Chapter 77
Phoenix Zakriel, you are now part of the Courier Corps of this court. Present yourself to the Courier Marshal seven days hence.
—Priority Notice
Elena had come to learn that time passed at the speed of light when it came to watching your child grow. She’d had one hundred years with Nix, one hundred. It was far more than any mortal mother…and yet…
She kissed her strapping son on both cheeks, then snuggled him tight to her for a hug. He groaned even though he was as tall as his father and as broad across the shoulders. “You’ll squash me, Ma!”
“It’s my right as your mother.” She finally made herself let go—but then he was the one to grab her, crush her close.
Love you, Mama. He was a new oak and fresh green leaves on an ocean wave in her mind, but with a clear hint of steel in the background. “I’ll miss getting beat up by you,” he murmured aloud before releasing her and turning to Raphael.
The clasp of warriors, followed by a fierce embrace from father to son—and vice versa.
“You will do well, Phin,” Raphael said, and it was neither order nor question.
Just fact. Because Phoenix Zakriel had long ago shown them who he was—and that was a being of honor and courage of whom they would ever be proud.
Oh, he hadn’t been perfect—and neither Elena nor Raphael had expected such from him.
He came from two strong parents, had an equally strong personality of his own.
But even at his youthful worst, he’d never been cruel or unkind, ever the heart of his tight-knit cohort, the one the others came to, to sort out disagreements.
Our baby grew up, Archangel.
And grew up well, Elena-mine. He looks like a warrior already.
Yes.
Nix’s hair was cut in short, crisp lines.
He wore dark gray flight leathers that had been a gift from Caliane, while on his back rested the journeyman sword that Raphael and Elena had commissioned from Zoe—who’d also gifted Nix a set of her finest throwing blades, which he wore strapped to his forearms and thighs.
From Jean-Baptiste and Majda had come his boots and socks, the latter handcrafted by his great-grandmother.
Eve had provided the slimline pack that hugged his spine between his wings, while the food within had been prepared by Sivya’s and Montgomery’s loving hands. The couple had already said their goodbyes to him earlier, their eyes shining wet.
Greta and Dmitri had made certain the comm device tucked in Nix’s pack was the highest spec available, while Galen had quizzed him on his knowledge of the sky roads until Nix could recite them in his sleep. And that was just a limited list of all those who’d had a hand in the making of him.
Tower, Enclave, and Refuge, everyone would miss their boy.
Nix, however, was ready to go, his eyes bright with excitement, and his skin an even darker gold than usual.
He’d spent days in the summer sun in Titus’s territory as he underwent—and passed—the final training sessions that qualified him as a warrior with the skill to serve in a wing—though his official title would be courier for the time being.
It was considered an integral placement for strong young angels, helping to develop both their flight endurance and their ability to navigate the globe using only their own memories of crisscrossing sky roads.
It also gave them the opportunity to make connections across the world.
In Nix’s case, he was particularly excited to pass through the Refuge multiple times a year, some of which would no doubt be overnights.
It’d give him the chance to drop in on Bengal’s clan.
After their irrepressible Tigress had come two more beloved not-housecats from the same clan, but even now that there was no one in the clan who wanted to leave the mountains, they welcomed Nix as the boy of whom their legendary ancestor, Bengal, had told stories.
A boy who was ready to take flight into his future.
“I’ll do you proud,” he promised as he stepped backward off the roof…to drop precipitously before rising with a shout of excitement and zeroing out toward the water—though he did turn back twice and wave at them.
“Our chick is flying the nest.” Elena exhaled on an intermingled wave of pride, worry, and excitement as she watched their son leave New York.
“I was a courier at that age, too,” Raphael murmured. “Yet I look at him and wonder what anyone was thinking to have me gallivanting off to parts unknown.”
Laughing, she took his hand. “You certainly didn’t let that show.”
His cheeks creased. “A father must encourage his son. And…he’s ready.”
Elena nodded. “Yes.” It was Aodhan who’d told them that Nix’s determination reminded him of Illium’s—neither had to be pushed; they pushed themselves. “Martial and organized as it is, I think Alexander’s court will suit him.”
Because that was to be their boy’s new home for the foreseeable future. Nix had earned the spot with his skill and determination. He’d also deliberately applied to a court that wasn’t “family” in any sense.
“Archangel Alexander won’t cut me any slack,” he’d said. “Not even by accident. Just like Archangel Suyin won’t for Anise.”
Raphael had agreed with their son’s decision. “Too many people would say he’d had an easy road of it otherwise.”
That would’ve been a deeply unfair accusation—even Nix’s own friends considered him the best of their group when it came to aerial combat, though Aanisa had him beat on strategy.
Now, he flew alone into the adventures to come.
The Legion, who’d risen up into the air to watch him leave, having already spent time with him in their forest earlier today, spoke into their minds: Aeclari?
Yes, we are sure. Do not follow. Raphael spoke for both of them. It’s time for him to find his own wings.
The Legion didn’t argue, but none of them moved until he was long out of sight.
“My heart’s tight and happy at the same time.” Elena rubbed a fist over the organ. “I’m so proud of him—”
“—and terrified at the same time,” Raphael completed.
She sighed, her eyes still on the horizon. “Yeah.” Leaning her head against his biceps, their fingers yet entwined, she said, “He’s a strong, happy, talented man.” Not a boy any longer, except in her heart.
“We must trust him to find his way.” Raphael squeezed her hand. “Already, he is beloved of his cohort. Should all the whispers turn to truth, should our son one day ascend, he will do so surrounded by friends who are blood loyal.”
Elena exhaled slowly, and the knot in her chest eased up a fraction. But she also understood at that moment that a piece of that ache would live forever inside her, a testament to her love for their boy.
“I can’t wait to see what he does with his life,” she said with a smile.
“In that we are—as always—one, hbeebti.” It was his turn to exhale. “We raised him without the shadow of blood and madness. He did not come of age in the crucible of pain and fear.”
Elena swallowed hard. “Yes.” She turned to face eyes of Prussian blue—of the archangel who had walked with her through time. “We did good, Raphael. We gave our son the childhood every child should have. He’s never known a day without love.
“He’s resilient and adaptable and he has an internal discipline that’ll take him far.
” At the start, they’d worried that he wouldn’t understand evil and treachery when he was surrounded by honor and heart, but it turned out that when you raised a child with a deep understanding of history—both his familial history and the world’s—and encouraged him to ask questions, he grew into a man who was no one’s fool.
Phoenix Zakriel had learned from scholars and warriors.
He’d spent two years in India, another two in China, and on his return, he’d hugged Elena tight.
“I saw the memorials,” he’d said, his voice a rasp.
“All those children tortured and murdered, Mama. All because an archangel thought herself a goddess.”
His expression had been grim as he drew back.
“I spoke to angels and vampires who fought on the front lines, who had to do what no one should ever have to do.” His blue eyes wet, his anger a storm, their son who was a protector.
“I’ll do all in my power to be a force for good, to watch for such darkness in the shadows. ”
Later, he’d also spent six months with Gavriel in Australia, and come back even more thoughtful. “I didn’t think I’d have much contact with Archangel Michaela, but she spoke to me several times.
“She’s…interesting, isn’t she, Papa?” he’d said to Raphael. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so different from what the stories say about her. She’s direct about it, too, told me to never allow myself to be ruled by cruelty and vanity, no matter how such vices whisper to me.”
A young man’s shrug. “Anise says Archangel Michaela made it a point to talk to her, too, when she was stationed there. Gave her similar advice, but extra.” A mischievous grin. “Told her not to use her beauty to manipulate.”
Elena had known why he found that hilarious: Aanisa was strikingly lovely—she was also more apt to be found in combat leathers practicing battle strategy, or in battered safety gear suitable for her work with metal sculpture, than in anything designed to beguile.
Still, Elena and Raphael appreciated what Michaela was doing, how she was trying to pass on her own hard-won knowledge of life and maturity.
Especially when she’d maintained it all these years—there was a reason Gavriel had requested a permanent transfer to her territory, and that he was now open about their relationship.
Their Nix had also spent countless seasons at Illium’s Spire, and had formed a most unexpected friendship: that with Laric, Illium’s chief healer.
“He is so young,” Laric had said to Elena, “but even so, I see in him a lion’s heart.
For now, I will be his wise elder of a friend, but in time, as he ages, I do believe we will equalize, until he’ll be the one giving me advice. ”
A fading of his smile. “He asked me if I knew anything about the Luminata, on whom he read a historical paper as part of his studies. Nix knows only that I once had some vague connection to Lumia. Shall I tell him the truth? I’m not averse to talking about it.”
“Yes—if you’re certain you don’t mind,” Elena had said. “When he was a child, we had to shield him. Now, as he grows into a man, we have to give him the tools and weapons he needs. Especially in knowledge.”
So yes, their boy raised in love understood the dark and would always choose to stand against it.
Raphael’s eyes were raw with emotion as he pressed his forehead to hers today, the sun burning golden fire off his wings.
“We did good,” he repeated roughly. “Our boy with his mortal heart—what did Keir say we were?” A curving of his lips.
“Ah yes, a gift of generational irritation. I don’t think the world is quite ready for what we’ve unleashed on them. ”
Elena’s laugh was a little wet. “I hope he confounds, surprises, and delights everyone—and lives a life wild and extraordinary.”
“How could he not, hbeebti? With such a fearless hunter for a mother.” His kiss was wildfire in her veins, his wings a magnificent unfurling. “Will you fly with me, Elena-mine?” he murmured against her lips, breath to breath.
At home in his arms, Elena unfurled her own wings. “Always, Archangel. Into eternity and beyond.”