Archangel’s Ascension: Chapter 39

Standing face-to-face with the most dangerous people in the world, Illium took the advice of the archangel who had never once let him down. “I think,” he said, “we must talk territory before we go any further.”

“Do you still wish to Sleep, Marduk?” Caliane asked in response. “There’s no need of it if you do not. We are now ten for the first time in centuries.”

“A full Cadre,” Suyin murmured, and Illium realized she’d never had that luxury, her reign having started with nine archangels—and of those nine, three had been injured enough to be out of commission for an extended period. Add in the poison Lijuan had left behind in China, and the start of her reign had been brutal.

“I would experience this, Marduk, but only if you wish it,” she said. “I know you didn’t want to be awake in the first place.”

Marduk’s smile was opaque, but he turned so that his more human side faced Suyin. “My consort has only been awake but a heartbeat. We spoke prior to this meeting, and she’s amenable to remaining a touch longer to further explore this new world.”

When the entire Cadre seemed to sigh, Illium gained a glimmer of understanding of what it was to rule with a partial Cadre. He’d come into the meeting assuming he’d take over Marduk’s territory—the Pacific Isles—in a simple transition, but now, they had to discuss territorial boundaries.

“The easiest path,” Caliane said, “would be to go back to the boundaries of the last full Cadre.”

Illium didn’t even think about it; he used subvocal commands and a hand gesture to throw up a map of the world from the last time the Cadre had been complete for a significant period.

The time of Uram, Archangel of Blood.

“You must teach me how to do that, my young stepson!” Titus boomed.

“Of course I will, honored aged stepfather,” Illium said with a grin that matched Titus’s. The two of them had been playing this game ever since Titus and Sharine became one, and they both found it equally hilarious.

Today, however, in this context…

Illium looked down for a moment as he fought not to snort with laughter.

But this petty, he could get behind. Because while he and Titus had nothing akin to a father-son relationship, they had a far deeper and genuine bond than the absolute nothing that Illium shared with his father.

Keeping his outward mien sedate, he nodded at the territorial markings on the map. “It looks like what was once Uram’s territory is now being governed piecemeal, with parts of other territories being truncated or artificially elongated to provide the cover.”

The land area involved—which included all of Russia—was too vast for such a reign, which meant all the archangels in the vicinity, including his father, had to have been pushing themselves to ensure the residents there knew they were under the oversight of one of the Cadre.

Sans that awareness, vampires who didn’t have iron control over their bloodlust would begin to slip, hunting mortals until the affected parts of the world turned scarlet in an inexorable tide. Because bloodlust was infectious once it began—as if seeing their fellows lose control flipped the switch in others who were susceptible either by dint of youth or a lack of discipline.

Charo had told Illium the story of a time when three continents drowned in blood. Since she was Charo of the Tales, and had a tendency to mix fact and fiction in her stories, he’d taken it with a grain of salt—until she’d sent him a copy of the relevant historical record from the Archives.

Yeah, bloodlust wasn’t a threat to take lightly.

Lady Caliane frowned as she examined the territorial map. But when she spoke, it wasn’t aloud. A private message for him appeared in the air in front of him. Startled that she knew how to use that aspect of the technology, he quickly read what she’d spoken at a subvocal level after using her personal codes to alert the system that this appear only to Illium.

Touched by the generous offer, Illium also knew he could never accept it. Each and every member of the Cadre would know why Caliane was making the move, and it would be seen as a declaration of weakness on Illium’s part.

, he replied as privately.

Caliane’s expression remained unchanged, but he got the sense of laughter in her eyes.

“I am in accord with Illium,” Marduk said aloud right then, having been examining the map with dragonish focus. “That landmass needs to be a single territory, not chopped up in pieces. That it’s held stable for this long is a testament to all of you who have added parts of it to your own lands.”

Elijah agreed with him, as did Suyin, Zanaya, and Alexander—the last of whom had borne the heaviest load when it came to ensuring stability in that region. Illium knew that Alexander had managed it only because he had the backup of both his consort, Zanaya, as well as his ally, Titus.

Aegaeon said nothing, which was the best that could be expected.

Raphael chimed in with his agreement last. Illium knew the sire had waited this long because he couldn’t be seen to be leading Illium.

“So we are agreed?” Caliane, who seemed to be in charge of running the meetings—a state of affairs with which Illium had no argument—looked around at each archangel in turn, received a nod.

Eyes ancient and wise landed on Illium. “The territory is yours, Archangel Illium. When will you take it?”

Grief was a lonely nocturne in Illium’s heart even as he spoke. “If Raphael permits my intrusion a touch longer, I will take three days in this city, to put together a small squadron of my own. Then I’ll fly to my lands.”

“I have no disagreement with the time needed,” Raphael said. “You are my welcome guest.”

“I’ll withdraw the instant you reach the border,” Alexander said with his usual adherence to protocol, then sent Illium a private message.

That all of the Ancients appeared to have learned how to utilize that bit of tech told Illium that meetings of the Cadre might be far more fun than he’d believed. It also made him wonder how many other little conversations were going on around him. No doubt they did this mind to mind during an in-person meeting.

Unspoken was that Illium would have to win those he wanted to his cause. It wasn’t unusual for a huge turnover in personnel when a new archangel came in, a change that arose from both ends. The new archangel wanting his own people in positions of power; the present team unwilling to serve under a new leadership.

Unlike a newly awake former member of the Cadre, however, Illium had no historical team who’d fly to him after resigning from their current posts, but that was an advantage, too. The last time anyone had had the chance to join a fledgling court had been with Suyin, roughly seven hundred years in the past.

, he responded to Alexander, because the Archangel of Persia had just alerted him that some of those powerful people would be loyal to Aegaeon.

A wry glance at the Queen of the Nile, who was even now smiling sweetly at Aegaeon.

, Raphael filled in for Illium on the mental level when he saw Illium take in the interaction.

It was yet another insight into how an underpowered Cadre drained archangels.

Even as he spoke, Suyin said, “I’m not so very far from you, Illium, and I have rebuilt my lands to the point that I can lend you squadrons should you wish. We shall call it a small repayment for the many months of your life you gave to me as a warrior when China was at its most damaged and dangerous.”

“Then I accept, Suyin,” Illium said, because she’d been careful to couch her offer as an exchange rooted in honor.

He also knew beyond any doubt that he could trust her and her people.

Unbeknownst to anyone else in this space but Raphael and perhaps Caliane, Illium and Aodhan had visited China with regularity over the years. Not only to see Suyin and witness the healing of the land Lijuan had brutalized, but to meet with Jinhai, the broken, twisted boy with clipped and scarred wings they’d discovered in the snow.

Suyin had grown into her power, had a steel core, but she’d remained honorable throughout in a determined repudiation of the monster her aunt had become. As for Jinhai…his wings had grown back strong and undamaged, but his mental journey would be longer, far longer.

“I would offer you the same,” Caliane said. “You have but to make the request. It’ll be good to have a solid territory in that region again.”

The conversation ended soon afterward, all the archangels blinking out of the meeting room one by one. Groaning, Illium shook off the tightness across his shoulders and down his spine. He wondered when it would end, this sense that he was playing at a game of power. Would there ever come a time when it would feel natural? When he wouldn’t have to consciously plan his words, or analyze those of others?

Upstairs, Montgomery had a veritable feast waiting for him. The butler had laid it out on the table in the library, where Illium had eaten a thousand casual meals, and Illium could’ve kissed him for it. It would’ve been a blow to the fucking heart had Montgomery decided on the main dining room. That was for guests, not family and friends. And for Illium alone.

Sitting down, he began to fuel himself—and wasn’t the least surprised when Raphael took a seat opposite him not long afterward. “Well done, Bluebell.”

Not pointing out the slip of his nickname—it made him feel normal, at home—Illium clanked his tankard of mead against Raphael’s. “You know what I realized?” he said after swallowing his current mouthful. “That I have more friends on the Cadre than not. Most through you, granted, but Suyin, Titus, and you are friends I hold on my own.”

“Yes.” Raphael leaned back in his chair. “The only real problem you have is Aegaeon, and possibly Alexander.”

“Alexander?”

“He’s calmed down since my time, but it’d be wise to be wary. He’s a very old angel, and while he appears settled since he and Zanaya became consorts, you’re a brash new archangel on his border.”

“He offered to give me intelligence about the people in my territory. Should I trust him on that?”

Raphael raised an eyebrow. “If he said that, then yes. Alexander doesn’t play those kinds of games—if he’s going to come at you, it’ll be out in the open. How did you win him over? I’m fairly certain he only tolerates me even now.”

Illium grinned. “Zanaya thinks I’m trouble—and of course, I am Avelina’s favorite grandchild.”

Raphael’s shoulders shook, his grin reaching his eyes just as there was a stir at the doors to Illium’s back. Striding in past him, Elena drew back a chair beside Raphael, sat, then glared daggers at Illium. “You !”

“I know. I know. Not my fault.” Pushing her favorite pastry in her direction in mute apology, he said, “But now you have an excuse to visit my side of the world.”

Dressed in black hunter leathers that hadn’t changed much over the centuries except for becoming closer to soft armor in the protection they provided, the near-white of her hair in a braid, Elena tore off a bite of the pastry. “I am not going to forgive you for this,” she said, and pastry abandoned, got up again before walking out through the external doors.

Raphael, his expression tender, watched her leave. “Go,” he said to Illium. “You can still be her Bluebell for one more day.”

After that…

Throat choked up, Illium shoved back his chair and went after Elena. She wasn’t on the lawn, but he knew where to find her. Her greenhouse had been renovated and repaired countless times over the years but it remained true to the vision she’d always had of it—there was a sense of age about the structure, the iron of it weathered and curved, the curlicues that Aodhan had designed a few hundred years ago the gentlest touch against the glass, which let in all the glorious light that made her plants thrive.

She’d tested out trailing grapevines on the outside but that had blocked too much of the light, so her outdoor growing area was behind the greenhouse, and she took great care to keep the glass free of lichens and other growth. The passage of time meant that the glass was no longer as shiny as it had once been, but the patina just made it lovelier.

Opening the door after taking a deep breath, he walked into a humid warmth rich with the earthy kiss of life as familiar to him as the scent of paint and clay that was Aodhan’s studio. The banana palm in one corner groaned heavily with plump yellow fruit, while just-ripe mangoes, their skin red blushing into green, hung on another tree in the opposing corner.

Elena crouched on the floor by the mango tree, working on the underplanting. Her wings lay on the grass floor of the greenhouse in a show of midnight and dawn that rippled with bursts of wildfire, her braid reaching her lower back.

Aware that she knew he was there, he sat down next to her, his wing overlapping hers. And he began to weed and remove dry or old leaves as she’d taught him over the years.

The two of them worked on that bed for a quarter of an hour before she looked at him and said, “I will you.” Her voice trembled, her gaze ashine.

He closed his hand over hers, their fingers entwining. “If you don’t visit me at least ten times in the first year, I won’t talk to you for a century.”

Making a wordless sound, she leaned her head against his shoulder, her hair a glow in his vision that reminded him of Aodhan. When she spoke, however, it wasn’t with anger but with the worried love of a friend who’d been with him through multiple seasons of life. “How are you feeling about it?”

Sitting up, she looked at him with eyes of silver-gray that no mortal would ever possess. The Cascade’s mark on Elena had taken time to emerge and settle, but it was there in those eyes that were just a too silver to be gray, and in the wings that crackled erratically with fine threads of wildfire.

But when it came to Elena, the external didn’t matter, had never mattered. It was her heart that made her—and that heart was proudly, defiantly mortal. She’d stayed true to herself through the very alteration of her being. So would he. He contort himself to fit some ordained vision of what it meant to be Cadre, would not lose himself.

“I…” He took a breath, released it. “Much as I didn’t want ascension, I know it was time. It’s right—I feel it. This is who I was meant to become.”

Elena ran her fingers through his hair. “Just…stay a little bit Bluebell, won’t you?” A whisper.

“Not a little bit, Ellie.” Grinning, he rose to his feet and offered her his hand. “I plan to be Bluebell. The Cadre will learn to deal.”

Lips curving, Elena allowed him to haul her up. “I expect great things,” she said in a voice portentous. “So, Pacific Isles?”

“Oh no. I’m taking over the territory next to the asshole.”

Elena’s eyes widened before she gripped the front of his combat tunic and hauled him close. “Don’t you dare start a war with him. I mean it, Illium.” A glare. “He’s an , and you’re still wet behind the ears. I swear I will come over there with my knives and pin you to your damn throne if I get even a that you’re trying to start a war.”

“A throne?” Illium made a humming sound. “I hadn’t thought about that.” He rubbed his jaw. “Maybe Aodhan will design me one that’ll go down in history as the throne of thrones.”

Elena groaned.