Chapter 76
Have we become?
No, we are still becoming.
Perhaps this is existence? A becoming through eternity?
We…like this. We…like becoming.
—The Legion
Elena laughed at the tiny forms of children waving at her from one of the habitat schools. She couldn’t hear them, but knew the shape of her name on their lips. Since she had the time, she dipped into the habitat and over to land on the field on which they’d been playing before they’d spotted her.
The babies swarmed her, all of them eager to tell her their news and to pat her wings with soft, gentle hands.
Crouching down, she hugged and kissed them in turn, listened to a hundred breathless stories one on top of the other, and solemnly promised to attend their upcoming talent show.
Viale, she said to the sweet young maiden born in Amanat who had long ago become her aide, will you please insert this into my schedule? She sent through the date and time.
Shall I make it a priority, Ellie?
Yes. Now, nothing but a critical emergency would override her promise.
“Come along, children,” a voice called out. “It’s time for your art lesson!” A clap of hands as the principal walked closer.
The children waved bye to Elena, but lingered till the last minute before running inside.
Their principal, his skin a dark gold wrinkled with time and experience, smiled at her with the ease of family.
“Ellie,” he said, drawing her into a hug.
“You spoil them, you know. They tell their families that they’re friends with the consort. ”
Elena laughed. “As they should. I’ll be there for your talent show, so make room for a pair of wings.”
His eyes sparkled when he smiled, as they had from the time he’d been a small babe Elena had held in her arms. “We always do—the Legion still drop by now and then. They seem fascinated by children.”
Elena had always thought it was because children were always growing, always becoming, and the Legion had been in the process of change since the day they first came back home. “Well then, maybe it’ll be more than one pair of wings.”
After saying goodbye to the man who’d once been a sweet little boy she’d helped up when he fell during rambunctious play, she said her goodbyes and rose up into the air of her city.
Her New York.
Changed but forever a place of color and energy—and vendors with sharp business skills. Like the coffee cart positioned in a prime spot for catching flyers crisscrossing the city.
He held up an empty cup in her direction in a silent question, but she shook her head and flew on to their home across the river.
That home had matured over time, until it was no longer the new build it had once been, but an aged and elegant structure swathed with plants but for the windows and the breathtaking skylight that remained as astonishing today as the day Aodhan had designed it for them.
He still inspected it himself every decade, and made the necessary repairs by hand.
“You’re a consort!” Illium had been known to call out. “Act with decorum!”
That always sent up a shout of laughter from them all—because a less decorous archangel no one could imagine, Illium forever their wild and playful Bluebell even as he settled into his power and his responsibilities.
The peace at his border with Aegaeon had held in the decades since the two had almost come to war, but there’d been no change in their relationship—she’d half expected Aegaeon to rage again, but whatever it was that Caliane had said to him, it seemed to have stuck.
“Let’s see how long he can behave,” Illium had muttered to her while eating miniature berries off an equally miniature plant she had in her greenhouse. “I might have a drink with him if he manages half a millennium without a temper tantrum.”
She spotted Montgomery along the outside of the house as she came in, his form as straight and crisp as always and his attention on a small pad on which he was making notes as he walked the perimeter.
Doing a repair audit, Elena thought.
He glanced in her direction as if he’d sensed her presence, smiled.
Landing a few feet from him, she said, “What’s the verdict? Any danger of it falling down around our ears?”
“Not just yet,” he said. “But I believe one of the vines is having some trouble. Do you have time to view it?”
“Yes, I came to indulge in some plant therapy.” When she glanced up, her attention caught by a subtle sweep of the air above her, it was to see two of the Legion coming to land on the roof—carefully away from the central skylight.
We’re doing plants, she told them, noticing that one of them had red hair.
That was a new change—so far, the Legion had only sported shades of black, brown, and blond.
The answer that came to her was without words but it held interest, and the two padded along the roof as Montgomery showed her the vine that seemed to be dying.
Frowning, Elena crouched down to examine the plant, which was five decades old by her reckoning; the Legion came down beside her to peer at it.
“Disease,” she murmured, spotting the telltale marks. “Treatable, I think. It hasn’t gone deep.” She glanced at her Legion companions. “Your thoughts?”
“Disease,” they murmured in sync, and in their voice was the agreement of hundreds. “We have a treatment.”
“Excellent.” That the Legion had turned out to be instinctive scientists when it came to plants was no surprise. “I think we should treat it without delay.”
“We are bringing what is needed,” was the reply, though neither moved. “We will treat it, Ellie.”
“Thank you.” Getting up, she looked at Montgomery—who, for all his many skills, was not a plant person. When Elena had to be away these days, it was the Legion who watched over her plants. Prior to their return, she’d left step-by-step instructions for Montgomery and hoped for the best.
None of her or Raphael’s inner circle or trusted domestic staff had the requisite skills, and they hadn’t wanted to hire a new person who’d be in and out of their home. A stance with which Montgomery was in firm agreement.
“I’ll be in the greenhouse for a bit,” she told the butler now. “Give me a shout if anything else comes up.”
“I will bring in a tray,” Montgomery said. “Sivya made your favorite pastries.” A glance toward the city. “Nix?”
“With my grandfather.” Who would no doubt feed the bottomless pit that was her and Raphael’s son. “But he’ll be home for dinner.”
When she walked toward the greenhouse a few minutes later, it was with the two Legion warriors in shadow. Others would come with the treatment for the vine, she knew, do what needed to be done. Because even as they grew into themselves, they remained one, remained Legion.
A few were trying out names, but they didn’t seem to get the concept or the point. That included the Primary. He understood what they called him as a designation, but the concept of a name seemed to mystify.
“We are Legion,” they’d say when asked their identity. “We are one.”
“That dark red suits you,” she said as they entered the humid warmth of the greenhouse.
The redhead touched his hair. “I…like it,” he said at last, and Elena noticed his eyes had a hint of green to them. “I copied it from Galen.” It seemed a confession.
Elena fought back a grin. “I’m sure he’ll be flattered.” More than likely, he’d be dumbfounded, but then shrug it off. That was their Barbarian.
The other Legion warrior was already using a cleaning cloth to wipe the glass panels of the greenhouse from the inside.
Her greenhouse had sparkled from head to toe since their return.
At first, she’d thought they believed it a duty and had told them it was fine, that they didn’t need to take on the task—she was happy to maintain the greenhouse though it took her months to do each rotation, then start again.
The Legion had been confused. “But it is…fun,” they’d said. “You told us to have…fun.”
Clearly, they had different ideas of fun, but Elena left them to it from then on. As she did today.
She, meanwhile, went to her potting table, and started the process of transferring a set of newly sprouted seedlings into bigger pots.
The narrow black band of her wrist comm buzzed against her skin about forty minutes into it.
When she checked, the message that popped up into the air was from Ashwini: Drinks tonight?
Me, you, Honor, and Nisia, over at Moonlight on Habitat Five.
And possibly Greta if we agree to kidnap her. Nisia has drugs for said kidnapping.
No drugs needed, Elena replied. I’ll just tie her up and bring her along. Her friend was an immortal workaholic.
Planning your funeral now. xo
Oh ye of little faith. See you tonight.
The light caught on the small ring she wore on her pinky finger as she finished up the short conversation.
It had been a gift from Nix after he’d successfully earned his own money by working as a runner for a senior wing two seasons past. And she had the thought that this was a good life—loved by her mate and her son, and surrounded by family and friends in a city she had seen rise and fall, only to rise stronger and with more heart each time.
It was a gentle, beautiful thought.