“Yes. Always obstinate that one, but with such a huge heart that none could hold a grudge against him.” Smile fading, youth fading, Lijuan herself faded and came back into focus in a way that seemed more . . . blurry than before. “I can see Alexander choosing to Sleep under the mountain he well loved, in the lands of a friend he trusted.”
“Alexander was known for his attachment to his people,” Xi said into the whispering quiet that had fallen. “And he left behind a son who even now resides in his palace.”
“Rohan was an overconfident infant.” Lijuan’s features turned skeletal, the maggots crawling in her eye sockets making Andromeda’s stomach turn. “Instead of alerting the Cadre after Alexander chose to Sleep, he attempted to hold his father’s territory, almost caused a vampiric bloodbath.”
“Regardless,” Xi said, “he was deeply trusted by his father.”
Lijuan gave a small nod. “Scholar, what say you on this?”
Biting her lip and hoping her voice wouldn’t break and betray her, Andromeda shook her head. “I considered Alexander’s attachment to his people and to his son,” she said, “but as you yourself noted, he was a great tactician. I do not think he would make such an obvious choice.”
“Emotions can blind,” Lijuan said, before glancing at Xi. “However, it could also be said that Alexander would not place his son in danger by going to Sleep below his palace.”
Xi inclined his head in acceptance of the point before saying, “It could also be a double-bluff.” He glanced at Andromeda. “Friendship alone isn’t why you believe it’s Kilimanjaro.”
“No.” Andromeda told them of the scrolls she’d read, the stories she’d found in the Archives, even requested a piece of paper and mapped out Alexander’s possible location on the mountain. “A bare year before his disappearance, Alexander was seen on this exact spot by another angel, and yet it was later discovered that Titus knew nothing of the visit.” Andromeda had been so excited when she’d discovered that piece of what had then been an intellectual mystery.
“I follow you,” Xi said, examining her hand-drawn map. “No archangel would cross over into another’s territory without permission unless the need was critical. And to not tell his friend, it suggests an attempt to protect Titus from the weight of the knowledge.”
Andromeda’s pulse pounded. “Yes, exactly.”
“Head to Kilimanjaro,” Lijuan ordered Xi. “I will decide our next course of action once you either find Alexander, or clear the region.” Blood-drenched eyes held Andromeda’s again. “While Xi is gone, you will write down every other possibility, no matter how small.”
Only one answer was safe. “Yes, Lady Lijuan.”
“I will send advance scouts today, make preparations to leave on the next dawn.” Xi’s wings caught the golden lamplight as he resettled them in what Andromeda knew wasn’t a restless move but that of a warrior who wanted to ensure his wings didn’t cramp. “We must take extreme care. Titus has ramped up his security since the rise in hostilities with Charisemnon.”
The general glanced at Andromeda, the intensity of his gaze a glistening black blade. “You are certain Kilimanjaro heads your list?”
You have secrets. You wear another skin, too.
Andromeda clung to the memory of Naasir’s words, to the skin of an intimidated and scared scholar that was her shield. “Yes.”
Lijuan leaned back on her throne, her body translucent. “Remember this, scholar.” Words that echoed with so many screams, Andromeda’s eardrums threatened to bleed. “If I find you have lied to me, Heng’s punishment among the hounds will appear as nothing.”
Andromeda bowed her head. “Lady, you must understand I can offer no certainties.” No one could. “I am but an apprentice.”
No answer, and when she looked up, Lijuan was gone. As if she’d turned into her noncorporeal form. Even as Andromeda’s breath caught at this evidence of Lijuan’s “evolution,” she wondered if the choice to become noncorporeal had been a conscious one. It seemed to her that Lijuan had simply been too tired to hold the physical manifestation of her form.