Archangel's War (Guild Hunter #12) - Nalini Singh Page 0,101
Illium was a child, other times acknowledging the man he’d become. Today, despite her use of the word baby, she seemed very aware that she was talking to two grown men.
Aodhan’s smile was a thing that stopped Elena’s heart. “You must believe me, Eh-ma, I was the instigator three times out of ten, but no one ever thought to point the finger at me.”
When Elena glanced questioningly at Illium while the Hummingbird laughed, he said, “It means ‘second mother’ or ‘mother who is my friend’s mother but also mine.’ It is more than respect. It is affection and love.” His eyes shone wet for a second before he blinked the moisture away. “The years he spent isolating himself, she was the only one permitted to visit him whenever she wished. They’d paint together for hours.”
“I can believe it.” Love glowed in the moment framed in front of her. “Do you have the same relationship with his parents?”
Illium shook his head. “They aren’t as old as my mother, but they always felt older. Kind and loving, but sedate. Not the type to go out at midnight with two little boys and watch a winged race through the Refuge, or to teach them how to dance to the beat of a bass drum.”
The Hummingbird moved from Aodhan to Elena. “And you have come, too, my Raphael’s love.” A voice so warm it twined itself around Elena like a hug. “Is he well?”
“Yes, Lady Sharine,” she said, using the name Illium’s mother had given her on their first meeting. “He thinks of you often.”
The Hummingbird kissed Elena on the cheek—because Elena, too, had bent her head to make it easier for the diminutive angel to reach her. Her scent was soft and warm and it caused Elena’s eyes to go all hot. Marguerite had preferred gardenias, but below that had been the same unconditional love.
“I will come again to your city of metal and glass and noise and color.”
Stepping back, the Hummingbird took them all in with an acute eye. This was definitely not the angel Elena had first met in New York. This Sharine was anchored to the world and confident in her strength. That she showed her strength gently made no difference.
“Now, my children,” she said in a tone that was the epitome of steel encased in velvet, “tell me why you are here.”
Bones hard against skin, Illium said, “Mother, the Cascade is waking Sleepers before their time.”
The Hummingbird’s face became a living monument, unmoving and unreadable.
Stepping closer, his wings agitated, Illium said, “Father is awake.”
Silence reined. The desert seemed to go still in its whispering roll. The bright, active sounds of the people in the streets disappeared. The angelic warriors who’d been running a training exercise in the distance faded from view.
Only Illium and the Hummingbird existed, their pain a tableau.
Panic scrabbled inside Elena, and when she caught Aodhan’s gaze, she saw the same dread in him. Fault lines already existed inside the Hummingbird. If this blow shattered them open again, it’d break her—and destroy Illium. His anger would eat him from the inside out, killing the heart of their wild Bluebell.
Then something extraordinary happened.
The Hummingbird drew up her shoulders, pinned her son with an unblinking gaze, and said, “This is why that poor squadron leader has been pretending to be so heartbroken he can’t function for most of a day?” She did not sound impressed. In fact, she sounded like a mom who expected them to explain themselves. Right now.
“Er.” Elena had never seen Illium so without words. Reaching back, he scratched at his nape. “I wanted to be here,” he said at last.
A softening in his mother’s expression. “Always watching after me, my son strong and beautiful. When I should be the one looking after you.” Her hand on his cheek again, so gentle. “Will you forgive me this, Illium?”
“There is nothing to forgive.” He turned into the touch of her hand, a son who loved his mother.
“There is much, but we will talk of that later. For now, Elena will teach me how to throw knives.”
It was Elena’s turn to be struck mute. “My lady Sharine?” she finally managed.
“I am not mad.” She shook out her skirts, her voice as haunting and beautiful as ever. “I wish to learn to throw knives so I can sink those knives into Aegaeon’s worthless chest should he dare show his face here.”
Illium’s jaw dropped. Aodhan appeared to have lost the ability to speak.