Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 118699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Far better for Alexander to find another way to deal with the threat.
But Phiron struck far faster than any of them could’ve expected. Four days later, Alexander came home to find his father bloody and beaten on the floor of their home, his face not much more than pulp. Cendrion’s wing bones had been crushed, the bloody imprint of a boot yet on them, and he’d lost an eye, but he was crawling to the door.
A long streak of blood on the polished wood of the floor Alexander had swept that very morning bore silent witness to his horrible journey.
“Papa!” Alexander crashed to his knees beside his father. “Papa! I’ll get the healer!”
Cendrion grabbed at him with hands that were mangled, his draftsman’s fingers shattered and twisted and his wrist missing the bracelet of metal and amber that was a constant on his body. “No,” he gasped out past the blood. “Gzrel . . . Phiron . . . has . . . Gzrel.”
The panic in Alexander turned ice-cold. But he didn’t freeze. No, he used the ice to think, to strategize, to bridge the gap between the boy he was today and the man he intended to become. “I understand, Papa,” he said with chilly calm. “I know what to do.”
Fear burned in his father’s single remaining eye as he tried to speak again. “Rum—”
“I know,” Alexander interrupted, for his father needed to conserve his strength. “I won’t go to Archangel Rumaia.” Phiron might’ve crossed a line that should be unforgiveable, but he was Rumaia’s fourth and as Alexander had learned when they were forced to give up their home to another of her favorites, she was indulgent with her inner court; she was as likely to tell Gzrel it was an honor to be so wanted than to punish Phiron.
Moving quickly now that he had a plan, he found a blanket and put it over his father’s broken body with tender care. Broken but not fatally. An angel could survive even this nasty a beating. And he knew the choice his father would want him to make. So instead of going to the healer, he flew hard and fast to General Akhia-Solay, second to Archangel Esphares.
Esphares and Rumaia were mortal enemies. And General Akhia-Solay was Ephares’s most trusted confidant—the general was also one of the seconds that Alexander most admired. From all Alexander had observed and heard, Akhia-Solay was smart, was a large part of the reason why Esphares held so much territory.
But more than that, Akhia-Solay had honor. Even young as he was, Alexander understood honor, understood what it was to be a good person. He’d been raised by people who were honorable to the core—so honorable that they didn’t understand the depth of malevolence that existed in others. He’d seen how his mother had questioned herself about Phiron despite having experienced his malice first hand.
As he understood that, he understood that Archangel Rumaia’s honor was tainted and without value; that realization had been coming to him in fits and starts, but after today, he no longer had any doubts. Phiron wouldn’t have dared his actions had he believed he might suffer any real punishment.
Archangel Rumaia cared only for herself and those close to her; she didn’t protect those outside her inner circle. And to Alexander, to protect those who were weaker lay at the heart of what it meant to have honor. General Akhia-Solay, in contrast to Rumaia, had been known to personally fly children and other enemy non-combatants out of the field of battle.
Archangel Esphares also had the most disciplined army in the Cadre of Ten because of Akhia-Solay. The general didn’t permit raping and pillaging in war, much less in peacetime. And he kept on winning, his troops confident in the knowledge that their archangel—informed by their general—would reward them for their fidelity and hard work.
Driven by desperation, Alexander didn’t bother to look for sentries as he crossed three Refuge borders to get to the section that belonged to Esphares. He knew he must’ve been spotted, but he was a child.
Most sentries had orders to allow children to fly as they wished.
He’d planned to go to the stronghold of Archangel Esphares and ask for the general, but fate had mercy on him and he spotted the general standing directly outside the stronghold, in conversation with a robed courtier.
Heart pounding and breath painful, Alexander dropped to land bruisingly hard mere handsbreadths from the two. His knees vibrated from the impact, his teeth clenching shut. Instead of reacting with anger, the adults looked at him with startled amusement. Again, because Alexander was a child yet, no threat to anyone.
“Sir.” Alexander went down on one knee in front of the general. Not two. Because Akhia-Solay also appreciated strength. Alexander would not beg. He’d treat this as if he were a full-grown warrior rather than a stripling, approach the general in that avatar. “I would speak with you. It is most urgent.”