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)
That was when he saw it—a familiar black form in the distance, circling and swooping. My raven shows me the way. Zani, stay safe! I’ll be back soon!
She said nothing in reply, might even now be in battle. Teeth gritted as even more of his soul tore away, he flew so hard and fast that he wrenched something in his shoulder. The hurt was a welcome bite as he dove through the cloud of fog where his raven had circled . . . and heard the thunder of a waterfall.
He thought he knew where he was now, Titus’s lands as familiar to him as his own after his many visits to his friend. He lit up the sky with his power as he landed, and in the glow of gold, he spotted Xander. One of his grandson’s wings was torn and bloody, while the other had been sliced off at the back and not cauterized.
The blood loss must’ve been catastrophic, but Xander was somehow conscious—and he had a knife in his hand with which he was swiping at the reborn that scuttled around him, attempting to sink their teeth or claws into him. He was faster, more skilled, but he was tired, and Alexander saw a number of scratches and bites on him.
He didn’t roar out his rage.
He simply encased Xander in a bubble of his power, then killed everything else. He was certain he hit no targets but those he sought; the wild creatures who called this forest home would have long abandoned an area ripe with the stench of the unnatural dead.
Reborn erased out of existence, Alexander dropped his bubble of power to see his grandson shoot him a fierce grin. “I knew you’d come, Grandfather,” he said.
Then Xander collapsed, as if giving himself permission to let go now that Alexander was here. The knife that fell from his hand was one Alexander had given him, a blade that he wore in a hidden sheath in his boot.
Already running to him, he reached out to his love. Zani, he’s alive! Xander is alive! Broken and battered but alive.
Her voice in his mind, a breathlessness to it. Burn out every scratch and cut he has on him. I don’t know if Antonicus’s creatures carry the same poison as him, but we can’t risk it. Deeply excising the wounds may stop it from reaching Xander’s bloodstream.
The idea of harming his grandson was a knife to his heart, but Alexander didn’t hesitate. Zanaya would die to protect that which Alexander loved, as he’d do for her. Her counsel held only care. So he lay his wounded grandson flat on the ground, then began to use the brutal power of an archangel to excise literal chunks of flesh from Xander’s body.
His grandson flinched and moaned but remained unconscious.
A small mercy.
But the boy was silent and cold as death by the time Alexander was done. At least there’d been little to no further blood loss, as Alexander had cauterized the wounds as he went—though the scent of Xander’s flesh burning was a hard thing to bear.
Wrapping him up in his power, Alexander gathered him in his arms. He knew why Antonicus had taken Xander now. Son or grandson, he had to have realized the child was of Alexander’s bloodline—and Alexander was known for his loyalty.
He was also known for his love for Zanaya, she for her love for him.
Find a way to draw one . . . and the other would come, too.
Xander had been both bait . . . and a distraction for Alexander. Zani, the goal was to get to you!
I know! Take Xander to safety! Get him out of here now!
It was the only choice. Xander was badly wounded, needed a healer as fast as possible. Yet to leave his Zani? But he must. Because his consort was an archangel, too, honorable and good and with courage infinite.
Hold on, Zani, he thought as he took flight with Xander in his arms. Hold on.
58
Shoving back the strands of hair that had blown across her face during Alexander’s ascent, Zanaya breathed through her mouth in an effort to filter out the stench that came off Antonicus. He smelled . . . rotten. Not the rot of the earth, musty and rich. But the putrid rot of meat left out too long, until maggots began to wriggle in it, their plump bodies gleaming and wet.
Even as her gorge threatened to rise at the image, she tried to keep Antonicus talking. “Why did you take the stripling?”
“Because you are mine.” Bared teeth. “I knew he’d be with you. Zanaya and Alexander. Alexander and Zanaya.” He said that in a mocking singsong way, then spat at the earth. “I heard it throughout history, but it’s wrong!”
It was difficult to maintain this conversation while also speaking with Alexander, and she had to fight not to betray her relief when her consort told her that his raven showed him the way to Xander.