It was strong . . . but young. Even so, the golden light bonded with Raphael’s cells in a way that said it was making him stronger on a permanent level. As if another brace had been added to the foundation of his power.
Not just an increase in strength. Evolution that took seconds rather than eons.
Gasping in air, Illium swayed but Aodhan kept him upright as Raphael continued to do the impossible and absorb the power of another archangel. Only Illium wasn’t Cadre. When two members of the Cadre stood next to one another, there was a faint repulsion effect, as if they were not meant to be so close. It was mild enough to ignore for short periods, but it was always present.
Raphael felt nothing akin to that with Illium.
“Yes,” he heard Elena say behind him just as he drained the last drop of the new energy from Illium. “I think it worked.” A pause. “Yes, I will.” Hanging up, she said, “Let’s get him inside.”
Between Raphael and Aodhan, they managed to get Illium into the office off the balcony—which happened to be Honor’s—and shut the door. Elena pushed the button that opaqued the windows and it was only then that Illium collapsed into the nearest chair, his wings spread out on either side. “What happened?” he said, his entire body shaking.
When Aodhan crouched in front of him and pushed back Illium’s dripping hair, the blue-winged angel shuddered and leaned into the caress. It took time for him to stop trembling, and when he did, it was to raise his head to meet Raphael’s gaze. “Sire, I am no archangel.”
“No,” Raphael agreed. “You might be one day, but your body and mind can’t handle the power at this age.” And with it living in Raphael now, Illium showed no signs of an ascension.
Having found a bottle of cold water, Elena gave it to her beloved Bluebell and, perching on the arm of his chair, gently patted his back, her fingertips brushing Illium’s wings.
“Did my mother say anything else?” Raphael asked her.
The gray of Elena’s eyes was dark, the ring of silver vivid. “She wants you to call.”
Not waiting in case Illium began to glow with power again, Raphael used his consort’s phone to make the call, putting it on speaker so all of them could hear what Caliane had to say. He expected to get the technician who monitored the communications system he’d had Illium organize for Amanat, but it was Caliane’s face that filled the tiny screen.
“Son,” she said, her expression drawn. “Is your city still standing?”
“Yes.” Her worried question made him understand the staggering truth: if he hadn’t been there to stop Illium’s premature ascension, the young angel’s death would’ve resulted in a catastrophic shock wave. “Have you seen this before, Mother?”
“Yes, in a Cascade at the very dawn of my existence. Before I was an archangel.”
Raphael couldn’t imagine that time—his mother had been a power his entire lifetime. “What happened?”
“An angel who was the commander of an archangel, ascended without warning. He was only seven hundred and his body could not hold the power.” Sorrow in her at the loss of that long-ago angel. “He died in a thunderous fury and he took over twenty thousand people with him.”
Blowing out a harsh breath, Illium rose to his feet. He was shaky but managed to make his way to Raphael’s side to face Caliane. “Lady,” he said, giving a deep bow. “You saved my life. I thank you.”
Caliane inclined her head as Raphael grabbed Illium before he would’ve toppled backward as he straightened from the bow. “Sit, child,” Raphael’s mother ordered. “You are damaged.”
Illium didn’t argue.
“Damaged?” Elena’s tone was sharp. “Is it something we need to worry about?”