Even as he went to open his mouth, Aodhan said, “Peace, Maximus. You may as well say the same for those angels who remain loyal to her. You know they exist—any number of the survivors of the war are only in China and part of Archangel Suyin’s forces because no one else will have them.”
The rebuke was quietly delivered, its impact unmistakable.
Maximus sagged, then raised those big, square-fingered hands to rub at his face. “You’re right,” he said afterward. “At least the mortals have the excuse of a short lifetime—for anyone who wasn’t born outside the territory, all of it will have been spent under Lijuan’s reign. Our kind have no such excuse. They know everything of what she did, were right in the thick of her madness and evil.”
He slapped one hand palm-down on the table. “Why do they continue to revere her?” His voice held confusion, his eyes oddly lost for a man so solid and certain of himself.
Suyin shook her head.
“Mortals have a theory,” Illium said, and all at once, was the center of attention.
“What can mortals know about Lijuan?” Maximus demanded, his eyebrows lowered over eyes of faded blue.
Illium wasn’t in the least cowed; he’d dealt with rough and rowdy warriors far more belligerent than Maximus. “It’s not about Lijuan. About why people remain in bad situations. The theory is one based on the fallacy of time sunk and resources invested.
“At a certain point, say mortal healers of the mind, walking away no longer seems an option—even when a person knows that it’s the only right choice. It’s not logical, but is rather an emotional reaction. It’s why cattle remain with vampires who bleed them dry, and vampires serve cruel masters even after their Contract comes to an end.”
A pause around the table, as the others chewed over his words.
“I think the mortals are right,” Suyin murmured. “All these warriors made a choice, and they know the choice will sully their honor for an eon. So they cling to the falsehoods she peddled in order to justify their choice, and to continue to believe themselves righteous.”
A sudden shake of her head. “Enough. Let us have no more talk about my aunt. Her time is done. Let’s cleanse our palate by talking of my new citadel.” She turned to Aodhan. “I’ve asked my second for his thoughts on the design.”
Pride speared Illium’s veins. Suyin was an architect of great renown, had designed buildings that were revered to this day, yet she respected Aodhan enough to ask his opinion. She valued him. Truly valued him. As much as Raphael valued him. Aodhan would lose nothing by staying with her, while gaining incredible prestige.
The realization was a boulder in Illium’s gut.
“What you propose is lovely and graceful and true to you,” Aodhan said, the light playing over the faultless line of his profile and picking out the sparkle in his hair, in his skin, in the feathers visible where his wings arched above his shoulders.
Suyin raised an eyebrow. “But?”
“You should remember Naasir’s advice.”
A buzz of conversation around the room, as one and all wondered what Naasir might’ve said. Illium’s fellow member of the Seven was well-known in angelkind—though not many truly knew him. Strangers and acquaintances might be excused for believing him contained and tight-lipped, a deadly predator who could be an assassin or a courtier.
His friends knew a far different Naasir: a man who was wild at heart, capable of endless affection and gifts that made sense only to him. Women tumbled headlong into love with him, but he loved only one woman. His treasured Andromeda. His Andi.
Soft laughter from Suyin as she raised her glass to Aodhan. “I take your point.” Then she turned to the table to put them out of their misery. “Naasir has advised me to be more scary.”
A pause before every single person at the table nodded in firm agreement.
Even as Suyin groaned, Yindi was saying, “We love you, sire, and we think you the greatest of archangels with your compassion and your courage—but that isn’t the fuel on which the Cadre runs.”
“Yindi is, alas, correct,” Maximus intoned with unexpected glumness.
“Enough, enough.” Suyin laughed, and in that moment, Illium saw the archangel she was under the weight of sorrow and the pain of the past. A woman of great power and great beauty and even greater heart. “I will be certain to add several spiky turrets and perhaps a gun wall or three. Aodhan can surely fashion skulls out of bone-appearing material for me to mount on the walls.”