He’d found nothing, though if Alexander had gone beneath the earth like Caliane, that would be expected. Still, even the closest villagers had heard no whispers, guarded no legends. He knew they spoke the truth because they were too afraid to lie. While he would’ve ordinarily ignored such weak mortals, he couldn’t permit these ones to live. If Titus discovered the intrusion, he might decide to launch a retaliatory attack and Lady Lijuan needed more time to return to her strength.
“Is it possible the scholar lied?” one of his lieutenants asked after another futile day’s searching.
“No.” He thought of how Andromeda had sat with Heng, how she’d stayed even after Xi told her it was a foolish thing she did. “Her courage is of the heart and the mind, not that of a warrior. And she accepts this is the right path.” The world was in chaos and needed Lijuan’s millennia-deep wisdom to steady it.
Cassandra’s prophecy made it clear Alexander was a threat to that future peace.
Xi would permit no threat to his lady. “However, the scholar may simply have been wrong in her estimation of Alexander’s attachment to his land and to his son.” Unlike Xi, Andromeda had never had any direct contact with Alexander, so the error was understandable.
“Love may have made a fool of even an Ancient.” The extraordinary thing was that Xi understood Alexander’s instincts because he was driven by the same. Despite the strategic weakness of such, should he ever go into Sleep, he would do so near his lady.
His lieutenant stirred. “We go to Favashi’s territory?”
“Yes.” To the home of Alexander’s only and beloved son. “Leave two men here to carry on the search, on the chance the scholar was right. Ready the rest for flight.”
23
Andromeda flew straight and true toward Amanat, her sense of aerial direction good enough that three hundred and twenty-five years earlier, she’d got herself to the Refuge while not yet an adult. With each wingbeat, she had to fight not to turn back, return to Naasir, make sure he was safe.
She knew her thoughts were irrational. Naasir was one of the Seven for a reason—he was strong and lethal. She’d seen that when they fought the reborn. He’d taken down three for every one of hers.
He was so beautiful to watch in motion, pure grace and wildness.
Riding a powerful sea wind, she dropped low enough to feel the salt air. Below her, the water was a sprawling emptiness in every direction. Not a single vessel, no birds, nothing but the night and the ocean. There was a deep peace to it, to feeling the wind push back her hair as her wings rode it.
She wondered if this was how Naasir felt when he set himself free and ran full tilt. She’d ask him, she thought with a smile that faded all too soon. The only good thing about Lijuan’s insanity was that it had brought Naasir into her life, allowed her to spend her last days of freedom with a man so extraordinary she knew eternity with him would be a constant and wonderful surprise.
Her heart hurt.
Eternity with Naasir was beyond her reach, but she could help him stop a heinous crime. For Lijuan to attempt to murder Alexander while he Slept wouldn’t only shatter one of the deepest taboos of the angelic race, it would destroy hundreds of thousands of years of history. Alexander carried that history in his bones, in his mind, in his memories.
Lijuan’s plan could not be permitted to succeed.
Jaw clenched, she rode another strong wind . . . and thought again of the silver-haired vampire who wasn’t a vampire who was her partner in this critical quest, and of how he made her feel heartbreakingly young and wild. This time, she didn’t fight the fantasies that whispered at her, fantasies of an eternity where she could explore and play and tangle with him forever.
On this night as she flew alone over a midnight dark sea while the stars glittered overhead, it didn’t matter. On this night, she was free and wild with a bloodline that was her own, unconnected in any way to that of a court built on pain and brutality and sexual acts devoid of love or even affection.
But of course the night, secret and sweet, couldn’t last.
Dawn was a blush-pink kiss in the sky, the morning light cool as she flew over the thick, dark green forests of Kagoshima, Japan, heading in a straight line to a city that should not exist here. Fog whispered a sinuous lover around the treetops, the mountains covered in sleepy-appearing white clouds, but Andromeda herself wasn’t the least drowsy; her breath caught in anticipation of seeing the lost city risen anew, of walking its ancient streets, of speaking to the people Caliane had taken with her into her Sleep.
Andromeda had read every one of the reports filed by others, pored over the sketches made by artists who’d visited. There were no photographs, for something in Amanat caused cameras to malfunction, perhaps the simple low hum of an Ancient’s close proximity.
Regardless, nothing could’ve prepared her for her first sight of the legendary city.
It appeared out of the green like a mirage, a city of stone and flowers and curves protected by a shield of delicate blue-tinged light that warned against trespass. Mouth dry with thirst and with wonder, Andromeda brought herself to a passable landing directly outside the shield, her wings strained from the long flight after days of near-inactivity.
She only had to wait a matter of seconds before an auburn-haired angel stepped out from behind the shield to face her. “What is your purpose here?” His green eyes were as cool as his voice, his body clad in the combat leathers of a warrior.
She recognized him from the descriptions in the reports: Avi, one of Caliane’s most trusted people, and an angel who had quietly returned to her side as soon as Caliane awoke. “My name is Andromeda,” she said. “I’m a scholar recently escaped from Lijuan’s citadel, thanks to Jason and Naasir.” Lifting her hand to her neck, she pulled out the chain that held Naasir’s ring. “I come to see Isabel.”