“I do not have courtiers as such.” Alexander’s tone was cool. “However, I do have warriors and scholars in my inner circle. And I must rebuild my court after so many of them were murdered fighting alongside my son.”
A chill filled the room, Alexander’s power suddenly an agonizing pressure against Andromeda’s eardrums, his wings having taken on a glow no one wanted to witness. Not because it wasn’t glorious—oh, it was—but because archangels generally glowed right before they meted out death, vicious and final.
“I am honored,” Andromeda said when it appeared her parents had been struck dumb. “A position in an Ancient’s court is usually never offered to an angel so young.”
Alexander’s lips curved, and at that instant, she could see the “beautiful warrior” written of in stories of his reign. But she couldn’t see him as a man, for in his eyes, she saw such age that it threatened to crush. She didn’t know what woman would ever be able to handle the sheer power of him. Caliane? But Caliane was famously still in love with the mate she’d been forced to execute.
No one else on the planet was Alexander’s equal in power and age.
“Ah, but you are not usual, are you, scholar?” Alexander’s eyes locked with hers. “Not many people would dare tell a Sleeping Ancient to ‘Listen, damn you!’”
As her parents choked on appalled disbelief, Andromeda found herself smiling. “In my defense, I was trying to save your life and you were being terribly arrogant and bad-tempered.”
Throwing back his head, Alexander laughed, the sound filling the room in a way that made her understand why he had a friendship with Titus. The Archangel of Southern Africa also laughed with such open and unalloyed delight when amused.
“Yes,” Alexander said afterward, “you are not usual, Andromeda.” Smile yet on his lips, he turned to her parents. “I’m informed your child is tied by a blood vow, that she cannot accept my offer.”
“Oh,” her father said in an awed tone. “If you would give us a moment, we will speak to the Archangel Charisemnon. He is the only one who can release her.”
Neither Andromeda nor Alexander said a word while her parents were out of the room. For Andromeda, there was too much at stake, and the Ancient likely had other concerns on his mind. Like rebuilding his palace and reclaiming his territory. He didn’t have time to come all this way to offer Andromeda a place in his court, no matter what role she’d played in saving his life. Not to mention it was a security risk, given his weakened state.
How had Naasir done this?
Stifling her curiosity and trying not to allow her hope to burn too bright, she waited. When her mother walked back into the room, Lailah said, “Andromeda, your grandfather would like to speak to you in the study.”
Andromeda excused herself and went quickly to the room with the large screen that currently hosted Charisemnon’s ravaged visage—shadowed in a way to make it seem he bore no scars. Her father left the instant she entered. “Sire,” she said on a deep bow. “You have heard?”
“Yes.” Charisemnon’s eyes gleamed, avaricious and satisfied. “You must accept. To have one of my blood in Alexander’s court is an unimaginable coup.”
“I am bound by my blood vow.”
Charisemnon waved a hand. “I release you from the vow.”
Her blood thundered, her head spinning. Tensing her stomach and managing to keep her feet though her knees threatened to crumple, she met her grandfather’s gaze. “I believe the Ancient will wish to hear you say so himself. He is of the old guard and apt to be traditional about such matters.” She hoped Alexander would back her because she needed him as witness. No one would ever question his word. “Shall I fetch him?”
“Yes. I should like to speak to him.”
Walking back into the receiving room on rubbery legs, she made the request. Alexander’s eyes held an unexpected amusement as he got up and walked with her. “I thank you for your indulgence,” the Ancient said to her grandfather when Charisemnon formally released her from the blood vow. “It is a loss to send such a grandchild to another’s court.”
“She will always be family,” Charisemnon said, once more an archangel pulsing with power. “I hope this will lead to strong ties between our two courts.”
Alexander inclined his head slightly and Charisemnon didn’t seem to notice the Ancient hadn’t actually agreed.
“Do you need to pack?” Alexander asked as soon as the conversation ended, his tone curt and businesslike.
“No. I can go now.” She had her sword; everything else, she and Naasir would figure out later.
“Good. I must return to my territory.” Striding back to farewell her still somewhat-bewildered parents, he gave her a minute to grab a small bag of high-energy dried food for the journey, then ordered her to follow him out.
Andromeda said a quick good-bye to Lailah and Cato, was startled when her mother hugged her close and whispered, “Fly free, my daughter. Be what I could never be and leave the cage forever.”
Andromeda stared, the haunting words echoing inside her skull, but in front of her, Lailah was once more the cruel, beautiful mother she’d always known, and Alexander was in the air.
She lifted off.
51
There was no way Andromeda could keep up with Alexander, no matter if he wasn’t at full strength. It was a physical impossibility for any young angel. However, the Ancient stayed with her to the border. The instant they reached the sea, he told her to find her way to his territory at her own pace, then flew high and fast, heading home to a people who needed him.