Archangel’s Ascension (The Guild Hunter Series)

Yesterday

Twenty-five years after the end of the war, and Illium and Aodhan were at a celebration thrown by Lady Caliane.

India had been devastated both by the reborn children Lijuan had created during the war—and the price the terrible heartbreaking scourge demanded of the people who’d had to deal with it. It had crushed the spirit of this vast and ancient civilization.

Then had come Neha’s decision to go into Sleep a mere decade later, leaving her yet-mourning territory without an archangel.

It could’ve broken this land.

But Lady Caliane, with her wisdom gained from mistakes so dark that she was forever altered, had stepped in and cherished India as if it was her beloved city of Amanat. So much so that she hadn’t left its soil since taking over as Archangel of India but for short visits to check in on Amanat, and visit her son. It had still taken this long for the territory to get to its feet, even begin to heal. Their unwilling involvement in Lijuan’s ugly murder of thousands of children was not an easy burden to bear.

The process would take many more decades yet.

These week-long celebrations, to be held across the entire country, were a gift from an archangel to her tired people—telling them that they could claim happiness, that joy was not a gift forever stolen from them.

Illium hadn’t been there when Caliane spoke to Raphael, but the sire had mentioned it to him. “She wants her people to remember that life is more than pain and rebuilding and grief. For one week, India will effervesce in all its glory, and it is her hope that the memory will take them through the next year, when the celebration will reoccur. She intends for this to be a high point everyone looks forward to each year.”

Illium and Aodhan had arrived three days into the celebrations, after Dmitri and Venom left to return to New York. Galen and Jessamy had also just left, with Naasir and Andromeda arriving in their stead. A flow that meant Raphael’s territory as well as his Refuge stronghold would never be without one of its senior people.

The same applied to Illium’s mother and Titus. As Caliane’s best friend, Sharine had been in India for a week prior to the celebrations, with Titus flying in right before it kicked off. They’d both stayed for two additional days before returning to Africa, with Zanaya and Alexander taking their place in India. The three archangels worked well together as allies, each keeping an eye on the territories of the other.

The sole exceptions to the constant balancing of senior people in and out were Elena and Raphael, who Caliane had requested stay for the duration—and Jason. The spymaster had asked Raphael if he could remain in India throughout. Illium could guess that the spymaster wanted to be by Mahiya’s side as she returned to her homeland—a place where her life had been a thing of quiet torment.

Mahiya herself had said so to Illium once, when he’d dropped by for dinner while near their home. He hadn’t given her advance notice, but she’d welcomed him with a delighted hug nonetheless, then plied him with foods literally fresh from the pan, while Jason made droll remarks about Mahiya reinforcing the foraging instincts of certain uninvited guests.

The spymaster had become far less remote in the decades since he’d fallen in love. His ability to become a shadow remained unparalleled, but the Jason of before would’ve never made such a dry joke while filching a fresh samosa from his lover—because it had been a joke, his own embrace of welcome as fierce as Mahiya’s.

For the Seven were as much a brotherhood as they were warriors under the same liege.

“My aunt,” Mahiya had said when the conversation drifted to India and Archangel Neha, “wasn’t the best of foster mothers is about all I can say politely.” Her peacock’s wings still, her face holding a distant look as she rolled out a fresh roti. “But I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss the colors and scents and wonders of the place that was my home for most of my lifetime.”

Today, Mahiya danced in the street below with a number of other women, mortal and vampire, all in jewel-hued skirts and tops embedded with tiny mirrors that reflected the light of the setting sun. The dancers had tied their long scarves—the colors matched to their skirts or tops—cross-body to keep them out of the way, their bangles making fine music as they raised their hands.

Four of Mahiya’s bangles—one on each end of the stacks of color that covered her wrists—had bells on the end; she was so delighted by them that she’d come over to show Illium before she left the palace. “Look what Jason got made for me!” She’d moved her hand, her skin decorated with an intricate tracery of henna, to release a delicate cascade of music. “Aren’t they so beautiful?”

Jason himself was difficult to see below, hidden as he was against the shadow thrown by an ancient building of pink stone pitted by time, but when Illium did finally spot him, he also spotted the smile on his face.

He glimpsed a far different expression on the face of the angel with wings of peacock blue and green who stood on a facing rooftop. Over three thousand years of age, Nivriti had within her the ability to hurt an archangel—but only one specific archangel. Neha, her twin. Now gone into a Sleep from which she might not return for eons, if ever.

He’d never seen Nivriti in anything but warrior leathers, but she’d softened enough for the celebration to have donned slim silk leggings of a pale purple paired with a thigh-length tunic in a more vivid shade of the same hue. Silver embroidery ran thick on the hems and along the neckline, that silver echoed in her bangles and in the thread woven through her single braid.

That Princess Mahiya Geet had inherited her wings from her mother was not a question.

Today, Nivriti watched her daughter with pride and love tempered by an old anguish…and also frustration. As used to getting her way as Neha, Nivriti was clearly still struggling with the unalterable truth that any relationship she had with Mahiya would always be on Mahiya’s terms.

Asshole parents, Illium thought, never quite got it.

Mahiya might disagree with that description of Nivriti, given that Neha had imprisoned her twin and stolen Mahiya. Illium accepted that Nivriti hadn’t abandoned Mahiya out of choice, and that her love for her daughter was true. On the flip side, all three people concerned in the love triangle that had led to Mahiya’s horrific time at Neha’s court had been selfish assholes.

Mahiya didn’t much talk about it, but Illium had heard enough through the grapevine to draw his own conclusions.

Aodhan, crouched on the rooftop beside Illium, said, “I have no idea how Mahiya’s managing to do that dance without tangling up her wings.”

“It’s like combat.” Fascinated by the same, Illium had watched the movements with intense focus. “I could do it. So could you.”

His features kissed by the red-orange glow of the sun, Aodhan shot him a dubious look. “Go on. I dare you.” A grin as roguish as Illium’s—and one that had once again become a normal part of their life after being absent so long.

“Oh, you think I won’t.” Illium’s blood heated. “Dare taken. What do I get if I succeed?”

Aodhan rubbed his jaw. “I’ll let you teach me the dance. And I’ll do it in public before we leave.”

“Done.”noveldrama

With that, Illium flared out his wings and flew down to join the dancers. Waiting until one of the women broke away to sit for a while, he flowed into the rhythm. Laughter feminine and delighted rose up around him as he began to move his hands and his body with the near-liquid fluidity of the others.

It was, quite frankly, a lot harder than it looked, but he’d never been one to give up.

“Wings like a babe!” Mahiya called out from across the circle, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright under the dusting of gold on her eyelids. “Triple fold!”

A triple fold was extremely difficult for an adult angel to pull off. Illium managed it, but had to keep concentrating to hold the position for any longer than a split second. But he saw what Mahiya meant at once. He was able to move much faster with his wings in that awkward position.

Mahiya cheered him on, the tendrils of hair that had escaped the knot at her nape curling around her lovely face with its eyes of tawny brown, the bindi she wore in the center of her forehead a teardrop that matched the vibrant pink of her skirt. Illium, too, had gone for color, choosing a tunic of rich rust-orange that contrasted sharply with his wings.

He didn’t come close to standing out, the festival was such a riot of hues.

Aodhan had gone for simple cream with gold embroidery for his tunic, paired with black pants like Illium’s, but for the first time in his life, he didn’t have to worry about standing out, either. The tiny mirrors so prevalent in the festival clothing turned everyone into a sparkling gemstone.

Illium looked up, and there was his Adi, watching him with a huge smile wreathing his face. That was enough of a win for Illium. He’d never force the other man to mingle so closely with so many people.

To his shock, however, Aodhan flared out his wings and glided down to the street.

As Illium watched, stumbling in the dance as he did so, Aodhan shoved up the sleeves of his tunic to reveal muscled forearms, and said, “Go slow, ladies—and Illium. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

The street around them had begun to buzz the instant he appeared on the ground, for while he might not stand out as much as he usually did, Aodhan was also not known for hanging about at street level.

The buzz grew into enthusiastic cheering as the women welcomed him in with giggles and encouraging waves of the hand. Having ended up on the side across from his lover, Illium grinned as he watched Mahiya show Aodhan how to move so that he’d be part of the flow of the circle.

The rich pink of her skirts hit Aodhan’s legs as she swirled, brilliant against the sparkle of him, and Aodhan just barely managed to stop from smacking the woman on the other side of him with his wing. His apology made the round-cheeked mortal clap her hands in delight, then begin to show him how to move—in slow motion.

Aodhan only grazed her with his wing this time, causing a small boy in their street audience to fall over in laughter.

Aodhan’s own shoulders shook.

There was more laughter, more instruction, until at last, they began to flow in a river of color and sound.

Jason, Illium said, reaching out with his mind, don’t suppose I can dare you to join us?

First of all, I am recording this for posterity because no one will believe it otherwise. Secondly, spymasters have a reputation to uphold. The universe will crack in two should I join in.

But then Jason did the unexpected. He vanished from sight in that Jason way of his…only for his voice to fill the air in a song as joyful as this celebration. It stopped Illium’s heart, the beauty and pristine clarity of Jason’s voice a thing that penetrated so deep that several of the people around them sobbed at the sheer beauty of it.

Mahiya’s smile was luminous. “Let’s give my beloved’s song the dance it deserves!”

And so they danced amid the notes of a song of love and hope and heart for Princess Mahiya Geet…and the place she had once called home. A gift from Jason to his princess, but one that embraced each and every being who heard it. Including two warrior angels who heard in Jason’s song their own love story.

They were sitting, tired but happy, on the edge of the flat roof of a fort that overlooked the town bedecked in lights, the music distant, and the stars bright overhead when Illium turned to Aodhan and said, “I got you a gift.” His heart pounded, his mouth dry.

Even after a quarter of a century together, he was nervous.

Because this, they’d never done.

Sleeves still folded up and a goblet of mead in hand, a lazy-limbed Aodhan ran his wing over Illium’s. “You’re my favorite gift, Blue.” He’d opened up his tunic partway down his chest, revealing the flare of his collarbone, the flat of his breastbone, the curve of his pectoral.

A fine metal chain lay against his skin.

Any other night and Illium would’ve taken great pleasure in exploring that hard body while he kissed lips that were soft only for him.

Tonight, however…

He held out his closed hand and couldn’t find any charm or pretty words. He blurted out, “No, it’s this.” Opening his fingers, he revealed a bracelet of polished amber beads. The amber was crystalline but with rivers of darker shades within that took its perfection to a unique level of beauty.

It glowed in the light that sparked off Aodhan.

Aodhan had frozen at the sight, now picked up the bracelet with trembling fingers after putting the goblet unseeing onto the roof beside him. “Illium.”

“Will you wear my amber?” Illium asked, his heart exposed.

Aodhan’s hand, so strong, so careful, clenched on the beads. “Only,” he rasped, “if you wear mine.”

“What?”

Sliding his hand under the neckline of his tunic, Aodhan tugged out the chain on which hung a ring. He pulled the chain off over his head, removed the ring, and held it out. “Will you wear my amber, Blue?”

Illium’s throat closed up, his entire being a single pulse, because as he’d spent literal years sourcing the perfect amber to resonate with Aodhan’s light, it was clear that Aodhan had spent as much time making this ring. It was carved of amber, with a ring of metal behind it to hold the more fragile stone in place.

The design was intricate, of feathers laid atop feathers surrounding and interwoven into the symbol of infinity. “How did you make this without me seeing it?” he managed to get out instead of just snatching at the ring.

“It’s good to be known as a temperamental artist who growls people away from his studio.”

Illium’s chest expanded in a burst of happiness that was close to pain as he held out his hand. The love of his life slipped the ring onto his finger at the same time that Illium slipped the bracelet over the strong bones of Aodhan’s wrist. The amber glowed exactly as he’d imagined, lit by the luminescence that was his Adi.

His own amber settled perfectly on his finger, a deep shade that was striking against his tawnier skin. He held it close to his eye, examining the carving, which must’ve taken boundless patience.

Aodhan, meanwhile, was holding his bracelet up to the light, a smile curving his lips.

Illium suddenly felt silly and young and happy. Grabbing Aodhan by the front of his tunic, he hauled his lover and best friend down for a kiss that was all beating hearts and smiling lips and a certainty that this had been meant to be.

They fell off the edge of the fort.

Laughing, they broke apart, then flew high, high, higher, until they were closer to the stars than the earth, and they tangled in a kiss while Aodhan held the hover. His hair, overlong because he’d been too busy to get it cut, brushed Illium’s cheek in a softness of light, while his hand was a rough counterpoint on that same cheek.

Illium loved how Aodhan kissed him, with such care every single time, even when they were caught in the turbulence of passion primal and unrestrained. Today, the kiss held a happiness and an exuberance that had them grinning at each other as they drew apart while yet entangled.

Illium ran his hand through the glittering beauty of Aodhan’s hair. “I like this.”

“You can enjoy it for another month before it drives me insane and I hack it off.”

Illium fisted a hand in all that beautiful silk. “I could make a fortune selling your shorn locks on the black market.”

“And I could pluck out your feathers one by one at night and make an equal killing.”

Illium’s grin only deepened. “Bet? I’ll give you ten feathers, you give me enough hair for ten small bundles, and we’ll see who comes out the financial winner?”

Aodhan looked at him with a glint in his eye. “No, I think I’ll just catch you and pluck those feathers.”

Illium bolted away before Aodhan’s hands could tighten, and the race was on across the grand forts and festival-lit streets of Jaipur. People whooped when Illium swept down so low that they could’ve reached up and touched his wings—except he was too fast, soaring up and away before anyone could realize what was happening.

Aodhan dipped down low before flying up and around, twisting in an attempt to catch Illium by cutting him off—except Illium was a master at rapid turns and quick changes in path. Aodhan, however, had been playing this game with him for a lifetime, had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Illium didn’t realize he was being funneled out over the rolling desert until he was already there—and on this landscape, Aodhan had the advantage. Because while Illium was faster, Aodhan had more endurance. So Illium went up and up and up.

Aodhan followed…but when Illium turned to drop down, Aodhan put himself directly in Illium’s path when it was far too late for Illium to turn away. They smashed into each other with brutal force, something that would’ve done severe damage to angels of less power. But they were two of the Seven.

They took the blow with grunts, their wings spread as they attempted to control the spiral down to the earth. “You’re a lunatic!” Illium shouted.

“That’s why you love me!”

Aodhan slammed into the sand with his back, having made sure Illium was on top when they hit the earth. The impact created a dust storm that blotted out the world for a long moment, and in that moment, Illium kissed Aodhan’s wicked mouth and the slope of his neck, his hands pinning the thickness of Aodhan’s wrists to the sand.

Sand, gritty and fine, against his teeth, on Aodhan’s skin, glimmers of silica against the faint brilliance of him, the only light out here from the stars. And in that radiance, Aodhan glowed like moonlight, lighting up his amber…and Illium’s, too.

An entanglement of hearts in perfect sync.