Smile deep and wide, Naasir wove his fingers into hers and turned back to a grim-eyed Tarek. “I never called Osiris sire and I never would have even if Alexander hadn’t executed him.” Naasir’s loyalty was Raphael’s.
The sentinel stared at him. “Two hundred years ago, I ventured briefly to another part of the world and met a learned man. He told me there were rumors of a living legend, of a chimera with silver eyes who is not one but two, asked me if I knew the origins of it, for only Alexander and Osiris had eyes of true silver and both were gone from the world.”
“Such things are myth.” Naasir’s eyes laughed when Andromeda glared at him.
Lifting her hand to his mouth, he kissed her knuckles, then tipped her gaping mouth shut.
She pursed her lips. “I am not talking to you.” Turning to face the openly amused sentinel, she said, “If you don’t believe we’re here to oppose Lijuan, you should find out what’s happening at Rohan’s palace right now.”
The amusement disappeared. “Is that a threat?”
She held her ground. “I had to tell Lijuan something when she kidnapped me and asked for Alexander’s location. I tried to lead her away from this territory, but given the presence of that squadron, the distraction clearly didn’t take.”
“We got a warning to Rohan,” Naasir added. “He won’t have been caught unprepared.”
“Rohan can look after himself.” A confident statement from Tarek. “But even if you are here to oppose Lijuan, we can’t break our vow and that vow is to hold the line.”
“In that case,” Naasir said, “I’ll have to incapacitate you all.” He sounded like he was joking but Andromeda knew he was dead serious.
“Even the silver-eyed beast can’t take on the heart of the Wing Brotherhood.”
Of course. That’s where she’d seen the tattoo before. Usually on clean-shaven scalps.
Tarek must’ve seen her eyes flick to his hair because he said, “We all take the mark on our eighteenth birthday. Those who leave here shear their hair as a rite of passage, a reminder of the discipline and honor in which they have been forged.”
“Your people have gone far from your homeland.” The reclusive and deadly Wing Brotherhood worked on tasks for various individuals and groups, but always on a contract basis. Until now, no one had ever known from where they came—the guess had been that they belonged to an angel who preferred to stay in the shadows.
“Some of my younger brethren like to fly,” Tarek said. “We do not stop them. All return eventually, for this is home. Often, they bring mates who understand our ways, and who rejuvenate our bloodlines.”
“No one has spoken the secret in four hundred years?” Andromeda whispered. “How can that be?”
“Honor and loyalty and a crucible that does not forgive the weak of soul.” He rose. “You can either fight us or you can leave. We will escort you out.”
Naasir rose, hand linked to hers. “You need to think for today, not stand in the past.”
The leader of the Wing Brotherhood didn’t say anything, just put his hand on the butt of his crossbow. Polite, elegant skin suddenly on, Naasir glanced at Andromeda. “It appears we have worn out our welcome—and Alexander’s guard hasn’t fallen for my bluff.”
She shrugged. “We had to make the attempt.” Meeting Tarek’s gaze, she said, “If you won’t allow us to go to Alexander, then you must warn him yourself.”
An impassive face. “The Ancient Sleeps. No living being can enter his chamber and survive.”
“Not even Lijuan?”
No flicker in his expression. “She may style herself an Ancient, but she is no power in comparison to Alexander.”
“You haven’t seen her since the Cascade began,” Andromeda said, but knew she was wasting her breath—Alexander’s sentinel was too locked into the idea of what should be to see what was happening to the world today.