Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
The entire group but for her sucked in a breath.
“The only reason the two wandered away rather than carrying on further was that they decided they weren’t dressed for the inclement weather,” the Queen of the Nile added. “Meher is assisting at the Refuge and was on a supply run at the time—and thus close enough to overhear. While his first instinct was to execute them, my third is old enough that he understood they aren’t the problem. He made the decision to allow them to walk away.”
Aegaeon spit out a curse in a language that had died when Caliane murdered the inhabitants of two thriving cities. Raphael’s mother didn’t seem to notice, her gaze locked with Zanaya’s as she said, “The Mantle is failing,” while Alexander nodded.
Raphael was unused to not understanding simple words in a meeting of the Cadre, but his mother’s statement made no sense to him.
Titus, Elijah, and Suyin wore looks of confusion akin to his.
“What is the Mantle?” Raphael interrupted when it appeared Alexander was about to continue the discussion.
Zanaya, Alexander, Aegaeon, and his own mother stared at him.
“This is no time for jests,” Alexander said with a scowl at the same time that Aegaeon rolled his eyes. “Have you forgotten the lessons passed on to you on your ascension, young Rafe?”
“Raphael isn’t the only one who doesn’t know what you’re all talking about.” Elijah’s clipped voice. A blunt rebuke of Alexander’s condescending irritation.
“I don’t, either,” Suyin said and was echoed by Titus.
The Archangel of Southern Africa followed that up with: “So the old ones know and the young ones don’t. Lost knowledge.”
Succinct and to the point, it had the four Ancients going quiet.
It was Caliane who broke the shocked silence. “This knowledge is of our very foundations—it should never be lost.” Her songbird’s voice rose in pitch. “There were safeguards put in place to ensure that.”
The eyes that met Raphael’s were dark and turbulent, her expression that of the woman who’d kissed his childhood bruises and not an archangel doing her duty. “My son, do you say the archangels in power at the time of your ascension didn’t tell you of the Mantle?”
Raphael—his temper stirring—turned to Alexander. “You were on the Cadre when I ascended. Why didn’t you tell me?”
The Archangel of Persia, his leathers a golden brown suited to his desert territory, the silver of his wing arches brilliant against them, frowned. “I assumed the duty had been done by the two archangels whose territory bordered yours. That is how it has always been done.”
“I was one of those two,” Elijah muttered, and raised a single golden eyebrow at Caliane. “My lady, you never shared this knowledge with me and you were my dearest friend on the Cadre.”
Caliane’s face went white. “How could I not?” She looked at the others, then slumped back in her chair and seemed to speak to herself. “I wasn’t mad then, and though Elijah was not my neighbor, we were great allies. I should have told him.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Caliane.” Aegaeon’s tone held a hesitant edge Raphael had never before heard from the egotistical male.
“You were awake a long time—and the more time we spend in the world, the more our memories tangle. To be frank, I don’t remember the last time I passed on the information.” The confession of a man with honor—when it came to being an archangel at least. “I think I just . . . forgot it? The Mantle has always been there and so I no longer thought about it?”
A mortal wouldn’t have understood Aegaeon’s confusion, but mortals didn’t exist for eons upon eons. Memories became an infinitely less linear and more complex thing once there were layers upon layers upon layers of them.
“The last time I passed on knowledge of the Mantle was about a thousand years before my Sleep.” Zanaya winced, the silvery flecks in the midnight of her eyes seeming to glow with an archangel’s fire. “Excluding today, I haven’t given a flying thought to the Mantle since.”
Raphael knew they had no time for anger or recriminations—especially when some of those who hadn’t passed on the knowledge were either dead, had gone insane, or were lost to an endless Sleep. “I’m gathering that this Mantle protects the Refuge from incursions?”
“Yes.” His mother pushed a stray tendril of hair off her face and behind her ear, her cheeks flushed and her skin tight as she leaned forward in her chair. “I wasn’t told from whence it came, only that the Refuge never had to worry about intrusion from the uninvited. That those who didn’t already know of the Refuge would simply not see anything worth exploring.”
“The Mantle doesn’t create a total blank in their memories,” Zanaya elaborated, her arms angled in a way that said she had her hands on her hips; from the fabric visible on her shoulders, she was dressed in a plain linen tunic suitable for work or sparring. “Rather, it creates the memory of an unremarkable area they couldn’t be bothered to explore.”