The angel smiled, and it was startling to see such open, kind welcome on a face that could’ve been a duplicate of Lijuan’s but for the color of Suyin’s eyes and the beauty spot. “And who are you, youngling?”
Andromeda supposed she was young in comparison to an angel many thousands of years old. “Andromeda,” she said. “A scholar.”
“Ah.” Returning her eyes to her sketchpad, Suyin motioned her head toward the opposite sofa. “Sit, Andromeda,” she said in the same aged dialect she’d used earlier. “Tell me what you do here.”
Andromeda saw no reason to lie.
Pencil motionless on her sketchpad, Suyin looked at her with sad eyes once she was done. “My aunt will not allow you to leave.”
“I know.” It was no longer Lijuan she saw when she looked at Suyin. The other woman’s own spirit was too bright and too gentle both. “Have you been imprisoned here all this time?” It must’ve felt like living death to an angel who, according to the histories Andromeda had read, had loved to fly the world.
“I was given the choice to Sleep or to die. And in this, I was . . . lucky, for others who helped build this citadel and thus knew its secrets, were all executed.” Sorrow in every part of her as she flipped a page and began to sketch again. “I chose to Sleep, but I wake every few hundred years to see if this prison I built has fallen and I can fly to freedom.” The quiet horror of her pain made Andromeda’s eyes sting. “Yet each time I wake, my aunt is more powerful, more a nightmare.”
Andromeda wanted to trust this woman who appeared to be a fellow captive, but she couldn’t. Not so quickly. Yet she risked asking, “Did you ever try to escape?”
Setting aside her sketchpad, Suyin rose to her feet and turned. Andromeda cried out, one trembling hand rising to her mouth. Suyin was missing most of the lower half of one wing, the exposed muscle and tendon of the bottom edge hot and red.
“I tried to escape the first time I woke,” Suyin said after sitting back down, the faint breathlessness in her voice the only indication of what must be agonizing pain.
She nodded to the crossed swords mounted on the wall behind Andromeda. “The blades used to clip my wings each time I wake.”
Andromeda couldn’t imagine the endless horror. “How are you sane?” she whispered.
“I do not know myself.” Suyin’s fine-boned hand moved over the paper in confident strokes. “Perhaps because I was old enough before my imprisonment that I understand time passes like an inexorable river, bringing change with it.”
Wise, sad eyes met Andromeda’s once more and for an instant, her skin prickled with a dizzying sense of déjà vu. As if she was facing Lijuan again, only this Lijuan was who the archangel should have become.
“I have heard whispers of a change called the Cascade,” Suyin said. “Is this true?”
There was no reason to hide the knowledge. “It’s said to be a time when the archangels grow so viciously in power that the consequences could shatter the foundations of the world.”
And the archangels were not who they should be, and bodies rotted in the streets and blood rained from the skies as empires burned.
Nothing could ever soften the grim impact of those words, the first specific mention of a previous Cascade that Jessamy had discovered in the Archives. “A small number of ordinary angels have also been affected.”
Illium was the most dramatic example. All the older immortals had begun to notice the violent acceleration of the blue-winged angel’s development. There were rumors that he might break away from Raphael’s Seven and seek to rule a territory, but those who believed that had forgotten Dmitri. The vampire was one of the most powerful in the world and he chose to be Raphael’s second.
“If the world is on the brink of catastrophic change,” Suyin said softly, “then, perhaps the next time I wake I will be free . . . and the world will be a ruin. One nightmare to another.”
Naasir ran under the moon after his latest truck ran out of fuel, his skin covered by a fine layer of sweat and his muscles straining, but he was still too far from Lijuan’s citadel. Be smart, he thought to Andromeda. Be sneaky. I’m coming.
12
Andromeda woke knowing there was only one feasible course of action.
Bathing, she braided her hair while it was still wet. It was the only way to control it since she didn’t have access to the modern tools that had made life so much easier of late. Before that, she’d simply made it a habit to wear her hair in a tight bun. Jessamy had commented on the hairstyle that didn’t suit her youth, but Andromeda had shrugged and said it was convenient.
It was, but that wasn’t why she did it.
Clean and fresh, she put on a robe and ate from the tray that had been brought in soon after she woke, then dressed in the clothes that had been delivered with the food: another cheongsam-style tunic, this one in a deep, intense pink with black accents, and black pants that hugged her legs. Lovely, but the cut of the pieces made it impossible for her to secrete her blades on her body.
Feeling naked without them, but aware she couldn’t risk betraying her one small advantage, she hid the blades deep under the mattress, slid her feet into the black silk slippers that had come with the outfit, and opened the bedroom door. Her waiting escort was a female vampire this time, the other woman’s skin creamy as fresh milk and her cheekbones wide and flat below eyes of dark hazel, her uniform the familiar formal black worn by the citadel’s household attendants.
The trip to the throne room passed in silence.
On arrival, Andromeda discovered Lijuan speaking to Xi. She walked to the edge of the steps and waited politely for the two to finish. With an archangel as traditional as Lijuan, simple good manners might be enough to save her life at some point. No need to waste that chance when it cost her nothing.
It wasn’t till a minute later that Lijuan looked at her, her face normal enough for the moment, though anger had darkened her expression. “Before you tell me your decision, scholar, I have a small matter with which I must deal.”
Relieved at the reprieve, Andromeda stepped aside and away from the throne. An angel with wings of dirty cream was dragged into the room soon afterward. Dressed in the colorful silks of the courtiers, his broad face was pale, his brown eyes beseeching. “My Lady.” Tears ran down his cheeks, his breath hiccupping. “I meant no betrayal.”
“Yet you were feeding Michaela information about my court.” Ice hung off each word.
Andromeda’s chest squeezed at what was surely to come.
Prostrating himself at the foot of the stairs, the angel sobbed. “I was seduced by her beauty, my Lady. I was weak and she took advantage.”
“You are a fool.” Lijuan was pure regal goddess in that moment. “But I will be merciful because Michaela has a way of bewitching men. You will be permitted to live.”
The angel began to blubber his thanks, but Andromeda, her gut twisting, knew he was speaking too soon. She’d seen the wooden frame that had been brought out of the shadows behind him. Two minutes later, the wild-eyed courtier was manacled to that frame in a spread-eagle position. He was still wearing his clothes, but they were slowly, methodically cut off him by the blond guard until he was totally naked.
Then the frame was turned horizontal by four guards, one on each corner, leaving the angel being punished facing the floor.
“Come,” Xi said to Andromeda as the guards began to move the frame out of the throne room. “My lady believes you may find this edifying.”
Bile burning her throat, Andromeda walked out with Lijuan’s favored general. The guards took the frame to the courtyard and placed it on four posts that seemed to have been erected in the center of the open space for exactly this purpose. The angel now faced the cobblestones, held up about a foot from it, his spread-eagled body exposed to the air and to the pitying gaze of others.