“And, I suppose,” Suyin replied, “I do not need a huge court when my territory is so very small.”
He knew exactly what she meant—though China was a sprawling territory if measured by landmass, its population had been decimated by the choices of its former archangel. It would take Suyin centuries upon centuries to build it back up to anything near the powerhouse it had once been.
At some point in the far future, the other archangels would get over their Lijuan-induced skittishness and begin to look at this land with covetous eyes. Whether Suyin chose to fight to hold on to it, or accede to their demands in favor of ruling a more compact territory, it’d be a choice made on a strong foundation.
“Walk with me,” the archangel said, and he and Aodhan fell into step on either side of her, all of them keeping a polite distance so their wings didn’t brush.
Illium found himself surprised by Aodhan’s formal deference. After so long working at Suyin’s side, he’d expected more casual intimacy between the two. But that, of course, was none of his business.
Jaw set, he stared straight ahead at this strange garden that bloomed in the heart of winter. It made him remember what Ellie had told him about the red roses that had bloomed in the snow in Imani’s garden. Those blooms had augured a time of death and blood and war. He hoped this garden was nothing but a small strangeness.
It was after they passed a tree blooming with trumpet-shaped yellow flowers that had dusted the path in sunny pollen that Suyin spoke again. “I’ve decided to begin the rebuild—physically speaking.”
A glance at Aodhan. “I know we have spoken of priorities many times, but I see now that I cannot move forward if I am always in Lijuan’s shadow. I must make China Suyin’s land rather than hers. And for that, I first need a citadel of my own choosing, with nothing of her in it.”
Aodhan inclined his head in that way he had of doing, his face calm and his expression difficult to read. “I understand. Illium and I are at your service.”
Illium, too, had no argument with Suyin’s decision. Even setting aside her madness of the recent past, Lijuan had ruled this land for millennia, stamped every part of it with her mark. “Where are you thinking of building your citadel?”
“Ah, I made that decision some time ago.” Suyin’s face softened. “I will build on the coast, far from the places preferred by my aunt. A new start to a new reign. Also a place I can hold in battle when it comes in the future, for it will. No member of the Cadre can look at this empty land and not covet it.”
Illium wasn’t so sure about that; Raphael had never been land-hungry. It was part of the reason he and Elijah got along so well, their border having held since Raphael’s ascension. Not many people remembered that Eli had actually governed Raphael’s territory while the Cadre had been short an archangel.
When Raphael ascended, Elijah had given up that land without a fight, for he’d much rather rule well in a smaller sphere than spread himself thin. Raphael thought the same way.
Suyin stopped beneath a tree whose leaves were a deep ruby with fine veins of pink, the perfect foil for her coloring. You should paint her this way, he found himself saying to Aodhan.
I’m already making the mental brushstrokes.
“I will gather my people and head to the coast tomorrow.”
Illium sucked in a breath at Suyin’s pronouncement. “So soon?”
“Ah, Bluebell”—a soft smile as she used the nickname by which his friends so often called him—“none of us have settled here. Today, as I walked among my people, I saw most hadn’t even unpacked their meager belongings.”
The wind blew back her hair, revealing even more of the flawless lines of her face. “As soon as we unearthed the nexus, I knew I’d been wrong to believe this place had escaped my aunt’s malevolent shadow—but though we kept the knowledge of the nexus from the mortals, they feel the lingering whisper of her evil.”
A cloud of quiet sorrow over her bones. “They will die here,” she murmured. “If I make them spend the winter in this place, I will wake in spring to a graveyard of lost souls.”
She shook her head, steel cutting through the sorrow when she next spoke. “I refuse to permit Lijuan to reach out from beyond death to snatch victory. It may not be the best time to move, but move we will.
“We depart this place on the dawn to come, even if we have to leave behind a few objects and possessions. Who will steal them? We’ll store them in the stronghold, lock it up against any curious animals, and I’ll send a team back in the spring to do a retrieval.”
“It should go smoothly,” Aodhan said into the quiet after her words. “It’s not only the mortals who haven’t truly unpacked. We all knew this was only a temporary sojourn. No one has put down solid roots.”
“Good.” Suyin stopped, shifted so she faced the two of them, her face smooth and as hard to read as Aodhan’s. Perhaps it was a mechanism of endurance, of protection—she had, after all, survived an eon in captivity.
As Aodhan had survived.
Illium’s gut tensed, his rage as scalding and acidic today as it had been on that awful day when he’d learned what had happened to Aodhan, what had been done to him.
“We’ll begin the journey to the coast without either of you.” Suyin’s words demanded all his attention. “I have another task for you.” Hands on her hips and gaze attentive, she was the epitome of a warrior at that instant. “Vetra has come across something strange in her most recent survey of the territory.”
Vetra, Illium knew, was Suyin’s spymaster. She’d been junior to Titus’s spymaster, and had moved courts with the blessing of her archangel. She’d never have progressed any further with Titus, since his spymaster was brilliant and long established in her position.
“Another surprise?” Aodhan’s voice held a thread of the intimacy Illium had expected—the kind that formed between people who’d been fighting side by side for an extended period.
An ugly heat twisted his gut.
He clamped down on it. Hard.
His mother had given him good advice more than once in his life. But the piece that applied here was that he must not be jealous of Aodhan’s growth—even if that growth took him away from Illium.
“What if he decides that the man he’s becoming wants nothing to do with me?” he’d asked, his heart raw with the pain of it.
“Then you’ll let him go.” Love in every word, her fist held against her heart. “Freedom and love are entwined. And you, my blue-winged boy, you love more deeply than anyone I’ve ever known.”
Suyin’s voice broke into the echo of memory. “It may be nothing,” she said in response to Aodhan, her eyes holding his in that secure, unforced intimacy that made Illium’s gut churn. “But given how many secrets my aunt kept, I can’t do anything but examine everything with a critical eye.”