His shoulders knotted, his jaw clenching hard enough to hurt as water pummeled his bare skin. He. Was. Done.
5
Yesterday
Sharine’s heart bloomed at seeing Aegaeon bend down to grab their son, who was toddling toward him as fast as his little legs could carry. He was a big man, Aegaeon, with wide shoulders and muscled arms, his hair a vivid blue-green and his eyes the same vibrant shade.
His wings were a darker green interrupted by streaks of wild blue.
It was from his father that Illium had inherited the blue that tipped his hair. The same blue had begun to color the fluffy yellow-white of his baby feathers.
Now, Illium laughed in delight as his father picked him up and swung him around. Aegaeon laughed, too, open in his pride in his son, and in his happiness at being with him.
Sharine knew Aegaeon didn’t love her, not in the way that Raan had loved her. Aegaeon kept a harem at his court. He had lovers aplenty. But Sharine was content. Because he’d given her Illium, the greatest joy of her life. And he loved Illium. That was what mattered.
They’d already spoken about when Illium grew older and could be taken to Aegaeon’s court for visits. Sharine would go with him, of course. That had never been in question. Aegaeon was a good father, but he didn’t know how to look after a rambunctious little boy—he’d admitted that himself.
She hated the court, but Aegaeon had promised her that she and Illium would have an entire wing away from the venomous menagerie of his harem. “Even should your paths cross, they won’t dare touch you, whether by voice or by act,” Aegaeon had promised. “You are the mother of my son.”
Regardless, Sharine wasn’t looking forward to that part of things, but she was glad for Illium. Right now, at so young an age, he was happy to live with her, and to see his father only when Aegaeon came to visit the Refuge, but there would come a time when her boy needed his father’s guidance.
She’d seen that with Nadiel and Caliane’s boy.
Her heart ached at the thought of the new archangel who’d once been a youth devastated by the execution of his father. But Raphael had never blamed his mother for her actions, old enough to understand that his father was no longer who he’d once been, and needed to be stopped.
Still, she knew he missed Nadiel.
Boys and their fathers, it was a different bond than the one they had with their mothers.
Today, her boy sat proudly in his father’s arms as Aegaeon closed the rest of the distance to Sharine’s cottage. Aegaeon was shirtless, as was his predilection, and the swirl on his chest shone silver in the sunlight. He was a handsome man, and once, he’d taken her breath away.
That first flush of love had passed, but she still turned her face into his palm when he cupped her cheek, her heart sighing at his return. “Welcome home.”
“It is good to be here,” Aegaeon said, his voice a deep pulse she felt in her bones, and his smile blinding. “What a treat you are for my eyes, Sharine.” A low rumble. “My court is a place of constant battle, but here, there is peace. I would live always in the Refuge were I able.”
Sweet, sweet words that fell like nourishing rain on a heart that had never again thought to fall in love. “We have missed you.” Before him, she’d believed she was content in her aloneness, in her small circle of friendship and art.
Then he’d swept into her life, made his way into her heart, woken her up again. “I wish you could be here always, too,” she said, pushing aside the knowledge of his harem, and of his life in a far-off land kissed by another ocean.
None of that mattered as long as he loved their son.
Freedom and love are entwined.
—Lady Sharine
6
Today
Aodhan hadn’t slept. He was old enough that he didn’t need sleep as a mortal did, but he still usually got a few hours a night. That had been impossible last night, with Illium behind a closed door across from him.
At any other time in their history, he’d have thought nothing of just opening that door and walking in, sprawling himself down in a chair and talking to the other man while Illium wound down from the stress of the long flight.
Even during the years immediately after his rescue when he’d been lost in a nightmare so profound that he’d been all but dead, Illium had been a familiar and welcome presence in his life. Aodhan had stopped talking for a long time, but he’d always stayed in the room when Illium spoke to him—Illium had told Aodhan of his latest work for Raphael, spoken of his newest fleeting romance, or of things amusing and interesting that he’d thought Aodhan would enjoy.