Налини Сингх - Archangel's Sun

“Hush, my sweet,” Sharine murmured, rocking the child—to no avail. Her face turned red under the gold of her skin, her sobs jerky in between the wails.

“Hah, she is stubborn. Give her to me.”

Placing the baby’s tiny body against his shoulder, Titus patted her back with firm motions that didn’t rub or otherwise abrade her fragile wings. A slew of hiccups before the wailing trailed off. “See?” Titus beamed proudly. “It’s not difficult.”

Sharine felt her lips twitch. He’d be insufferable if not for the sheer adorableness of this picture. And she couldn’t blame the babe for snuggling against him. Were Sharine in the mood to snuggle into any man, Titus’s broad shoulder would be at the top of the list. “I see you’ve done this before.”

“Many children call my court home.”

Once the child’s eyes had closed, her little form in a snuffling sleep, Titus laid her down on the towel again and Sharine put the powder on her. She massaged those little limbs as she did so, in the same way another mother had shown her to do with Illium when he’d been a babe.

The child was still fast asleep by the time she finished, and Sharine gathered her up in a soft new towel in lieu of a blanket before carrying her out. She knew the child couldn’t understand anything she might see, but she made sure to keep the little one’s face turned away from her mother’s already decaying body.

The reborn angel had melted in the time they’d been in the bathroom. Greenish fluid leaked from her every pore, and right then, her fingers degloved to bone, her flesh plopping to the floor.

“I wish you peace, child,” Sharine said before she walked out of the room.

Titus followed, pulling the door shut behind them. “I’ll leave the body instead of incinerating it.” No smile now, his features grim. “I need to call our scientists so they can begin the tests.”

“You’ll have to tell the Cadre about her, won’t you?” Sharine said, her arms protective around the child. “You know they’ll consider her a threat.”

“She could mean death for every angelic child,” Titus said gently. “But we will give her a chance. I’ll ask my scientists to test her blood against the infection and see if she carries within her a cure . . . or if she is a sweet-faced carrier, designed to slip under our guard.”

Sharine didn’t resist when he plucked the child from her arms. Holding the tiny body in one arm, he sighed. “She’s his child.”

So he’d noticed the eyes after all. “Yes. Does that make a difference?”

A lopsided smile. “Only that that ass’s behind managed one last trick.” Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead. “She is but a babe dreaming innocent dreams, and if she’s no threat, then I’ll raise her as I would any other orphaned child in my territory. I’ll also tell her of her mother’s brave heart, she who fought to stay alive so her child would live.”

When he raised his free arm, she went into his embrace, this man warm and strong and with a heart capable of incredible kindness. And she tried not to think of what would happen if the tests showed the child to be a carrier, the unknowing bringer of a devastating disease.

* * *

Two days later and Titus could tell that Sharine didn’t want anyone taking blood from the child, but she clenched her jaw and gritted her teeth and watched eagle-eyed until the deed was done.

The babe’s sobs soon turned into sniffles after Titus picked her up and patted her back, her little body snuggled against his shoulder. “You are a courageous one.” It was true—the child cried as would any child, but she also recovered quickly, her hands fisted as if in a stubborn refusal to surrender.

He knew he shouldn’t become attached to her, that he might yet have to execute her—and he knew damn well it’d destroy him to do so even if he hadn’t bonded with her. But he couldn’t suppress his feelings of affection. She was so tiny and so helpless. Some would say that made her the perfect weapon to annihilate the world.

“Is there any word?” Sharine asked, sweat dampening the hair at her temples and flecks of unknown substances on her tunic—she’d just come in from doing a shift watching over a ground team. “Does she carry the virus?”

“My scientists are having difficulty understanding what they see in her cells—hence the need to take more samples and confirm their findings.” He’d been blunt that they were to be careful with the blood they harvested, to not spend it too quickly. It was a baby, after all, from whose body they were drawing the samples.

The only reason he’d permitted it at all was because he had to give the Cadre a reason to allow this child to live. No one could force him to execute anyone in his territory—but were she the bearer of a plague, he wouldn’t have a choice. “Sometimes, being an archangel isn’t a gift,” he gritted out.

Sharine touched her hand to his upper arm, then reached up to stroke the baby’s back. “I don’t envy you, Titus. But I know that whatever you do, you’ll do with honor. This child will have the best possible chance with you as her champion.”

He dropped a kiss on the baby’s downy head and hoped he could uphold Sharine’s faith.

* * *

While the scientists worked, dressed in protective gear such as normally only used by mortals, the baby continued to live in the nursery inside Charisemnon’s court. Were she a carrier, to take her anywhere else risked spreading a disease. So Titus and Ozias had brought in everything the baby might need.

Sharine watched the child for multiple shifts, with Ozias volunteering to take the risk of infection and stepping in so they had another person in the rotation who could be with the infant without protective gear.

“No child should spend her first days in the world without the comfort of touch,” Titus’s spymaster had said firmly. “I know enough about babysitting after surviving all the children that have been raised in your court, sire, that I’m unlikely to kill the infant by accident.”

Needless to say, Ozias was a most unusual babysitter.

The one mercy was that Sharine had found confirmation in Charisemnon’s journal that the infection set in early and visibly, so the three of them only had a stand-down period of two hours after contact with the infant. After that, they were safe to return to the fight, sure they wouldn’t inadvertently carry the infection to Titus’s troops and staff.

On the evening of the fifth day since the child’s birth, Titus came by with dinner for Sharine and found the child asleep in her crib. As they ate, seated side by side on a sofa, Sharine asked for an update on the reborn situation; her last external shift had been twenty-four hours earlier, when she’d single-handedly saved three ground teams from being overwhelmed by a hidden nest.

Day by day, hour by hour, she was becoming ever more comfortable in her power and better able to direct it. Titus had the strong feeling they’d still only seen the tip of the iceberg—Sharine had plenty more surprises up her sleeve.

His people were over the shock of the Hummingbird not being at all what they’d expected, and were now well on the way to total adoration. Tough, loyal, and newly hard-of-heart Kiama often tracked her down for conversation, Titus’s harried cook somehow had the time to make a “little something” for her each day, and one of his lead vampiric commanders had threatened mutiny if Titus didn’t manage to hold on to her.

“I said nothing when you scared away the others,” India had said with a flash of fangs, “but, sire, I’ll surely rebel if you lose Lady Sharine.”

Tall and heavily built Amadou, a fellow senior commander, had nodded in solemn agreement.