Archangel’s Enigma (Guild Hunter #8)(69)
Author: Nalini Singh

“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.

Deep in the orange grove, the Ancient wasn’t dressed in one of the flowing gowns in which she was so often depicted in scrolls and illustrated manuscripts. Instead, she wore faded brown leathers similar to Avi’s, her midnight black hair pulled back in a braid much like Andromeda’s.

“Isabel,” Caliane said in greeting when the warrior-angel landed, her voice hauntingly pure. “Are my maidens improving?”

“Like snails, my Lady.”

Caliane’s smile was unexpected and startlingly beautiful, her lips soft pink against skin of pure cream. “You must be patient—they are hothouse flowers suddenly exposed to the wind and the rain.” Her smile faded. “Would that it wasn’t necessary to teach them thus, but the world is changing into a dark place where the innocent are no longer safe.”

Isabel bowed her head slightly in a gesture of respect. “I bring you Andromeda. She is Naasir’s friend, of whom I spoke to you earlier.”

“Ah.” The excruciatingly pure blue of Caliane’s eyes, eyes she’d bequeathed her son, locked with Andromeda’s. “Charisemnon’s grandchild.” Daggers of ice in that voice that could be a beautiful, horrifying weapon. “And yet you show the good taste of escaping from Lijuan to help save Alexander’s life.”

“My Lady.” Not sure what else to do or say, Andromeda bowed deeply—unlike Isabel, she wasn’t a trusted warrior but a much younger guest.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t execute you this instant for the crime done in my city?”

Blood a roar in her ears, Andromeda dared meet Caliane’s eyes. “If blood alone is what defines us, no child born is born in freedom.”

Caliane’s wings glowed for an endless heartbeat before subsiding. “Well said, fledgling. And do not look so terrified—I am not in the habit of hurting children for the crimes of their elders.” The archangel glanced at Isabel while Andromeda tried to keep from shaking. “Go, Isabel. I know you must do your flight over the city.”

“Lady.” Isabel left with another small incline of her head.

“She watches over my city as diligently as if it is her own,” Caliane said conversationally as she motioned for Andromeda to join her in her walk amongst the rows of trees that made up the grove. “I’ve told my son I will tempt her into staying with me, but he is confident in the loyalty of his people.” A glance at Andromeda. “Your wild friend could not wait to return to Raphael’s side.”

Andromeda took a moment to think. Some older angels could take grave insult at a single wrong word, and she had no desire to end up eviscerated. “Your city is astonishing,” she said, doing nothing to hide her wonder. “For me, it’s like being shown a treasure box.” She could spend weeks just walking the streets of Amanat, listening to the lilt of its people’s voices. “But Naasir is meant for wilder places and less civilized adventures.”