Archangel's Storm

had never feared death, not for himself. But he would not permit Mahiya to be sacrificed on the altar of the bitter war about to take place. It was one born of old vengeance and old pain, twisted and rancid. Nivriti might love Mahiya, but she hated Neha more. Anyone caught in the middle of their conflict would be obliterated.
    He thought of Mahiya with her wings broken, her face shattered, her eyes weeping blood, and knew he’d force her hand if need be, earn her hatred, but he
would not
watch her die. Not Mahiya.
    “What are you thinking?” she asked softly. “You went away for a second.”
    He considered obfuscation, decided on truth.
    Her response was instant. “I could
never
hate you. I’d sooner love Neha.” Kissing his jaw with sweet, hot lips, she said, “All right, Jason. You are more experienced in matters of war—I will take your lead in this.”
    *  *  *
    J ason had planned to approach Neha on his own, but Mahiya folded her arms, shook her head. “I know her in ways you don’t, that you can’t, especially when it comes to this one thing on which Neha is not rational.”
    “I want you safe.” No one had ever been to him what Mahiya had become. “A single burst of anger from Neha and you will be erased from existence.” And he could not imagine walking the world knowing he’d never again see the strange, dangerous hope that lived in those eyes bright as a jungle cat’s.
    “I take your help because you are the stronger,” she said, raw emotion in every word, “but I won’t hide behind your wings. This is my battle and I will not act the coward! I won’t, Jason.”
    Before he’d reached this inexplicable equilibrium with Mahiya, before she’d staked a claim on him, he’d have incapacitated her and completed the task before she ever knew it was done. Her anger afterward would’ve mattered little. Now he understood who Mahiya was, understood what his action would steal from her, knew that to deny her this would be to take something from her that could never be returned.
    So it was that she landed beside him in the gardens that overlooked the lake, as sunset lingered on the horizon—Jason having spent the intervening time narrowing down the probable whereabouts of Nivriti’s army, with Mahiya assisting by gathering any information she could through subtle questioning of the older servants.
    Neha stood alone on the edge where the fort dropped steeply into the water, her gaze on the city beyond.
    “I hear Raphael’s people now make free in my territory,” was her opening statement, her tone limned in frost.
    “Aodhan had information that was of help to me in my task.”
    The folds of the sage green sari Neha wore today flowed around her ankles as she turned, her wings perfect arches at her back. “Must I beg this information from you?”
    “I would never expect such,” he said, aware of Mahiya’s resolute presence and conscious that no matter what he’d instructed, she would not run if this turned deadly. “However, the stakes have changed.”
    Neha rubbed the skin of the thin golden snake coiled around her upper arm like a living armband. “I see.” A dangerous glint in her eye. “You break the blood vow.”
    He would have done so without compunction if it would’ve saved Mahiya, but as it was, he no longer had to. “With my action, I protect the best interests of the family.” Neha, Nivriti, and Mahiya were the last direct descendants of an ancient bloodline. With Neha and Nivriti about to go to certain war, Mahiya had become the family’s only hope for a future.
    “You must seek something valuable indeed that you dare play games with me.”
    “Not valuable . . . but intriguing.” He knew Mahiya listened to what he said, and yet he did not sheathe his words, having every faith in her intelligence. “My curiosity is not yet sated.”
    Neha’s gaze went from him to Mahiya, her smile as cold as the blood of the creature around her arm. “You do not need to bargain with me for her, Jason. You’re welcome to remain at this court as long as you wish.”
    “I’m one of Raphael’s Seven,” he reminded her. “I must soon return, and I ask that you release Mahiya to me.”
    Neha’s eyes were suddenly chips of ice. “Why would I give you my favorite toy?” A flick of her wrist and Mahiya was wrenched up into the air, her neck arched in a way that meant she had to be having trouble breathing.
    Rage, black and violent, surged in his veins, but he held it in