They spoke about the jobs on Arzaleya’s plate, and of the future of the territory, were joined at some point by Yindi, Xan, and others. Illium stayed for a while, enjoying the company. But tiredness got to him at last. “It’s bed for me. Good night.” He hadn’t slept the previous night, having taken a security shift.
The others shouted out good night, and he headed off after picking up Smoke’s sleeping body. When he heard whispered giggling halfway through his journey, he glanced to the right just in time to see Kai running off with her hand in that of the mortal who loved her.
Again, he waited for the blow of pain. Again, it didn’t come.
All he felt was a warm affection for the descendant of the woman he’d loved as a young man just finding his wings. There was no envy or jealousy in him, nothing but the heart’s ache that comes with memories of times long past.
Looking up at the diamond-studded sky, he took a deep breath. No more clinging to the past because he was panicked about the future. No using a faded ghost as a talisman against the unknown to come. To make his love for Kaia into nothing but a habit of comfort, that would devalue them both.
Going to the tent he’d put up when the snow began to build on the ground, he placed Smoke on his bedroll, where she’d be comforted by his scent. Then, though he was exhausted, he flew far enough out to sea that the waters were deep and the waves wouldn’t wash anything back to shore.
The pendant was flat and small and thin on his palm when he pulled it out of his pocket. Hovering above the night-touched ocean, he lifted it to his mouth, pressed a gentle kiss on it. “Good-bye, Kaia. It was my joy to have known and loved you.”
Despite everything, he would never be sorry for having loved her, for she was part of the tapestry of his life, one thread weaving into the next. He wouldn’t be who he was today without her, and her memory would stay with him into eternity, a treasured part of his history.
But their time had passed lifetimes ago.
Heart at peace, he opened his hand and allowed the charm to float gently into the arms of the endless ocean.
52
Though he’d come to peace with his memory of Kaia, Illium remained edgy about Aodhan in the days that followed. He hated that they were so far apart when they’d just found their way back to each other. He’d had a nightmare the previous night that Aodhan would use the time apart to convince himself that he had to break the bonds of their relationship to find freedom.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
Aggravated with his own misbehaving subconscious, he slammed a beam into place, went to pick up one more. Suyin had asked him to track down some supplies, but he needed the physical outlet right now; he’d do the computer work once he’d burned off the tumult in his body and mind.
When Arzaleya waved him down from the sky, he thought about pretending he hadn’t seen her, but it wasn’t the general’s fault he was feeling pissy. He landed. “Yeah?” He shoved back the snow-damp strands of his hair at the same time, remembering how Aodhan had told him he needed a haircut.
“Package for you.” The other angel handed it over. “I saw it coming in and knew you wouldn’t be back to your tent till nightfall. Figured you might want to see it earlier. You should probably take a break anyway.”
Arzaleya raised an eyebrow. “You’re wearing out the crew with how fast you’re moving, and how much material you can shift on your own. Give them a breather or I’ll be dealing with a revolt.”
Illium scowled, but he didn’t argue. Fact was, he liked getting packages, and he was curious about who’d sent this and what was inside. If he had to guess the identity of the sender, he’d say Ellie or his mother. “I might grab something to eat.”
It wasn’t until after he’d wolfed down a filled roll, drunk half a bottle of fresh juice, and petted an insistent Smoke that he sat down on his favorite stone above the beach and looked at the package. It had come by angelic courier and was stamped with the seal of the Tower . . . but in the field for the sender’s identity was a name most unexpected: Aodhan.
He ran his fingers over the fluid black strokes, his cheeks suddenly hot. His fingers turned clumsy as he tried to tear open the box, until he finally made himself stop and take several deep breaths. Then he retrieved a pocketknife from his pants. The blade sharp as a razor, it took but a stroke to cut open the seal.
Inside was a small blue bag as familiar to Illium as his own sword. From Catalina’s bakery, it proved to hold her famous angel-wing alfajores, the filling in between coconut-infused dulce de leche. She’d come up with the initial recipe for the dulce de leche, while Lorenzo had struck on the idea of making the cookies in the shape of angel wings.