“Great, thanks.” Elena took the stairs two at a time, while Montgomery kept pace with her. “Is there anything else I need to handle?”
“I’ve prepared the blue suite for Lady Caliane, and Sivya is ensuring we’ll have plenty of dishes for her to choose from,” he said as she walked into her and Raphael’s rooms and began to unstrap her weapons.
Crossbow, knives, the throwing stars Ash had given her, the blade sticks that had been a gift from Mahiya. Leaving it all in a pile on a table, although she usually made sure to clean and neatly store her tools, she began to unlace and pull off her boots. “It sounds like you’re on top of things.” She frowned, tried to think like a consort. “Run her a bath so it’s ready and at the right temperature when she arrives. She’s had a long journey.”
“Of course.”
“And get a few flowering potted plants from the greenhouse,” she said, remembering the lush gardens of Amanat. “Put them in her suite and her bathing chamber.”
“I’ll do it now.”
“What about clothes?” Elena’s head jerked up. “If she came alone, she might not have brought anything.” Nothing of Elena’s would fit her, Caliane being smaller and with more curves.
Montgomery looked momentarily green, but pulled himself together with commendable speed. “I’ll contact the tailor. He must have a suitable piece he can alter quickly, and I’ll have him work through the night to produce others.” The butler pulled the door shut behind himself.
Tearing off her clothes, Elena showered at the speed of light, then slipped into the dress Montgomery had chosen. It was wildfire white with a haunting shimmer and, as far as gowns went, it was comfortable, being a column that began at her neck and skimmed down her body, but split into four overlapping panels at the hips.
The overlap meant her modesty was preserved, while she had the ability to stride about—and to fight. The back was open to accommodate her wings; she normally didn’t like showing that much skin, but it worked with the severe front, and honestly, she was happy not to have to figure out any straps or wing-slit buttons at the moment. Button the collar at the side of her neck, the closure discreet, and the dress was done.
Montgomery really deserved a raise.
Brushing out her hair, she pulled it into the twist Sara had taught her, then anchored it using Mahiya’s blade sticks.
Still feeling naked and weaponless, but knowing she couldn’t plaster herself with knives, had to find more baubles instead, she opened the wooden jewelry box that sat on the vanity. Her eye fell on the sweet, sweet blade that Raphael had given her. The sheath and handle embedded with gemstones, it appeared decorative—and could slice through bone if used correctly.
Yes, her lover knew her.
“I love you, Archangel,” she said with a smile as she fixed the soft black sheath around her upper arm, the blade sparkling shiny and fancy in contrast to the white of the dress.
She poked small diamond earrings into her pierced earlobes, dusted on makeup, and, deciding that would have to do, raced on to the next critical thing on her list—a face-to-face call with Jessamy. The slender angel’s eyes, a rich burnt sienna, went huge when Elena told her what was about to happen. “This is a highly unusual situation, Ellie,” the other woman said, flipping rapidly through her books. “You are greeting an Ancient who is the mother of your consort, but he is also an archangel.” Lines marred her smooth forehead. “It all complicates the usual order of things.”
“Give me something, Jess,” Elena pleaded. “It’s her first visit to our home.” Caliane had Slept for over a thousand years, rising to consciousness less than a year past, during Lijuan’s first overt attack on Raphael. Since then, Raphael’s mother had remained in the lost city that had arisen with her, focusing on the well-being of her people.
Elena ran a hand over her face. “It’s critical I make a good impression.” Not because she cared for Caliane’s approval, but because Caliane was Raphael’s mother.
If her own mother could come back, could pierce the veil of death, she thought on a wave of grief that had never ceased to hurt, Elena would want her and Raphael to be friends, to like one another. The latter was improbable with Caliane, but at least the two of them could have a cordial relationship that might, in, oh, ten thousand years or so, thaw into mild liking.
“This will have to do,” Jessamy muttered. “It’s an account of a younger archangel greeting an Ancient. You’re not an archangel, but as Raphael’s consort, you carry his status by association in this situation.”
Five minutes of swift instruction later, Elena headed downstairs, the slippers that matched her dress in one hand. Leaving them by the door, she went into the kitchens to discover controlled chaos. Waiting for a pause in the movement, she said, “Thank you. I know it’ll mean a lot to Raphael that you’re giving his mother such a welcome.”
Smiles on each and every face, the stress draining away.
She made sure to personally thank Montgomery as well. Maybe she didn’t know exactly how to be a consort, but she knew the members of a team functioned better with acknowledgment. And these people were all part of her team now—part of her family.
Then the rain, the crashing sea, was in her mind. Guild Hunter, I give you a five-minute warning.
A five-hour warning would’ve been better. She slipped her feet into the flat evening slippers and headed out into the snow to find that Montgomery had arranged for a pristine black carpet to be rolled to the landing area. We’re going to have a discussion when you get home about your idea of appropriate prep time. Though she had to admit he’d been right to cut it so fine—the rush had given her no real time to stress.