Aodhan stared at the floor. “Do you think he’s all right?”
“Jason would’ve got word to us if anything was wrong.” She went to touch a hand to his forearm, stopped herself in time. “You want to look at these paintings or shall we go in?” She figured Xander and Valerius would find them easily enough when they arrived.
“No, I am eager to see the older works.” A small smile that nonetheless lit up his face. “Illium is always teasing me about my liking for ‘moldy old relics.’” The smile faded as quickly as it had appeared.
“You two have been friends for centuries,” she reminded him. “Fights happen.”
“Not like this. Not so he wouldn’t come to see me off on a long journey.”
Elena shook her head. “You’re wrong. Sara and I didn’t talk once for three whole weeks.” It still hurt to think back to that time, to how much she’d missed her best friend, a woman who was her family by choice. “It was a stupid disagreement that dragged on, both of us too young and too proud to say sorry first—but through it all, I always knew she had my back, as she knew I had hers. Do you doubt that about Illium and you?”
“No, never.” He looked away from her, to the door in front of them. “Illium has never been so angry before. He doesn’t stay angry. Not with me.”
“But you’re angry, too,” she pointed out. “No point ignoring that or you two will just fight again. When we go back, have it out with him.” She played a blade through her fingers. “I recommend getting swords and going at it.”
Aodhan’s eyes were so difficult to read, but when he faced her again, she thought he might be laughing. “Perhaps you are right. I was . . . closed within for a long time. I think Illium has forgotten who I was before I was broken.”
Pulling at the final door with one hand, Elena found she couldn’t budge it. She waved toward Aodhan. “So remind him,” she said as he hauled it open. “But don’t forget that all the time you turned recluse, he was also growing and living his life. He’s not the same person, either.”
Aodhan didn’t reply, but she knew he’d absorb and think about her words. Aodhan always listened and considered—
“Holy shit.” Her mouth fell open.
In her mind, she’d thought the Gallery would be like a museum—the walls hung with works of art, sculptures artfully arranged or lit up in little cubbyholes. She’d pretty much expected the high ceiling because of the second, opaque, dome she’d seen when they overflew Lumia—but she could’ve never expected this.
The dome was part of the Gallery all right. It was an astonishing display high above her head, the underside painted with exquisite attention to detail and softly lit to showcase the artwork. But the dome was just the start. She and Aodhan stood on a gangway about ten feet wide that went around the entire room. In the center of the room was a plunging hole that appeared bottomless. In the center of that hole hung a staircase that spiraled down with pathways splitting off on various sides to lead viewers into other sections.
The Gallery was a misnomer. This was a tower of galleries.
The designers had left enough room that you could fly down if you didn’t want to take the stairs—though if you took the stairs, you’d see far more of the art even if you didn’t step off on every level. On the other hand, it would take forever to walk down—because though she hung out as far as she could without unbalancing and falling into the hole, Elena couldn’t see the end of the Gallery.
It kept going and going and going until it disappeared into what looked like shimmers of gold. As if she was looking into the heart of a distant sun. “How deep is this?” she whispered, not really expecting an answer.
Having leaned over the edge with her, Aodhan said, “Shall we find out?” The exhilaration in his tone reminded her of what Raphael had said: there was a reason Illium and Aodhan had become lifelong friends.
She grinned at him in answer but didn’t immediately jump. “We can’t go straight down—the staircase and pathways off to the different levels create obstacles. We’ll have to go floor by floor.” In preparation, she closed the split diagonal zipper over the top of her dress that appeared to be nothing but a decorative detail. It closed by pleating the extra fabric inward, making her gown snug enough that it wouldn’t fly up—she really had to give Montgomery and the tailor props for thinking outside the box.
Aodhan pointed to their first landing spot, then they both grinned—she’d never seen that look on Aodhan’s face—and stepped off the edge. A rush of cool air turned slightly colder by their momentum and they were on the second lower level. It was all freestanding marble sculptures here, the pieces no doubt priceless. Elena, however, was far more interested in exploring just how far the Luminata had dug the Gallery into the earth.
“That spot next.” She pointed to one two levels down. “No obstructions.”
Aodhan dropped.
Laughing, she followed, the shattered light of his wings a glorious sight below her as he came to a halt in a spot that gave her plenty of room to land herself. Her heart thumped as she glanced around. Two Luminata stood on this level, their hoods down. They appeared to be talking very quietly about a leather-bound book one was holding.
Seeing Elena and Aodhan, they both frowned. It was a very “hush in the library” look.
Elena tried to look suitably chastened before nodding at the next spot to Aodhan and they were falling. This time, they landed by a portrait gallery, an endless number of stunning images on display. So much sheer beauty. “Angelkind really won the genetic lottery,” she said to Aodhan. “No wonder they’re so jaded.” When this was their normal, it became difficult to admire anyone or anything.