by Nalini Singh
“Scholar.”
Pulled from the disturbing tenor of her thoughts, she saw they’d stopped in front of an archway.
“Isabel is within,” Avi said. “I’ll leave you to speak with her.”
“Thank you.” Walking through the archway, Andromeda found herself in a tree-shaded but still light-filled courtyard surrounded by dual-level homes and empty but for an angel going through a martial arts kata. The angel was tall and muscular in a toned, fluid way, her black hair pulled back into a neat braid and her wings white with a splash of delicate green at the primaries.
Instead of warrior leathers, she wore black jeans with boots of the same shade, her white top loose and long-sleeved, cuffed at the wrists. None of that altered the fact that she was a trained and dangerous fighter who moved with an economy of motion that told Andromeda Isabel wouldn’t be flashy in a fight, but she’d be effective.
Despite her tiredness, Andromeda stayed back, loathe to interrupt; she knew how much it meant to find peace in such a quiet pattern of movement. Isabel was setting herself up for the day and to interrupt would be to shatter her center.
Andromeda found a measure of peace in simply watching the other woman.
Completing her kata several minutes later, Isabel took a moment of silence before looking up. Her smile was quiet but deep, her eyes a brown darker than the darkest chocolate, and her skin a tawny gold. Handsome rather than beautiful, Isabel had a regal confidence to her that said she could command armies and courts without breaking her stride.
“You must be Naasir’s Andi.”
Andromeda blinked. “How could you possibly know that?” Not her identity, but Naasir’s pet name for her.
“Naasir borrowed a satellite phone from the captain of the barge after you left.” Isabel’s smile grew deeper. “It doesn’t come naturally to him, but he’s learned all about technology from Illium.”
“He’s smarter than most scholars.” Andromeda tried not to sound too proud and possessive, wasn’t sure she’d pulled it off when Isabel’s eyes crinkled as if she was holding back laughter. “More perceptive, too,” she added, unable to help herself.
Isabel’s agreement was obvious.
“And yes,” Andromeda said, “I’m Andi.” She could be that woman here, that young and happily reckless scholar who had adventures with a wild, wonderful man who bore secret tiger stripes under his skin. “Has Naasir been in touch since then?” The knot in her stomach wouldn’t dissolve until she could see him, touch him, draw in his scent.
“No,” Isabel said. “But he will make it to Amanat in far less time than it would take any other vampire, of this I’m certain.” The open affection in the other woman’s tone belied the wagging tongues of those who said she was an automaton devoid of emotions. “Come. I’ll show you where you can bathe and rest.”
Andromeda wanted to ask Isabel what it was to live the life of an ascetic, asexual and serene, for so long, couldn’t find the courage . . . because she knew her own resolve was at breaking point. “I’ll need to gather supplies for our onward journey,” she said instead, her voice rough with need and a dull, throbbing loneliness.
“Naasir mentioned it. Rest first, then you must pay your respects to Caliane. I’ll put together the supplies in the interim.”
Andromeda stumbled, barely hearing Isabel’s last sentence. “What?”
“You are in her city,” the warrior said gently. “It is a matter of form . . . though she is aware of your bloodline, so she may subject you to deeper scrutiny.”
Andromeda’s lungs strained. “I appreciate the warning.”
Leading her to a set of steps on the far side of the courtyard, Isabel showed her to a second-floor apartment filled with sunlight. The windows were open, curtains of gauzy lace pushed aside to reveal flower boxes bursting with life; more flowers grew in the large planters set on the small balcony, which could be reached through a set of doors that had also been propped open.
A fresh wind blew the lace curtains into the air, until they almost touched the four-poster bed covered with exquisitely patterned white-on-white sheets. Beneath Andromeda’s abused feet, the thick carpet was a deep blue. More flowers—a wildflower posy—sat in a little glass vase set atop a writing table.
That cheerful posy gave the elegant room an air of welcome and whimsy—as if someone had gone out and picked the blooms just for her. “It’s lovely, thank you. Especially the flowers.”
“Ah, but I can’t take any credit.” Arms loosely folded, Isabel leaned against the doorjamb. “I mentioned to one of the maidens that a friend of Naasir’s was coming to stay and she took it upon herself to make you feel welcome. He’s a favorite with the women.”
Andromeda wanted to throw the stupid posy out the window. “Yet she welcomes me when she doesn’t know if I may be a competitor?”
“They all accept that Naasir is too wild to be held by any one woman,” Isabel said easily before pushing off the doorjamb. “I’ll leave you to your ablutions. Once you’ve slept and are ready to see Caliane, you’ll find me either at my home next door, or at the temple.” A faint smile. “Caliane has instructed me to teach her maidens how to defend themselves.”
Andromeda thought of the sweet-faced creatures, some prettily plump, others reed slender, that she’d seen on her walk through the city. “Oh.”
Isabel chuckled, one hand on the hilt of the knife she wore at her hip. “Yes. It’s a sometimes frustrating task, but they’re so earnest that I can’t be angry with them—especially after they spent so much time sewing up ‘warrior clothes’ for these sessions.”
Andromeda’s lips twitched despite herself at Isabel’s suspiciously bland tone; she was curious to see the maidens’ idea of warrior clothing. “Wait,” she said when Isabel would’ve left. “Avi told me Suyin was in anshara. Did Keir say when she might wake?”
The humor faded from the other woman’s expression. “It may be many weeks or even months—she is very fragile.” A pause. “It appears immortals can die of sadness and loneliness, of an existence without hope. I never knew that.”
Tears clogged Andromeda’s throat. “Suyin . . .” She just shook her head, unable to put into words the pain she’d seen in the other woman’s eyes.
Isabel’s face reflected the knowledge Andromeda couldn’t articulate. “Caliane says it is a kind of willing the self to end. It takes a long time, but Suyin has had millennia. She probably wouldn’t have woken from her next Sleep.” Leaving on those solemn words, Isabel pulled the door shut behind herself.
Her heart feeling as if it had a crushing weight on it, and the knot in her stomach a lump of stone, Andromeda didn’t allow her gaze to linger on the bed but headed straight for the large bathing chamber. The already-filled and steaming pool of water to her left made her moan in want, but afraid she’d fall asleep, she indulged for a bare minute, then rose and washed under the shower.
As the fat droplets crashed onto her skin, she would’ve done anything to be where she’d been the last time she’d taken a proper bath, in that icy pool in the valley. She could almost feel Naasir’s strong fingers in her hair as he washed it, the sneaky touch of his hand on her feathers, the way he’d raced with her. “Hurry,” she whispered, her hand reaching out as if she’d catch him through space and time itself. “I miss you.”
24
Naasir wasn’t surprised when Jason landed beside him soon after he hit the shores of Japan. The barge hadn’t brought him all the way—he’d transferred onto another friendly and much faster vessel soon after Andromeda took flight. When he’d dived from the barge to swim across to the sleek little freighter, both crews’ mouths had fallen open. Someone had screamed.
He didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t swim.
“Andi?” he said to Jason as the two of them spoke on a deserted part of an otherwise busy dock.
“Isabel tells me she’s safe inside Amanat.” Lines of tiredness marked Jason’s ordinarily impassive face. “I just returned from the b
order between Titus and Charisemnon.”
“War?”
The black-winged angel shook his head. “A small skirmish neither side appeared to want to fan into full flame.”
“That won’t last.” Titus and Charisemnon had disliked each other for centuries if not millennia, and with the world going to hell, that dislike would collide into all-out war sooner rather than later.
“No,” Jason agreed as one of his feathers drifted to the scarred and stained concrete of the dock. “But the region’s stable enough right now that Raphael doesn’t have to worry about any ripple effects.”
Naasir had always liked Jason, but as he grew, he’d started to see that the strong, black-winged angel was lonely. Perhaps even lonelier than Naasir. He’d tried to draw Jason out, instinct telling him it wasn’t good for the angel to exist so tightly within himself, but Jason had stayed contained and remote. No longer.
“Your mate must be missing you,” he said. “You should go home.”
Jason’s dark eyes flickered the tiniest fraction but in that flicker, Naasir saw his friend’s raw need to return to his princess. “You and Andromeda will require backup.”
“If we do, I’ll contact the Tower.” Naasir had thought the plan through during his and Andromeda’s escape, discussed it with her. “Locating Alexander isn’t a sure thing.” Andromeda had made it clear her expertise only went so far—no one could predict an archangel’s actions with pinpoint accuracy.
“And it’s better if it’s a team of two,” he added. “We’ll have to move with stealth so no one spots us and alerts Lijuan’s people that they’re in the wrong place.”
Jason stretched and resettled his wings in silence. “You know I have people scattered across the world. If you need immediate assistance, call me.”
“I’ll buy a new phone before I leave the country.” He had money on a card stored in a thin waterproof case in his back pocket. At first when Illium had given him such a card, he’d spent hours staring at it, trying to figure out how it worked. He’d finally made his brain understand that the card was a kind of machine that moved money from one place to another.
When he used it in a shop, the card moved money from his own treasury to that of the shop’s. Dmitri and Illium kept an eye on his money, so he didn’t really have to think much about the mechanics of it all. What he did know was that he had plenty of funds. Raphael had always been more than fair toward his Seven, and Naasir was very good at hunting down treasures everyone thought lost.
Treasures like the stupid Grimoire book.
“Tell me what you know about a book called the Star Grimoire,” he ordered Jason, because Jason knew everything.
A raised eyebrow. “It’s a mythical book coveted by those who collect such things.”
“Do you know where it is?”
Jason’s eyes narrowed, his expression intent. “No . . . but two hundred years ago, I met an old one of our race who spoke of the Grimoire’s red leather binding and golden edges.” A pause, Jason’s form motionless in a way Naasir had never seen another angel replicate.
He didn’t interrupt. Immortals had long memories, but Jason’s was near flawless. The other man just had to track down the right piece of it.
“And this book of mysteries untold had a golden clasp carved with the fearsome image of a crouching griffin.” Jason’s voice held a rhythm not his own.
Memory stirred in Naasir, hinting tantalizingly at a clue, but stayed annoyingly out of reach when he lunged for it. “Was there anything else unique about it?”
“Yes,” Jason said after almost an entire minute of silence. “A mythical beast in gold, stamped or engraved in the leather on the front.”
Memory whispered again, only to fade. No matter. Naasir had the bit between his teeth now. First he’d find Alexander, then he’d find the Grimoire. Because Andromeda was his mate and he wanted to claim her. She might not agree with him yet, but she smelled like his mate and she liked him in his true skin, and she was as fierce as his mate should be.
He liked everything about her except her vow of celibacy.
At least if he found the Grimoire, he could court her in truth. He wanted to seduce her, wanted to make her melt. Mostly, he just wanted to keep her.
* * *
Andromeda woke to skies streaked with the vivid violets and golds of sunset.
Still wearing the robe she’d discovered on the back of the bathroom door, she got up to find her wings rested and her feet no longer as sore. Maybe she was getting stronger now that she was nearly four hundred. Rubbing her eyes on that sleepy thought, she wandered into the bathing chamber and threw cold water on her face before drying off and going to explore the options in the closet.
There were four gowns in various rich shades, three tunic and pants sets, and even a pair of jeans and a shirt. She chose a black pants and tunic set, the stark lines of it offset by the delicate silver pattern painted around the neckline. It reminded her of the color of Naasir’s eyes.
Where was he?
Dressing as that question pounded in her blood, she gathered up her crazy mass of hair—thanks to falling asleep while it was yet damp—and somehow tamed it into a braid, then slipped her feet into a pair of outdoor slippers. There were also boots in the closet in various sizes and she knew she’d be wearing a pair when she and Naasir departed Amanat.
Why wasn’t he here yet?
Leaving her sword in the room—she didn’t think Caliane would be impressed by a visitor who came to pay her respects wearing a blade—she stepped out to look for Isabel. The other woman wasn’t in her home, so Andromeda stopped a passing man to ask for directions to the temple. She used the language she’d heard spoken when Avi showed her to Isabel’s courtyard.
Beaming, the handsome ebony-skinned citizen of Amanat replied in the same tongue, offering to act as her escort to her destination. “Thank you,” she said, “but I’d like to go slowly and fully absorb this wondrous city.”
Cheeks creasing again, he gave her what she needed and she carried on.
The light show of sunset had begun to fade to a paler palette, but there was yet no need for the tall standing lamps that bordered the pathways. When she peered up, she saw that despite the weathered iron that gave the impression of having grown old apace with Amanat, the lights within were electric.
Amanat was clearly being upgraded for this century. Either Caliane was more forward-thinking than Andromeda had believed, or she had a forward-thinking advisor. Andromeda would bet on the latter. It was apt to be Avi’s beloved Jelena. As loyal to Caliane as Avi, Jelena was keenly interested in new inventions and technologies, and had often come to the Library seeking access to manuals.
Carrying on down the path, Andromeda saw a small black puppy, his coat smooth and shiny, running toward her. When he flopped down in front of her as if exhausted, she laughed and picked him up—whereupon he regained his energy and was a wiggling, excited bundle determined to give her wet puppy kisses.
Andromeda held him for some time, his warm body and the fast beat of his heart a reassurance, something familiar in an unfamiliar place. Her childhood may have been unorthodox in ways that had scarred her, but it had also been joyous because of the myriad animals who’d been her refuge, her friends, and her companions. They didn’t lie, didn’t look at her in disappointment for her scholarly inclinations, never made her feel as if she was a mistake.
It was a good thing Andromeda was so clearly her mother’s daughter—it avoided awkward questions about the other side of her bloodline. Andromeda had always wondered if Lailah had chosen Cato in part because he’d permit her to exercise her tendencies without limits. After all, he was exactly the same.
If you were mine, I wouldn’t let you rut with others.
Her face flushed just as the puppy wriggled to be put down. Placing him on the ground, she watched him race away on stubby little legs, but her mind was on a predator with silver eyes.
Naasir was like the animals who’d kept her sane during
her otherwise friendless childhood. She didn’t think he’d take the comparison as an insult—not when he had the same honest core. He was far, far better than most “normal” people she’d met in her near–four hundred years of life.
“Andi!”
She jerked up her head at the call to find Isabel waving to her from in front of a set of wide doors that led into the temple carved into the side of a mountain. A number of exhausted-appearing young women flowed out of the temple and toward nearby homes.
Deep orange tunic and pants offset by a green fabric belt tied to the side, a bright pink gi-style top matched with wide-legged white pants, a vivid blue tunic that came to mid-thigh paired with black leggings, those were three of the more conservative outfits.
Biting back a laugh, Andromeda joined Isabel by the doors. “Warrior clothes?”
Affectionate amusement in Isabel’s eyes. “I think they consider anything with pants, or that shows the legs, as scandalous and warrior-like.” Unlike her drooping students, Isabel didn’t appear as if she’d broken so much as a sweat. “Caliane is walking the orange grove at the other end of the city. We’ll fly to her.”
“An orange grove in this climate?” Andromeda said before she realized the shield around Amanat allowed Raphael’s mother to control the temperature within. “Does she ever lower the shield?”
“Not since a maiden was killed by one of Charisemnon’s diseases.” Isabel’s lips flattened into a thin line as Andromeda’s stomach dropped. “He thought to use Kahla as a carrier, but she died before infecting anyone. It broke Caliane’s heart.”
“I’m so sorry,” Andromeda said, nauseated at knowing the murder had been done by a member of her family . . . and terrified what Caliane would do to her for it.
“It wasn’t your doing.” Isabel squeezed her shoulder. “You are as innocent as Kahla.”
Flaring out her wings on those quiet words, Isabel took off.
Andromeda followed, knowing full well that Caliane might not be as forgiving.