Archangel's Sun (Guild Hunter #13) - Nalini Singh Page 0,86
you were as old as Sharine—she said, “I go to Charisemnon’s court to search his laboratories and anywhere else he might’ve hidden information. We have evidence that he was working on an infection that could fatally injure angels.”
Kiama’s pupils flared, a burst of night against the intense and lovely brown. “I understand. Do we fly now?”
“Yes. Will we need supplies?”
“My squadron is stationed at the stronghold garrison—it’s fully stocked.”
With that, the two of them took off into the sky.
The journey wasn’t long. Given their enduring enmity, the two archangels appeared to have built their most heavily fortified fortresses across the border from each other—you couldn’t see one from the other, and neither was on the border itself, but it was a swift journey for winged beings.
As a result—and despite her long night—Sharine was in no way on the edge of exhaustion when they landed in the courtyard of Charisemnon’s former stronghold. Unlike with Titus’s citadel, this fortress, while sprawling, had no city around it. It sat in magnificent isolation in the green of the landscape.
Nature had begun its slow creep across the stone structure even in the short time since it had been abandoned. Vines spread across the roof and hung down from the eaves, and she could see that a bird had made its nest in the alcove formed by a turret window. Give it a little more time and this symbol of immortal power would be absorbed back into the landscape as if it had never existed.
Dried leaves crunched underfoot as they crossed the courtyard, and she spotted the slinking bodies of cats prowling about. From their sleek healthiness, either they were being fed—or they were making a feast of the vermin that soon infested any abandoned place.
Kiama had already arranged for one of her people to come in behind them and stand guard outside in the courtyard, just in case they needed quick assistance. “Is this a permanent post for you?” Sharine asked her, curious why Titus would sideline a warrior with such watchful eyes.
Yes, she had a faint limp, and it was obvious she’d lost weight recently, but that meant nothing to a trained fighter. Limp or not, Kiama still moved with deadly grace, and was no doubt a dervish in battle.
“No, we do one-week stretches. My squadron will then go back to fight alongside the sire while another squadron takes the chance to rest. Truly, Lady Sharine, I would’ve defied the sire himself had he tried to bury me at this post.” She indicated her leg. “As it is, a week will be just enough to recover from my injury—one of the reborn almost took off my leg.”
Sharine understood warrior pride well enough not to offer to help when Kiama went to the heavy metal doors of the stronghold. Even here, in this battle stronghold, the door wasn’t just practical—it was carved with scenes of battle, with Charisemnon in full glory. Dust fell off those carvings in a musty shower, the metal groaning as Kiama began to flip the levers to gain them access.
A curious cat, black as night, wandered over to watch as Kiama lifted the final lever. The door seemed to shake and sigh, more dust falling to coat Kiama’s hair.
Proof enough that no one had been here since Titus’s people shuttered it. It hadn’t been a long period of time in immortal terms, but this environment was unforgiving. And nature was no gentle mistress.
Kiama pushed open the left door, the painful screech of the heavy metal making the tiny hairs on Sharine’s arms quiver in warning.
The cat hissed and stalked off.
“Well,” she said, “should the reborn wish to make a dramatic entrance, now would be the time.”
Kiama, sword already in hand, spoke stiffly. “If you do not mind my impertinence, my lady, it’s too soon for such humor.”
Abashed, Sharine apologized at once, then admitted the truth. “I’m speaking out of turn because I feel a visceral fear though there is no need of it.”
Expression tight, Kiama nodded. “I helped clear this stronghold of any and all threats and I feel the same. Evil has seeped into the walls of this place. Darkness lives here.”
Such a simple, powerful statement that rang with emotion. “You saw some of it?” she asked gently.
“I was part of Charisemnon’s court two hundred years ago.” Turning her head, she spat on the external cobblestones. “It was a loyalty of my family, to serve the same archangel. My mother and my father both stayed loyal to Charisemnon even as