“A little stiff,” she said, stretching out her wings and wincing more than strictly required. “May I be permitted to do a low flight to ease my muscles?” It would give her an idea of the landscape at least.
Unfortunately, Xi was too smart to permit such a slip after keeping her blindfolded this long. “No,” he said. “But you can spread your wings in this courtyard before we go in.”
Andromeda took her time. She was stiff and she needed to move smoothly if she was to seize an escape opportunity when it arose. Going through some basic exercises taught to most angels in childhood, she did nothing to betray her training under Dahariel—or the fact she’d kept up her skill by sparring with Dahariel and Galen behind walls that protected her secret.
Both angels had agreed with her choice to keep a hidden skill in her arsenal. Galen helped her because she was one of Jessamy’s apprentices, but Dahariel’s motives were . . . complicated. Andromeda didn’t like to think too much on those motives, but her training meant she had some kind of a chance in this hostile environment.
You have secrets.
Naasir’s deep voice echoed in her head and she wondered what he’d done after discovering she’d gone missing. He would’ve joined in the search, but even a silver-eyed vampire who wasn’t a vampire couldn’t be expected to infiltrate this citadel. As far as she was aware, no one aside from Lijuan’s people even knew its exact location.
If she was to survive this and escape, she’d have to rely on herself. Ironically, her bloodline might sway Lijuan enough to keep Andromeda alive, but Andromeda was no hypocrite. She wouldn’t attempt to use a family name she’d chosen to forsake—and regardless, given the way she’d been abducted, Lijuan wasn’t worried about offending Charisemnon.
“Thank you,” she said to Xi after completing the stretching routine.
She’d taken the opportunity to note the armed guards atop the high turrets, as well as the squadrons overhead. For some reason, and despite having witnessed the exquisite beauty and stately elegance of the Forbidden City before its destruction, she’d expected Lijuan’s citadel to be an ugly monstrosity full of despair—instead it was formed from a shimmering dark gray stone that the rising sun lit to glowing life.
Flowers in subtle shades bloomed in large planters situated around the courtyard, and she could see not only soldiers of both sexes moving about, but also maidens dressed in delicate silk cheongsams and ethereal gowns. There were pretty male courtiers, too, wearing embroidered silks and fashionable tunics.
Water glinted through one passageway out of the courtyard, along with flashes of green. A pond, Andromeda realized. Perhaps a garden created around that source of water. That had to be the true courtyard where Lijuan might walk amongst her courtiers. This was the more practical external one, and even it was paved with stones that glittered with flecks of sparkling minerals.
The parts of the roof she could see from here had sinuous dragons along the edges, while painstakingly carved stone bridges connected one section of the citadel to another. Those bridges endowed on the surely sprawling edifice an appearance of fragility. Impressive, given that it was hewn out of stone and could probably withstand a long-term siege.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured. “I expected a more military-like structure.”
“This is our lady’s home,” Xi said, a touch of censure in his tone, his posture military straight. “She has always loved and nurtured artists, though she has never flaunted it like Michaela. This citadel was designed by a gifted architect long ago.”
“Ah.” She ran her fingers over the stone, her bones aching from the sense of history embedded in the silky smoothness under her touch. As if so many hands had touched this stone over so many millennia, it had been worn down to its purest essence. “Suyin?” she asked in wonder.