Naasir would never even think of using her pain to cause emotional wounds.
Taking her face in his hands, he rubbed his nose over hers. “You’re very brave,” he said, silver eyes glowing in the darkness and fierce pride in his tone.
“So are you.” Her fingers trembled as she closed her hands around his wrists. “Alexander better not blast us after all this.”
A feral grin as he got to his feet and held out a hand to pull her up. Once she steadied, the ice and fire of the damage to her wings—as interpreted by her exposed nerve endings—no longer threatening to make her crumple, she looked around. They were at the bottom of a smooth stone bowl that appeared to have no exits, the sides so obviously sheer even Naasir’s claws would provide no purchase.
“I could fly up,” she said, because while her wings were badly damaged, they’d still hold her aloft. “Try to see if there’s an exit up top.”
Naasir shook his head, that vivid metallic hair shifting like liquid mercury even through the green-tinged vision of the goggles. “The sound isn’t right here.” Crouching down, he placed one hand on the sand, the other on his thigh, and cocked his head.
Andromeda stayed motionless, but used her eyes to scan everything in her field of vision. When Naasir changed position, she took the chance to turn so she could see the walls behind her.
Her eyes widened. “Naasir.”
“There is a way out of here,” he muttered, head still cocked. “I can hear it.”
Breaking position and the airflow, she ran over to the wall directly in front of her. “Do you see?”
Naasir came to join her. Leaning close, he ran his fingers over the thin lines dug into the stone. “It’s a fragment of a larger design.”
“Yes.” She backed off to the far wall. Parts of the design had been worn away, but she could still put it together. “A raven.” Created of myriad intricate images that represented this land. “Alexander’s chamber must be—”
The ground shook like a dog unwilling to release its prey.
Naasir hauled her into his arms as stone crumbled down around them . . . and then the ground was just gone and they were falling at a screaming pace.
“Snap out your wings!” Naasir yelled, his arms easing as if he’d release her.
She held on to him with a death grip. “I can’t! Something is sucking us down.” The pressure was intense, threatening to crush the small bones in her wings. Those bones were incredibly strong, designed as they were by nature to hold her aloft, but right now, she felt as if they were seconds away from buckling. “Don’t let go!”
“I won’t.” Silver hair blowing back from his face, he tried to turn his head to scan the area, but the wind pressure was too strong to permit the movement.
Andromeda suddenly felt the air growing warmer around them. Understanding drying her throat, she managed to bend her head enough that she could look down. The movement was possible only because Naasir had kind of bent over her in an effort to protect.
At first, she didn’t see anything and it was only then that she realized the goggles had been ripped off her face by the wind. But she’d been able to see Naasir . . . and it wasn’t because of the luminescence from the walls.
A molten red glow came slowly into view, growing hotter with every split second of their descent. “The lava pit,” she said, Naasir’s ear close enough that she knew he’d hear.
“I see it.” His breath on her skin, the sensation intense even with the wind. “Try your wings again, Andi.”
She tried, so hard it felt as if she’d ruptured blood vessels in her eyes, but it was useless. When she shook her head, Naasir growled. “My mate is trying to save your fucking life, Archangel!”
The heat began to burn, though the cauldron was boiling far below. That was when Andromeda understood death would come long before they ever got close to the surface of the lava—or tempest of molten metal, whatever it was. The heat would liquefy their internal organs and melt the flesh from their bones before those bones cracked and turned to dust.
The disintegration would end them both, for total and absolute immortality was the province of myth. Given her resurrection, it was possible that Lijuan had reached that level of evolution. Andromeda was too young to survive even half of what was about to happen, while Naasir . . . She didn’t know his limits, but she knew she couldn’t watch him die.
“Alexander!” she cried in desperation. “You’re meant to be a wise man!”
The bottoms of her boots melted, the feathers at the ends of her wings beginning to singe and burn, the air so hot and dry it threatened to sear the lungs.
“No, he’s a stupid one!” Naasir snarled . . . and they jerked to a halt in midair.
38
Eyes wide, Andromeda stretched out her wings. They moved, but she knew without attempting it that should she try to fly out, she’d be sucked back down. Not that she would, not when she didn’t have the strength to lift Naasir with her. Keeping her arms around the taut muscle of him, she looked around as he did the same.
There was nothing else in this tunnel of stone except Andromeda and Naasir and the bubbling, ravenous lava below. Heart a staccato beat and every breath an effort, she said, “I think you got his attention.”
Naasir bared his teeth. “You’re more civilized—you talk.”
Molten geysers shot out of the lava, as if Alexander was getting impatient. “Archangel,” she said, directing her words to the lava, though she knew Alexander could hear her regardless of where she pitched her voice. “The world is in the midst of a Cascade and the archangels of the current Cadre are spiking violently in power.”
The lava bubbled and erupted with countless geysers as they fell another two feet.
The heat scorched her soles through her ruined boots.
Naasir’s growl was more feral than she’d ever heard it, the sound echoing off the stone to reverberate in her bones. “Lijuan wants to kill you in your Sleep, you stubborn old bastard! She believes she’s a goddess!”
Andromeda winced. Alexander had been wise, but he’d also had a stormy temper.
The stone rumbled but they didn’t drop again.
“He’s laughing,” Andromeda whispered incredulously. It pushed her over the edge. “Listen, damn you! Lijuan isn’t who you remember! She’s insane and she can kill you—while you’ve been Asleep, she’s become the Archangel of Death.”
She felt the heat of Naasir’s skin as his temperature rose, smelled burning flesh. Not hers alone. No. No. “Even if you survive, your loyal sentinels won’t!” As Naasir was Andromeda’s, the Wing Brotherhood was Alexander’s—worth dying for, worth fighting for. “Your men and women have held to their vows for four hundred years and they will die one by one in agony and suffering rather than leave you!”