Archangel's Storm

“Stay close.” Reaching back, he drew his sword from its sheath.

Mahiya raised a hand as if she’d touch the obsidian blade that seemed to roil with black flame, before dropping the blade and falling in step beside him. Deciding against using the vine-shrouded door in front of them, he walked with quiet steps around the side of the palace. They had to be careful of their footing, the moss slippery.

The palace had been designed to sit above the water level, but it was clear the monsoon rains had been strong enough to overwhelm it in years past. The marks of those deluges were waves of brown on the discolored marble of the building. It was probable the lake had some mechanism by which the waters could be bled off to other waterways—he’d seen such in other parts of Neha’s land. But this palace and its surrounds had lain fallow for over three hundred years, any blockage in the system untended.

A doorway allowed sunlight to spill into the room beyond.

“Wait.” He entered with care, taking in every desolate corner before nodding at Mahiya to enter.

“There’s nothing here.” Disappointment turned her voice leaden as she took in the debris and moss and the dried remnants of sludge that had come in when the waters rose. While the air wasn’t damp, the sunshine probing deep, the layers of dirt created a musty, earthy scent that made it clear this room had seen no other living presence for centuries. “The furniture must’ve been made of wood, rotted.”

“Yes.” He stepped to a shadowy doorway leading inward. “If I were hiding within, I would choose the core.” Where light would be least likely to escape come night.

Mahiya’s wing brushed his as she took her place beside him once more.

The rooms that followed were as bleak as the first. Stripped of furniture, carpet, and paintings, they were hollows broken and echoing, though Mahiya was able to guess at the functions of some from the placement of windows devoid of glass and doors long destroyed.

“It must’ve been magnificent when alive,” she whispered. “Like a jewel on the water at night, the lights reflected in the lak—”

Warned by her sudden silence, he followed her gaze and saw color. Crimson. Shiny and sleek, a ribbon that might have come from a woman’s dress.

“Lovers,” Mahiya murmured, picking up the decadent hue that did not belong in this lonely palace devoid of laughter, “may be using this as a pace for discreet assignations.” It was patent she fought hope.

“Perhaps.” It was too old and without comfort to tempt most, but he’d known young angels to do startling things.

“It’s soft.” She rubbed her fingers along the ribbon. “It can’t have been here long or the damp would’ve seeped in, turned the satin rough when it dried.” Her voice was near soundless, her wings held tight to her back to give Jason as much room as possible as they moved through the palace.

Two rooms later, he held up a fisted hand.

Mahiya halted.

Not moving a muscle, Jason listened. But the wind, it didn’t whisper the name of Mahiya’s mother, nor did it warn of danger. Still, he’d sensed something, and a second later, he knew what it was.

Sensuality, luxuriant and potent, and a perfume a woman might wear.

The cause of the silent warning identified, he dropped his hand but put his finger to his lips. Nodding, Mahiya held her silence as he reached out to part a doorway of vines . . . to reveal a room as disparate from the others as a ruby was from a hunk of rock. Here, the marble had been cleaned with scrupulous care, until in spite of the permanent staining, the walls gleamed.

Light came in through a skylight devoid of glass and half covered by vines. Rain would easily penetrate the green barrier, but there was little threat of it this time of year. Certainly, whoever had set up this room was unworried about potential water damage to the rich indigo carpet that lined the floor or the cushions of gold-shot silk scattered over the bed in the center.

A small vanity stood against another wall, hairpins and jewels scattered across the surface. In front of it was a stool on which a woman might sit as she readied herself. “No vampire could’ve brought this in.” Not with the single road up the mountain buried under a landslide old enough to have scraggly trees hugging its jagged slope.

“Jason.”

Turning at the shaken whisper, he saw Mahiya’s reflection in the mirror above the vanity, her fingers clutching at something.

An envelope.

Written on it was a single word: Daughter

* * *

Mahiya knew Jason had been right to insist they fly to a safer location before she opened the letter, but by the time they landed in a remote field dotted with a scarcity of trees and surrounded by nothing but balls of dusty foliage rolling across the endless vista, she felt as if her skin would split.

Then they were there and it was time. Back against a spindly tree that nonetheless provided shimmering gray shade, she stared at the red seal of the letter, while the black-winged angel who was no longer her enemy stood a dark sentinel. He said nothing, giving her the time to find her courage, break the seal.

My dearest Mahiya Geet,

I had faith you would find this. You and your dangerous black shadow. I thought to kill him for you at first—

Mahiya swallowed a cry, thrusting her knuckles against her mouth.

—but I realized upon further reflection that he is the only thing standing between you and Neha. And it is deliberate. So, then I must tell you I approve. You have made a better choice than I.

Her heart clenched at the pain inherent in that simple confession.

I am sorry I cannot be here to greet you, my beloved child. But this part is done. It was a test of my strength and skill. A warning, too, but we both know Neha is far too arrogant to listen, to understand.

This place is for you—stay here, be safe. Your spymaster will protect you. If he needs must return to Neha, be assured I will make certain he comes back to you unharmed after the real game is played and won. You cannot be in the court at that time. Neha will slit your throat and rip your beating heart from your chest, if only to wound me.

Your residence in this place will not be for long. Soon I will hold you as a mother should hold her child, while Neha bleeds heart’s blood and her people scrabble in panic and terror. I have had three hundred years to plan my vengeance.

Nivriti

34

Trembling, Mahiya walked to lean her face against Jason’s back, his wings strong and sleek and paradoxically soft on either side of her. “I don’t know what to think.” She passed him the letter without shifting from her position tucked against his back. He didn’t force her to move, didn’t attempt to turn and take her into his arms—as if he understood she just needed to lean on his strength a little until the world stopped spinning.

“There is a sense of damp to the letter,” Jason said after scanning the lines. “But the wax carries a faint impression of her scent still, as did the room.”

Her mother hadn’t been gone long enough to be erased from the palace. “I think her pride is such that it wouldn’t allow her to do what was done to the snakes.” But she had no doubt Nivriti had known of the needless cruelty. “She must’ve departed the lake palace after killing Arav, left some of her people behind to cause further disorder.”

Jason returned his gaze to the letter. “She cannot plan a martial attack—regardless of how long she’s had to plan, Neha is an archangel with a garrison at her command.”