by Alisa Woods
She wouldn’t dishonor Leksander by assuming duty wasn’t important to him—she knew him too well for that, and besides, he had proven it on more occasions than she could number. But this wanting… it was vexing him, and thus it was a problem to be solved. Perhaps it was similar to her desire for demon-slaying—that act slaked a need deep inside her and kept her on the righteous path with her vow of Chastity. Humans tempted her far less when she was fresh off a demon kill. Demon-slaying was something she wanted that helped her to fulfill her duty.
Aha. It felt as if a light went on in her mind.
Leksander was watching her curiously but without speaking. She tended to get lost in her own thoughts at times, and Leksander’s practice of the Virtue of Patience with her was exemplary. It made him a very worthy friend.
She stepped up to him, gently took him by the shoulders with both hands, and peered intently into his eyes. He appeared surprised that she would take such liberties, but she needed him to see she took this matter with the utmost gravity.
“Have you ever loved someone, Leksander?” she asked.
He jolted in her grip, so she let him go. Perhaps it was too shocking a question.
But he answered it, very quietly. “Yes.”
She nodded, encouraging him. “Is this person still alive?” Her dragon prince had lived for five hundred years—he was at the end of his lifespan, which would only be extended if he successfully mated and produced a dragonling. Not just the life of the treaty hung in the balance, which made it personally important to Erelah. Leksander had been her friend and steadfast ally since her first foray out of Markos’s Dominion when she came of age. Other than the angeling cohort she trained with as a child, he was her oldest friend. She did not want to see him die, not for many, many years to come.
Leksander was having trouble with her question. Maybe he didn’t know the answer? If he had lost track of this human he loved…
“Yes, she’s still alive,” he said, finally.
She frowned. All of this would be much easier if this woman were dead. Or had simply fallen in love with him in the first place. “She must not be very intelligent.”
A smile broke out on his face, the sweet kind that his family tended to have. The dragons of the House of Smoke were all tender of heart—this she knew from her years of personal experience with them, and most recently, with all the troubles with mating.
“What makes you say that?” he asked, the smile playing on his face.
“If she were smart,” Erelah said, “she would have fallen in love with you when she first met you.”
Leksander burst out laughing, so she scowled. She was being serious, and moreover, this was serious business. Given the number of human women that fell in love with the dragon princes on a regular basis, there must be something wrong with the one who had not. Which was unfortunate because the treaty required True Love of Leksander’s mate. This presented a problem, one she wasn’t sure how to approach.
She waited until his laughter settled to a merry look in his eyes. “Do you still love this woman?” she asked. Because if so, the problem was even more dire. And she could see why all her efforts to engage Leksander in a hunt for the perfect mate had been as productive as asking a demon to voluntarily step into the light. Would she need the equivalent of an angel dagger to the chest to convince Leksander to move on?
All humor fled the dragon prince’s face. His seriousness was now equal to the moment, but her concern was doubled. Because this wanting of his might not be in service of his duty.
“What about you, Erelah?” he asked, voice suddenly hushed as if they were discussing secrets. “Have you ever loved someone?”
“I love all humans.” But this was irritating—he was changing the subject.
“Someone in particular,” he pressed, eyes alight. “Anyone at all? Even your parents?”
She let out a tight sigh, but if this discussion was what he desired… perhaps it would lead him to release this prior love and embracing his duty.
“I didn’t know my mother long enough to remember her.” Erelah had the faintest memory of a woman with long, blonde hair like her own, but she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a fantasy. All angelings spoke of their mothers with reverence, but Erelah never understood how they could know them—angelings were all taken away to a Dominion of the Light at nearly the moment of their births. “I imagine that I must have loved my mother. I’ve seen your dragonling princes at the moments of their births—young Larik and little Thorn. They seemed to gaze up at their mothers with love, and certainly, their mothers held great and obvious love for them. I must have been the same, perhaps even more so—after all, my mother is human, and I am half angel. I could not help but love her.”
But this answer was not satisfying Leksander—she could tell by the wrinkling of his brow and the pinched-together state of his ice-blue eyes. “I’m sorry, Erelah. I didn’t realize…”
“Sorry for what?” She could see nothing to be sorry for. Dragons seriously confused her sometimes.
“I didn’t know that you never knew your mother.” He looked very troubled by this.
So she tried to put him at ease. “All angelings are taken from their mothers at birth. This is for the best.”
“How can you say that?” His troubled expression grew darker.
“Because I’m immortal? Because she is already long dead?” This seemed obvious to her, but she tried to walk it back and see how to explain it better. “It is a Fall from grace when a Seraphim loses himself in love with a human female. It’s understandable—all of angelkind feels that tug, that desire for communion with the wonder of God’s creation—but it’s also a tragedy. For that child can never live with humanity—they are too much angel. And that angeling will never be one with the Seraphim—they have too much human within them. They are forever stuck between worlds.”
“I know.” Leksander’s eyes held a light that was true Kindness. Erelah could feel the Virtue hum inside him. “I’ve always thought that angelings had it hardest of all the creatures, like dragons, who are mixed. It’s difficult enough to always be part human and part something else. But in your case…” He reached out to gently tuck back a stray wisp of her hair that was floating beside her. “That something else is entirely different.” He drew back his hand and frowned. “You may not have known your mother, but surely you must love your father.”
She frowned. Whereas her human mother was obviously without fault in Erelah’s birth, the same could not be said for her father. “My father is shadow now. It is part of the Fall. I do not love things which exist in darkness.” How did this conversation get so far off track?
Leksander drew back at the harshness in her tone. “But he’s an angel, right?”
“An angel of darkness.” Why were they discussing her shame? It was not relevant and surely wouldn’t help Leksander find his mate, which was the business at hand. Leksander was scowling darkly now, so she gripped his shoulder with one hand to bring him back to focus. “None of that matters. What matters is finding you a mate. If we find one you can love, then all the better. But your duty is clear, Leksander, and all depends on you not wavering from it. Lust and love and whatever your personal feelings might be… they cannot interfere. I want to help you—you are my most steadfast of friends—but you seem determined to skirt this duty, and I do not understand why.”
Leksander’s face was twisted in turmoil again, but he just stepped back from her touch. “I know you don’t.” He nodded as if affirming something to himself. “I just have to… figure this out.” He held her gaze intently for a moment. “By myself.”
Then he shifted into his lustrous silver dragon form and lifted from the alleyway.
She watched him go and felt her failure like a strike against her heart. She had tried to understand him, and yet he was winging away upset and no closer to the goal.
At times, she felt her ineptness to this task as if it were bred into her at the moment of her birth. She didn’t know he
r father any more than her mother, but she imagined he must be the most incompetent of angels that ever drew holy breath. For all her fumbling and bumbling must have come from somewhere. And that thought haunted her, like a demon that presaged her own Fall to come. Her ardent pursuit of the demons that riddled Seattle was not merely for the pleasure or even the righteousness, but for the certainty that with each one slain, she was still on the path of the Light. But tonight, with Leksander flying off on his own, even demon-hunting had lost its allure. She should return to her Dominion and contemplate where she had gone wrong. And then try once more in assisting her friend. Leksander may wish to tackle this alone, but she would be ready at arms the instant he needed her.
With a heavy heart, she spread her wings and rose from the alley.
Leksander dashed through the halls of the keep.
He was late. If there was any indication of the turmoil in his life, that had to be it. He loathed being late. For anything, really, but for an official function of the House of Smoke? The embarrassment was like dragonfire he’d swallowed that was now consuming him from the inside out.
He arrived at the throne room but hesitated at the door. He could hear the rustlings of the dragons gathered inside. Now that they had returned to the keep outside Seattle, the entire House would be turned out for the official presentation of gifts from around the immortal world. Rosalyn and Leonidas had earned this celebration of their son, Thorn, Leksander’s newest nephew… and they deserved better than to have him rush in halfway through the ceremonies. But there was only one door in, and he couldn’t travel back in time, so…
He pulled open the doors and marched in with as much dignity as he could manage.
He gathered stares, which he ignored. Besides being late, he had to look like hell. He’d been exhaustively hunting demons with Erelah since they returned three days ago, keeping all hours of the night and day with that. And even when he was in his lair, his sleep was fitful. He knew the circles under his eyes were just getting darker, even as he avoided looking in the mirror. Those all-day runs with Erelah were his last-ditch attempt to discern her heart. Did she love him, in her own angeling way? If not, could she love him? Had she ever loved anyone in her entire, nearly one-hundred-year existence in the mortal and immortal realms?
Last night, the answers were no on all counts. And his heart had been banished to the cellar of his soul because of it.
After a long, torturous march, he finally reached the front. Leonidas and Rosalyn sat on their receiving thrones. Leonidas had baby Thorn cradled in one arm, fast asleep—rumor was that he rarely relinquished the child to anyone—while Rosalyn peered on with a smile in her eyes. Leksander gave the shortest bow in the history of House functions then slunk off to the side to stand next to Cinaed and his beloved, Rachel. She didn’t yet bear Cinaed’s mark, at least as far as Leksander could taste with his fae senses, but rumor held that their mating was imminent. He didn’t know what the man was waiting for—finding a mate was something every dragon strove for—but now that little Thorn had been successfully born, Cinaed might settle his own affairs and start his own family.
Leksander gave him a nod and silently wished him well in that—the entire House knew that Leksander’s mating would be nothing so simple. If he managed it at all.
There were no guests present, thank magic. At least he hadn’t brought that embarrassment on his House. On top of the shame of being late, everyone had to know he’d not truly begun the search for a mate yet, something upon which everyone depended. The House of Smoke was built on the treaty. The royals of the House were duty-bound to preserve it. In this, Erelah was exceedingly correct.
Even if she was blind to his feelings for her. Feelings which he needed to bury once and for all… for the good of everyone. Even if it tore into him, leaving him hollow like nothing he’d ever—
An elbow stabbed into his side and jerked him out of his thoughts.
He scowled at Cinaed. “What?” he hissed.
Cinaed’s eyes were wide with some hint he was trying to throw, but he didn’t speak, just jutted out his chin toward the thrones.
Rosalyn was beckoning him.
Oh, for magic’s sake. Leksander sucked in a breath and strode over to the dais and bowed in front of it. “My apologies for my tardiness, my lady. My brother.” He nodded to Leonidas who just shrugged and only had eyes for his son. Leksander’s gaze swung back to Rosalyn. “I’m sorry, Rosalyn—”
“Come here, you big dork,” she said in a quiet voice, not meant for the hall. She gestured him closer to her throne.
He climbed the two steps to stand next to her, turning to face the restless crowd of dragons. He didn’t know what they were waiting for—probably some arrogant angel like Markos to make his appearance and present his gifts. Seeing that oversized, nearly-naked paragon of angel righteousness was that last thing Leksander needed right now. Erelah may not profess to love anyone—not even her own parents—but the way she looked at Markos set Leksander’s blood to boiling. If sex between angels and angelings weren’t forbidden, he was sure she would take a ride on his angelic cock.
“Earth to Leksander,” Rosalyn hush-whispered next to him.
He jolted back to awareness again. He needed some sleep. “I’m sorry, I just…” He shook his head. There were really no excuses.
“Leksander, you look beat.” Rosalyn frowned.
“Sleep is… elusive at the moment, princess.” As if the words summoned a yawn, he pressed the back of his hand to his mouth to stifle one.
She nodded sagely. “It would be worth it if you were up all night with Erelah. Not hunting demons, I mean.”
“Unfortunately, no.” Although his hand had gotten the usual workout, stroking away his frustrations to fantasies of Erelah sans those barely-there wisps of angeling clothing. He gave up seeking relief with other women decades ago—it was just too pathetic, if not downright embarrassing when he called out Erelah’s name mid-climax. Better to get off in his own lair, safely ensconced in his dreams… which were the only places where Erelah professed an affection for him, either lust or love.
Shame burned through him with how pathetic the state of his love life had been, and the long number of years it had been that way.
Rosalyn was scowling at him. “You promised me that you’d tell her.”
“I made no such promise.” His words were a little too sharp—Leonidas looked up from his baby-gazing.
“Don’t try it, bro,” Leonidas warned. “Just give Rosalyn whatever she wants. We’ll all be happier for it.”
“Not all of us.” But Leksander’s bitterness was pointed at the wrong woman. “I’m sorry, Rosalyn. None of this is your fault. Magic knows the two of you have done far more for the House of Smoke than I’ve ever managed.”
Rosalyn wasn’t done, however. “Just tell her, Leksander! I swear to God, it won’t kill you. However, I might steal Erelah’s blade and threaten your neck if you don’t get busy! It’s not like you’ve got time to spare.”
Truth. It was all truth. But that didn’t change one bit about the reality of the situation. “I spoke with her last night,” Leksander said, his stomach tightening with the hopeful look in Rosalyn’s eyes. “Nothing happened. And that’s precisely my point. Nothing is going to happen. She doesn’t love me, and what’s more, I’m certain she’s never loved anyone.”
“No one?” Rosalyn’s face held pity, and Leksander supposed that was the right response, but to him, all it meant was hopelessness.
“No one. Not even her parents.”
Rosalyn drew back in her chair like she didn’t believe him.
Leksander waved away her concern. Or perhaps disbelief. “It’s an angel thing. Which is exactly the problem. She’s not human. She’s not even a witch like you, or a shifter, or anything else from the mortal realm. She’s unearthly, Rosalyn. And I’m afraid that loving someone like me isn’t in the realm of possibilities for someone like her. That’s just… something I have to finally face, now that w
e’re…” He gestured vaguely to baby Thorn. “…in the situation we’re in.”
Even Leonidas’s face held an ocean of sympathy now. “I’m sorry, my brother.”
Leksander sucked in a breath. “Yes, well… me too. But there’s nothing to be done about it. I’ll start looking elsewhere for a mate. Soon.” At the skepticism in his brother’s eyes, he quickly added, “Tomorrow. All right? Tomorrow is the day.”
Rosalyn was scowling again. “Let me talk to her.”
“No!” It came out loud and furious, like a suddenly uncorked volcano. Leonidas’s eyes flew wide, and Rosalyn drew further back. Even Leksander felt the shock of it. Every dragon in the House turned to stare, dropping their banter to whispers. Leonidas’s shock turned into a glare, and he looked like he might throw down for a fight if he weren’t holding his infant son.
“I’m sorry,” Leksander rushed out. “I’m on edge and…” Heartbroken. He swallowed. He didn’t want to give it voice for fear that more than a shouted word or two would come bellowing out of his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “Rosalyn, my lady,” he pleaded, “if there’s no chance of her returning my love, much less having the kind of True Love the treaty requires, please spare me the horror of her knowing my feelings in this. I’m not just trying to avoid a stomping of my heart. I know her too well. She would try some foolish exercise or worse…” He pressed his lips together and leaned away as if fearing to even think about it. Because what would Erelah do? He did know her—strong and brash and powerful. Committed to giving everything to protect humanity. If she thought for one moment she was the one standing in the way of the treaty being renewed—that a love-sick dragon prince couldn’t get over his attachment to her—he shuddered to think what she might do. Angelings were longer-lived and harder to kill than dragons, but he wouldn’t put it past her to go out in some blaze of glory somehow justified by the complicated code of ethics the angel realm seemed to employ. It was mysterious to him, but one thing was clear—the angels and their begotten, the angelings, were nothing if not radically committed to their righteousness.
