“An orange grove in this climate?” Andromeda said before she realized the shield around Amanat allowed Raphael’s mother to control the temperature within. “Does she ever lower the shield?”
“Not since a maiden was killed by one of Charisemnon’s diseases.” Isabel’s lips flattened into a thin line as Andromeda’s stomach dropped. “He thought to use Kahla as a carrier, but she died before infecting anyone. It broke Caliane’s heart.”
“I’m so sorry,” Andromeda said, nauseated at knowing the murder had been done by a member of her family . . . and terrified what Caliane would do to her for it.
“It wasn’t your doing.” Isabel squeezed her shoulder. “You are as innocent as Kahla.”
Flaring out her wings on those quiet words, Isabel took off.
Andromeda followed, knowing full well that Caliane might not be as forgiving.
Deep in the orange grove, the Ancient wasn’t dressed in one of the flowing gowns in which she was so often depicted in scrolls and illustrated manuscripts. Instead, she wore faded brown leathers similar to Avi’s, her midnight black hair pulled back in a braid much like Andromeda’s.
“Isabel,” Caliane said in greeting when the warrior-angel landed, her voice hauntingly pure. “Are my maidens improving?”
“Like snails, my Lady.”
Caliane’s smile was unexpected and startlingly beautiful, her lips soft pink against skin of pure cream. “You must be patient—they are hothouse flowers suddenly exposed to the wind and the rain.” Her smile faded. “Would that it wasn’t necessary to teach them thus, but the world is changing into a dark place where the innocent are no longer safe.”
Isabel bowed her head slightly in a gesture of respect. “I bring you Andromeda. She is Naasir’s friend, of whom I spoke to you earlier.”
“Ah.” The excruciatingly pure blue of Caliane’s eyes, eyes she’d bequeathed her son, locked with Andromeda’s. “Charisemnon’s grandchild.” Daggers of ice in that voice that could be a beautiful, horrifying weapon. “And yet you show the good taste of escaping from Lijuan to help save Alexander’s life.”
“My Lady.” Not sure what else to do or say, Andromeda bowed deeply—unlike Isabel, she wasn’t a trusted warrior but a much younger guest.
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t execute you this instant for the crime done in my city?”
Blood a roar in her ears, Andromeda dared meet Caliane’s eyes. “If blood alone is what defines us, no child born is born in freedom.”
Caliane’s wings glowed for an endless heartbeat before subsiding. “Well said, fledgling. And do not look so terrified—I am not in the habit of hurting children for the crimes of their elders.” The archangel glanced at Isabel while Andromeda tried to keep from shaking. “Go, Isabel. I know you must do your flight over the city.”
“Lady.” Isabel left with another small incline of her head.
“She watches over my city as diligently as if it is her own,” Caliane said conversationally as she motioned for Andromeda to join her in her walk amongst the rows of trees that made up the grove. “I’ve told my son I will tempt her into staying with me, but he is confident in the loyalty of his people.” A glance at Andromeda. “Your wild friend could not wait to return to Raphael’s side.”
Andromeda took a moment to think. Some older angels could take grave insult at a single wrong word, and she had no desire to end up eviscerated. “Your city is astonishing,” she said, doing nothing to hide her wonder. “For me, it’s like being shown a treasure box.” She could spend weeks just walking the streets of Amanat, listening to the lilt of its people’s voices. “But Naasir is meant for wilder places and less civilized adventures.”
“Like my son.” Caliane’s love for that son was a piercing arrow to the heart. “Raphael collects the wild of heart to him.”
“He is the archangel who is least stuck in time,” Andromeda ventured to say. “Even Michaela, who so often plays to the cameras, keeps a court that works much the same today as it did a hundred years past.”
The pure white of Caliane’s wings seemed to glow even in the muted light; Andromeda was grateful that they no longer glowed in truth, because when an archangel glowed, people generally died.
“He is my son,” Caliane said quietly. “And he is Nadiel’s son. Together, we created a child who will one day fly higher than both of us.”
Having the sense that Caliane was speaking more to herself than to Andromeda, Andromeda kept her silence.
“Now he makes me even prouder by seeking to protect Alexander.” A cold tension in Caliane’s regal features. “I Slept during that time, but Jelena tells me that Alexander once thought to raise an army against Raphael.”
Andromeda took her life into her hands. “Yet he didn’t in the end,” she said. “I think he was tired and he saw Raphael as a young interloper. War was the easy answer to his need to find a reason to go on living in the world. In the end, he showed his wisdom and left the world to the young.”
Caliane pinned Andromeda with eyes aflame with power.
Her throat dried up, her pulse a rabbit in her chest.
25
“As I did in my time,” Caliane said at last, turning her attention back to the glossy green trees as they continued to walk. “Alexander was my compatriot, but we were never friends. He was a terror as a child, always breaking his bones and skinning his knee, while I was a girl who preferred to keep my dresses clean and to have civilized tea parties free of dirty boys.”
Andromeda felt wonder unfurl in her. Caliane’s memories came from a time so long ago that there was no one else awake in the world who knew them. “Is it lonely?” she asked impulsively. “To be the only Ancient in the world as Alexander once was? The only one with memories of times long gone?” Lijuan might believe herself an Ancient, but even if she was older than anyone knew, her age came nowhere close to Caliane’s.
Caliane didn’t strike her down for the impertinent question. Rather, the Ancient smiled. “I see why you are Naasir’s friend, scholar. You are as recklessly courageous as my son’s leashed tiger.”
Naasir isn’t leashed, Andromeda thought. He simply chose to give his loyalty to Raphael—and she had a feeling Raphael understood that. Their relationship wouldn’t otherwise be so strong.
“Yes,” Caliane said after a minute’s quiet. “It would be a pleasure to have a compatriot to speak with of times no one else remembers—perhaps I will invite Alexander to Amanat when he wakes. He grew up into a great general, and despite his foolishness in threatening my son, seems to have learned a modicum of civilized manners along the way.”