Raphael’s second was so much older than Illium and Aodhan that, most of the time, he treated them like awkward, fumbling pups. But, on that one occasion, Dmitri had seen something in Aodhan and pulled him aside. “He won’t listen to you right now,” the vampire had murmured.
“That first love is a small madness.” Haunted echoes in his voice. “For some, it leads to a bond indestructible. For others, it ignites fast and fades as quickly. This shows all the hallmarks of the latter. Leave him be to make that discovery himself rather than turning yourself into an enemy of his love. Be there for him when his heart breaks.”
Aodhan had followed Dmitri’s advice, gritting his teeth and staying quiet whenever Illium mooned over Kaia. What he’d never expected was that he’d have to be there for Illium because he’d breached such a fundamental law that it gave Raphael no choice but to punish him with utmost harshness.
“Are you grounded, too?” To not be permitted to fly, to miss his squadron training, it would hit Illium where it hurt him the most.
A sharp bark of laughter. “He’s taking my feathers. It’s what I deserve.”
Aodhan swallowed hard. The taking of an angel’s feathers by an archangel was just one step below total excision of healthy wings. The impact of the process would leave Illium with translucent wings that, unlike an infant’s, could be spread and stretched—and that were hauntingly beautiful when opened in the light, a shimmering mirage of flight.
Only a member of the Cadre was capable of doling out the punishment—which, despite the visual impact and painful surface burns, caused no serious damage to the underlying wing structure. So it was another mercy that Raphael was doing Illium. But an angel wasn’t designed for featherless flight; to lose your feathers was to lose your wings.
Aodhan didn’t know how long it’d take for Illium’s extraordinary feathers to return, how long his friend would be tied to the earth. Despite his question, however, part of him had known this was coming; he’d just hoped for leniency. But Raphael had already shown the greatest possible leniency by allowing Illium’s lover to live.
Not many of the Cadre would have been that kind.
Aodhan was happy for that mercy for Illium’s sake, but he worried at the repercussions. He knew Illium. As soon as he healed, he’d be unable to stop himself from going back to the village to watch over his lover from a distance.
That was how Illium was about his loves—he held on to them with teeth and claws. It made him capable of a depth of loyalty rare and precious, but it also left him wide open to devastation.
Today, that devastation was a gray rain that washed all the color from Aodhan’s best friend. Heart aching for him, Aodhan sat in the cold and held him, and let him talk. Then he flew beside Illium as he made his way back to Raphael for the final part of his punishment. Aodhan was the only witness, for Raphael would never make Illium’s chastisement a public spectacle.
As long as he lived, Aodhan would never forget the searing flash of archangelic power, the voiceless agony on Illium’s face, the dragonfly shimmer of wings gone translucent before they blazed red from the burn . . . or the carpet of wild blue left behind in the aftermath. Neither would he forget how hard Raphael embraced Illium once it was done, the archangel’s eyes glittering with rage and sorrow.
33
Today
After leaving Li Wei and her team safe within the stronghold, Aodhan flew a grid over the thick forest between it and the hamlet, his eyes trained on the landscape below—though he never lost track of his aerial surroundings. Lijuan still had many angelic admirers in this land.
The wind was cool over his wings, the sky darker with every moment that passed—but when he looked in the direction Illium had gone, he was still able to pinpoint the dot of blue that traced a grid in the sky. Illium was a dancer in the air even in so repetitive and routine a task; it was a pleasure to watch him fly.
As a child, he’d always tried to teach Aodhan the tricks he could do in the air. Aodhan, in turn, had tried to teach him how to draw the lines and shapes that came naturally to his hand. Illium had produced enthusiastic blotches on canvas—and Aodhan had tangled his wings more than once while attempting fancy flying tricks.
They’d laughed hysterically at each other’s failures, but it had been a laughter without malice, the kind of laughter shared between fast friends. Soon enough, they’d understood that their abilities were divergent and couldn’t be shared—and so had switched to supporting each other’s efforts.