is in the information they send back, not in taking physical action.”
“Good man.” Titus clapped the other man on the shoulder, careful of his strength. Njal was far stronger than his slender frame might lead an opponent to believe, his muscles ropey under the flawless night of his skin, but he was still human to Titus’s archangel.
“If your northern hunters run across other mortals, ask them to be polite and share that I’ve tasked them to assist in hunting reborn,” Titus added. “It’ll help spread calm on that side of the border. Charisemnon left his people in fear of me.”
A piercing look out of eyes that reminded Titus of a lion’s. “All archangels create fear in mortals. I’ve fought at your side, Archangel, but should your wings begin to glow, I’d sure as hell know terror.”
“Yes, but some fear is healthy—and some fear is crippling.” Titus didn’t wish for a cowed, quivering populace. He wished for one that respected his rule while continuing to grow and thrive.
“Understood,” Njal said. “I’ll make sure they know that, on this task, they’re also ambassadors of your reign.”
Taking off after a nod, Titus was aware of the Guild leader already turning on his heel to head inside, and knew Njal would dispatch the first teams within the hour. The man led the Guild partially because he was so ordered and practical. It was also why Tzadiq and Njal had been known to have a drink or three on occasion.
If Titus would miss Njal when he was gone, Tzadiq would deeply mourn him.
“Why do you maintain this friendship when you know it’ll cause you nothing but pain in the end?” Titus had asked before he, too, began to know Njal as more than the leader of the Guild.
Square-jawed face not prone to heavy emotions, Tzadiq had quietly said, “The same reason my son’s mate plants flowers even though their death is inevitable. Njal’s heart, his mind, they’re no less valuable for existing only for a moment in time.”
Titus had thought that way as a youth, but the pain upon pain of losing mortal friends had jaded that part of him. This war, however, had shattered the jaded distance, and though he remained wary, it’d become impossible not to see mortals as individuals once more.
Sire. The mental touch was strong, for Tanae had one of the biggest mental voices in his court.
Tanae, I’m in the air heading toward the citadel. Though he had the intention to keep going past it. Do you need me to land?
No—but I have good news. Her mental voice held a jubilant tone that had him worried for her; she was a brilliant trainer, but jubilation wasn’t in her wheelhouse. Seven relief squadrons have just flown over the border, courtesy of Archangel Alexander. They’ve quashed the vampire uprising on their side and thus have the capacity to assist us.
Titus was caught between a burst of joy and a frown; much as the assistance was needed and would help him rest his troops, protocol was for Alexander to speak to him directly about it first. And why had his people just let those squadrons pass instead of halting them at the bord—Oh, dear unseen Ancestors.
He rubbed his face. Who is commanding the squadrons?
Zuri and Nala are in joint command. Xander is part of one of the squadrons.
His sisters—and Alexander’s treasured grandson, both such clear indicators of friendship that it was no wonder they’d been waved across the border. Of course, Alexander was also probably having a good laugh at sending the twins to haunt him. He scowled. How distant are they?
They can arrive within three days if you wish, but Zuri has asked if you want them to clear reborn as they move; they’re well provisioned to do so.
He found himself smiling at the thought of his sister’s fierce countenance and equally fierce love, despite the sure aggravation to come. Yes. The north has an infestation—smaller than ours, but deadly all the same. But tell her to send three squadrons forward so we can use them to rest our own troops on this side.
Understood.
As Tanae dropped off, Titus allowed himself a deep breath and exhale. Seven extra elite squadrons—because his sisters would command nothing less—could well turn the tide in their favor.
Almost to his citadel by now, the sunshine liquid gold around him, he reached for another mind. Are you still at that bastard’s stronghold?
Yes, said a voice as strong as Tanae’s, though of a different timbre and resonance.
Titus overflew his citadel, kept