Their next task was to go to a special private area of the infirmary with the rest of the Cadre, and consider the catastrophic damage to so many archangels.
Zanaya appeared dead, her body mummified and her eyes shriveled in their sockets. Astaad was in a better condition, with more flesh on his bones, but still unresponsive.
Caliane was down but would recover, as would Neha.
Elijah was worse off. Though Raphael’s wildfire had stopped the spread of the infection on the battlefield, it hadn’t dispelled it. So Eli had made much the same choice as Michaela, though in his case, he’d amputated an arm and shoulder, as well as part of his heart.
He was in anshara, the deep healing sleep where his body could make repairs. So was Caliane. Anshara couldn’t always be held back. Michaela, too, was in a state conducive to healing, but in her case, it was deeper than anshara; she appeared as the dead, but her body didn’t decay.
Raphael had his mother moved to a Tower suite where she’d be protected as she healed. Hannah asked to take Elijah back with her.
“We have a safe place for such times,” she said, her face stark with worry and tight with determination at the same time. “And I think no archangel will be making war anytime soon.”
No, they were all too battered, their lands in chaos. Lijuan’s dead-eyed angels might’ve fallen from the sky, but her reborn seemed to have become a permanent species on the planet. It would take a coordinated effort to wipe them out—and to eradicate the disease-bearing insects Charisemnon had created. The two ships full of reborn still in the ocean were an easier matter—Raphael would eliminate them after this meeting ended.
Eli’s troops left with his wounded body two hours after Lijuan’s army departed the city.
“It comes down to us,” Raphael said to Titus, Alexander, Favashi, Aegaeon, Cassandra, and Qin.
His consort had called Qin the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, and Raphael had to agree with the assessment. The Ancient was tall and slender, with silky black hair that ran to his shoulders in an onyx rain, his sharply slanted eyes the same shade but striated with a hue that echoed his sea aurora.
His wings were white where they grew out of his back but by the time his feathers reached his primaries, they were a delicate deep pink. Before that came myriad watercolor shades, Qin’s wings a “soft focus photograph” according to Elena. By contrast, his cheekbones were razors, creating hollows in his cheeks, but he was not a hard archangel. His face held a sorrowful softness, especially the eyes that were always on Cassandra.
“Eli will recover, as will Caliane and Neha,” Raphael said. “If you will stay, Lady Cassandra, we will have a full Cadre of Ten until we know whether Astaad or Michaela will survive and rise again.” Michaela should’ve been facing the same recovery time as Elijah, but whether it was because she’d given birth so recently or because of where Lijuan had injured her, she’d shown no signs of even minor healing as yet, while Elijah’s body had begun to knit itself back together.
As for Astaad and Zanaya, no one had any idea of the recovery process—or if recovery was even possible—for those archangels from whom Lijuan had fed; that no ordinary angel had survived was a bad sign, but archangels were archangels because they had magnitudes more power. The worst possibility was that Astaad and Zanaya’s power meant they wouldn’t die . . . but wouldn’t wake either, caught forever in a horrific limbo.
By that same token, was it possible Antonicus wasn’t dead and would lie in his half-decayed state for eternity?
Shaking off that ugly prospect because it did no good to dance in the unknown, he caught Cassandra’s gaze. “Will you stay?”
73
Cassandra, whose eyes were a haunting seafoam green melded with indigo and blue when she wasn’t clawing them out, smiled sadly at him. “The knot of chaos has untangled. I see clear paths again.” A tear rolled down her face. “I will be a mad archangel should I stay.”
Moving forward, she touched her hands to Elena’s cheeks. “Such glory you are, prophecy of mine. I will wake again when you next change the world.”
A kiss pressed to Elena’s cheek before Cassandra came to Raphael. “Child of flames, how strong you have become. And yet . . .” She pressed a hand to his heart. “Your heart is a little mortal.” She smiled, as if that pleased her, but the smile held a terrible sadness. “It is time for me to Sleep. Do not disturb me, children, for at least a thousand years. Perhaps then, I will be ready.”
She turned to walk to Qin, wiped the tears that ran down his cheeks. “My Qin.”
Raphael and the others all looked away as she laid her head down on the silent archangel’s chest and he put his arms around her. Beside Raphael, his hunter’s eyes shone wet.
Cassandra’s skirts stirred the air and when they looked up, she was no longer in Qin’s arms. “I will take with me the broken ones,” she said. “They cannot find a safe place to Sleep. I will find it for them.”
“Will they wake?” Alexander asked, grooves marking the sides of his mouth. “Zanaya, Michaela, and Astaad?”
Cassandra’s lilac hair blew back in the breeze coming through the balcony doors. “This, I do not know,” she said. “Some futures are not yet written.”
Raphael met her haunted eyes, wondered if they would be bloody holes when he next saw her. “I will ask my people to prepare to escort Michaela, Zanaya, and Astaad.” He sent the instruction even as he spoke.
Not long afterward, they watched Cassandra walk to the edge of the balcony. Her white owls took off in a symphony of silence. A single look back, the brush of an old, old mind, then Cassandra followed. Behind her came Jason, with Astaad in his arms, Aodhan, with Michaela, and Andreas, with Zanaya. An honor guard flew behind them.
Alexander ran to the balcony edge without warning, wings of silver spread for flight. He took Zanaya from Andreas before they’d reached the city limits. The squadron commander dropped out to return to his other duties.
I need to take her to her resting place, Alexander said to Raphael, but do not consider me gone from the table.
I will ensure your voice is heard.
“Nine then,” Raphael said afterward. “Three of whom are incapacitated.” With Eli, it might be for months, while Caliane would rise again within days or weeks, depending on how much damage she’d taken. Neha would be up even sooner.
“I do not know who I am.” Favashi held up her hands and on her skin played the slow, sinuous glow of lava. “I do not know what I have become.”
“You’re an archangel,” Aegaeon said flatly. “You do not get to rest while the world burns.”
Raphael didn’t agree with how the message had been delivered, but Aegaeon was right. The Cadre needed Favashi to step up.