Archangel’s Ascension (The Guild Hunter Series)

Illium lifted Elena off her feet with the strength of his hug. “How are you here?!”

“Lady Sharine called, and of course we were going to be here. Everyone wanted to come, but we couldn’t abandon the territory en masse. So you’ll have to hold a second celebration in New York.”

As for Naasir and Andromeda, it turned out the couple had been close by.noveldrama

“We went to see my parents,” Andi said to him during a lull, while they were seated together sharing a plate of small foods. “I don’t know quite how to be with them, but seeing this…” She indicated the smiling faces, the lights, the happiness. “I want to one day be in a place like this with them. Not physically, but of the heart. It might take centuries if we ever even get there, but they’re not who they once were, so maybe…”

Illium took her hand, squeezed. “I’ve seen it from both sides—my father went to Sleep an asshole, woke up an asshole. But my mother…she was fractured, lost, and look at her now.”

Sharine glowed as she danced with Aodhan—who was teasing her in that quiet, dry way of his. Illium could tell from the look on his mother’s face, the way she kept pursing her lips to fight the losing battle to laugh.

If he hadn’t already been madly in love with Aodhan, he’d have fallen then and there. He’d tackle his lover tonight, smother him in kisses and caresses and possibly a few bites. Because the man was bitable.

“Lady Sharine gives me hope,” Andromeda whispered. “I feel as if Lailah and Cato were lost in a dream, too, and they’ve woken up at last. So…we shall see.” Wariness and hope entwined.

Then there was only a wild delight, as Naasir dragged her up into a dance, snuggling her body close to his and murmuring things that made her eyes crinkle and her ears go pink at the tips.

She had a long road ahead of her when it came to her parents. All Illium could hope was that Lailah and Cato didn’t let her—and themselves—down.

Tonight, however, it was another set of parents who had his attention.

Rising, he walked to where Menerva and Rukiel stood in the quietest possible corner, all but vanishing into the tree that shadowed them. Though Aodhan’s parents were scholars who preferred a quiet life, Illium hadn’t been surprised when they accepted this invitation. Because when it was important, and no matter their own discomfort, they always turned up for Aodhan.

Which was why Illium held them in affection, and why he asked Menerva if she’d dance with him. Pale-skinned with wings of a gold so soft, it was sunlight on water, and long golden hair, Aodhan’s mother had eyes of crystalline green the same shade as some of the shards in Aodhan’s irises.

“Oh,” she said in a hesitant tone. “I’m not sure.” A glance at Rukiel.

“You should,” her equally blond mate said, his smile soft and a touch dreamy in the way of a scholar not quite present in the world. “It is our son’s amber revel and his beloved asks you.”

Amber revel.

Illium’s mother had made up that term on the spot, and everyone had accepted it with gusto. Given the way each and every person in the citadel—from the cooks to the warriors to the scholars—had gone crazy over it, he had the feeling amber revels were about to become all the rage.

“I will be quite all right,” Rukiel reassured Menerva when she continued to hesitate. “I like watching everyone.” He met Illium’s gaze. “Thank you for always being my son’s best friend in all this world, Illium.”

The gentle comment carried the weight of a father’s love.

Aodhan was beside him before he could reply, having finished his dance with Sharine. Rukiel’s face lit up, and that was enough for Menerva to accept Illium’s invitation. As they moved in a slow dance, she said, “Rukiel is far shyer than he pretends.” A low whisper. “But he loves spending time with Aodhan. We’re both grateful to have a son who doesn’t hold his childhood against us.”

Illium smiled. “He had a wonderful childhood—I should know, I was there right beside him for every mud-splattered adventure.” And for that gift, he’d forever cherish Aodhan’s parents. “You understood that you couldn’t give a little boy what he needed, so you let him spend as much time as he wanted with someone who could. Your generosity was an act of deepest love.”

Menerva swallowed hard, looked away. But she didn’t halt the dance, and when he returned her to Rukiel and Aodhan, she took her son’s hand in hers and just held it. Until a small boy ran up to tug on Aodhan’s pant leg. When Aodhan looked down, the chubby boy with black curls and skin of golden bronze, his wings—a deep gold with striations of bronze already too big for his body—held up his arms.

Chuckling, Aodhan reached down to swing his nephew up into the air, to the boy’s giggle. Children this young were rarely ever taken out of the Refuge, but Titus had provided Aodhan’s entire family with a winged escort for their journey, and Indri had spent the time being carried by warrior after warrior, his small body nowhere near able to fly that distance.

The little one’s eyes were like Aodhan’s just enough to tell everyone they were family. Irises that were otherwise pale green had a shattered outer ring that made the boy’s gaze sparkle. Seeing them together, with Indri chattering a mile a minute at the uncle who was his hero, made Illium go soft inside.

“I was sorry to hear that there is no longer any chance of ascension for you,” Menerva murmured, her fingers gentle on his forearm. “But you are so powerful already, you shouldn’t worry.”

Had it been someone else, he might’ve taken the comment as a dig, but Aodhan’s parents were almost painfully sincere. It was as if they’d never quite learned the art of subterfuge. “Shall I share a secret with you?” he whispered, leaning down.

Her eyes widened. “Yes, of course. I would never betray your confidence, Illium.”

“I never wanted to ascend.” He winked. “If I had, I’d have had to leave Raphael’s Tower, leave the Seven, and I might even have ended up in a war with Titus one day since archangels go to war for the slightest things. Ascension would’ve made a mess of my beautiful life.”

Menerva’s lips rounded. “I’d never considered that, but yes, I see. How foolish that others don’t. Goodness, now you make me think about it, I wouldn’t want to ascend, either—I love my life as you love yours.” She patted his arm. “Never you mind, I’ll get Imalia to set everyone straight. I don’t know how I birthed a daughter with such a wonderful ability to speak to all the world, but that I did is not in question.”

Delighted that nonconfrontational Menerva was so annoyed on his behalf, he took her hand, pressed a kiss to it. “It’s all right, Menerva. The people who matter understand.”

A flicker of light in his peripheral vision, Aodhan having moved to an open area to swing his nephew around in circles that had the boy screaming with laughter and saying, “Faster, Uncle!” while Imalia pressed her hands over her eyes as if she couldn’t watch. The boy’s dark-haired father stood beside her, one hand on her back, the other fisted in the air as he cheered on their son.

Yes, Illium loved his life.

Most of all, he loved the man who lit it up with his starlight.