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)
“Sometimes, the old ways are the best.” Alexander couldn’t argue with Euphenia’s methods when the result was this bright and vital space that carried no echo of Charisemnon’s foul mores.
“Well.” Titus looked around. “It does have a good air to it, I must admit. I was skeptical when Phenie said she could wipe out that pus boil’s stink, but I do believe she has succeeded. There’s a freshness to it now, as if it’s waiting for its new master.”
Titus grinned as they walked inside the main building. “Perhaps it’s because—along with her other measures—my sister sent an open invitation to mortal children in the local city. She gave her small visitors paints and sticks of color, and set them free within the fort. Their task was to color the walls with their art. For which activity they were rewarded with much cake and chocolates and the like.”
Intrigued, Alexander looked at the stunning wall hangings all around, the walls otherwise pristine. “Where are their creations? Surely Euphenia wouldn’t permit her ingenious method of banishing bad energy to be erased?” Alexander knew Titus’s eldest sister too well to believe that.
Grin even brighter, Titus lifted the lower part of one heavy wall hanging . . . to reveal an image of flowers drawn in a child’s careful hand. “Hidden all over the fort—Phenie says they are a gift of joy for the residents to discover.”
Alexander crouched down to trace his fingers over the painstakingly created petals. “Zanaya will love this.”
A pause before Titus said, “My friend, I hope you’ll excuse some plain speaking.” Dropping the edge he’d lifted, the big angel shifted on his feet, uncharacteristically hesitant.
“Speak, Titus.” Alexander rose from his crouched position, he and Titus of a height so that when their eyes met, it was contact direct and unflinching. “We’ve never been formal.” Not even when Titus had been a boy.
Alexander had lived long enough to know that some people simply resonated with one another. Age mattered naught beyond a certain point. A friend was a friend.
“I don’t know Zanaya beyond our fleeting meeting during the war. But I know of her—though but for the odd comment you let slip, you’ve always been close-lipped on the topic, some of the old ones in my court were around when you two were together.”
Alexander nodded, aware that a larger-than-usual number of older angels had woken over the last decade. Per Jessamy’s research, it was likely to be a lingering effect of the Cascade, ripples of disturbance spreading in time. “And what you heard worries you?”
“Frankly yes.” Titus folded his muscled arms over the shining gold of his breastplate—into which was embedded a hummingbird formed of amber. Titus wearing his devotion to Sharine, the Hummingbird, in a way that couldn’t be missed.
Alexander had stopped wearing amber a millennium or two into his relationship with Zanaya. It hadn’t been a conscious decision. His ring had shattered during a battle with another archangel, and when Zanaya replaced it, he’d taken to not wearing it where it might become damaged . . . until he hadn’t worn it at all.
I have loved you more than I have ever loved anyone or anything in my entire existence . . . But you still love power more.
The echo of Zanaya’s accusation stung. He hadn’t worried about wearing the amber because he loved her so damn much. The entire world knew that Alexander belonged to Zanaya, would never be truly available to any other. What need was there to announce it?
She’d asked about it once and never brought it up again after he explained his reasoning . . . but she’d also never stopped transferring his amber from one sword hilt to the next. And she only used those swords, carried that amber, when they were together. The original Firelight had long since fallen to battle and time, but whensoever she transferred his amber to a sword hilt, that sword became the new Firelight.
Eons of time, and she had the first piece of amber he’d given her—along with the memory of how he’d done it. In a sword designed for her by Alexander and crafted by a master, then held precious and safe by Alexander until he could give it to her . . . while they stood kissed by sunlight, he and his Zani so startled and overwhelmed by the gift of amber.
I never expected amber in my life.
The symbol mattered to her. How could he have been so blind? So certain he was right? How could he have forgotten the tenderness and vulnerability of that moment where both their hands had trembled? Or the wonder of the instant she’d given him his most extraordinary ring? He knew he was arrogant, but to have it go so far? Have it hurt his Zani? It would’ve been one thing if he was ignorant of her history and what wearing amber meant to her, but he wasn’t.