Page 2 of Angel Lost (Fates Academy #3)

Chapter Two: Lorelei

The portal flickers and I stumble out, the ground lurching toward my face. Goddess-damned things. The oil-slick surface winks at me and I give it the finger. At least I didn’t puke.

Standing straighter, I brush down my clothes, my fingers coming away coated in sticky black blood. Great, I look like I rolled around in an abattoir for the damned. Cautiously, I sniff my shirt. My stomach heaves. Not good. Very, very not good. Step one in my “make Chano jealous”plan probably shouldn’t involve making Farrell puke.

Surreptitiously wiping my hands down my jeans, I peer around. The ornamental gardens are destroyed, an occasional raggedy rose bush the only remnant of the stunning flower beds, and the grass is thin, browning. How did Farrell destroy the place so quickly? The Virrey’s been imprisoned by the P.I.G. for less than six months.

In the distance, a sea of khaki tents occupies the formal lawns, spilling onto what was once the polo pitch and extending down the shore to the lake.

Clattering echoes from the portal behind me, and a bunch of tattered soldiers stumble out. Satyr shit. Their pointed ears and flowing garb single them out as fae. Fae? What the hell are fae doing here?

A shimmer, like a heat haze, rolls over the group, and I blink. The soldiers are just as battered, but…they’re no longer fae. An illusion? Farrell’s unmistakable russet curls stand out in the center of the group. His usually immaculate shirt is torn and his cheek bruised. From the direction of the tent city a mass of people streams toward him.

“No losses,” Farrell barks, and a couple of the women raise their faces to the sky in thanks. “Two injured, arriving shortly. None of the enemy scouts escaped. I need volunteers to use bitter apple on the civilian witnesses—make them forget everything, quickly. Before the P.I.G. start sniffing around. Then, there are five dead angels to be swept for trackers, and their bodies burned.”

Angels? They’ve been fighting the king’s angels? I hiss in surprise and Farrell’s handsome face snaps toward me.

“Lorelei?” Farrell takes in my clothes, the blood. He grips my chin and wipes who the hell knows what from my face. Blood, probably. Guts…maybe. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Not my blood.”

“Not yours,” Farrell repeats, tugging me to his chest. His citrus and pine scent wraps around me. He takes a few breaths before leaning away, peering into my eyes. “Talk. Why do you reek of death?”

It all tumbles out. The rip, the fight. The dead Maverik. Chano’s utter unreasonableness and his demand that I stay out of danger.

“He’s right,” Farrell says, folding his arms across his chest.

“Are you insane too? I’m strong. I have aether.” I mimic his posture. I don’t need another overprotective asshole. I need him to take me seriously.

Farrell rolls his eyes. “You have aether that you don’t know how to use. Aether you shouldn’t expose.”

I scowl.

“See this?” He steps back and gestures to the wrecked lawns, the tent city. “They’re hiding from the king and his men. When we go after the scouts we go disguised by my illusions. If I’m hiding, you should most definitely be hiding too.”

My retort dies in my mouth. I turn full circle on the spot. Hiding? I’m missing something. Soldiers march between the more official-looking tents, but my gaze is drawn to the those made of a simple bit of canvas over a rope, to the ragtag kids skimming stones across the lake.

“I don’t understand.” It almost hurts to say it. “What’s happening?”

He scrubs a hand through his curls and shrugs. “The Angel King. On the news he says his scouts are looking for rips, for hellions. Of course, he’s really hunting down any traces of insurgence, and quietly disposing of those who oppose him. He’s focusing on the fae lands for now. But there are enough scouts in Venez that we have to be careful.”

“How long?” I choke out. “How long has this been going on?”

“Pretty much since school broke up.” Farrell cocks his head. “I assumed you knew and just didn’t want to get involved, princess.”

“No. I-I…” How do I tell him I didn’t want to know? I couldn’t see how it would affect us…and after Naeve dying I couldn’t hack the news and its constant negativity. “I didn’t,” I finish lamely.

Reaching out, I trace the rip in his shirt sleeve. “Why didn’t you tell me? Look, let me get cleaned up, then you can brief me. I’ll come on the next mission.”

Farrell snorts, turning on his heel. “Not likely. You haven’t trained. You’d endanger yourself, and my soldiers.”

An older man with an insignia on his shirt mutters in Farrell’s ear. Farrell’s gaze darts to the supes lingering nearby. He swivels, kissing me gently on the forehead, then winks, dropping his voice. “Got to keep up the pretense we’re a couple, don’t we, princess.” I glare and he shrugs. “By all means stay, train. With the kids.”

He dips his head again and his lips find mine, hot, demanding. My anger dissipates and I melt into him. The world around us vanishes, and all I can feel are his hands on my arms, his tongue in my mouth. Suddenly, Farrell pulls away, his jaw clenching. My lips tingle and I shiver, cold without him wrapped around me. He strides off, leaving me there, in the middle of the lawn.

Alone .

I wipe my wrist across my lips, staring after him in disbelief. What is his problem? Right. Save yourself, Lorelei. You know where the mansion is. No one here thinks you need an invitation. You’re as entitled to stroll on in as Farrell. You’re the princess, after all.

Train with the kids, can I? Asshole.

My anger powers my weary feet along the drive, and up the massive stone steps of the mansion. The giant oak door guarding the arched entryway yawns open. No butler pops out to take my bags. Not that I have much. I trail inside, the exposed tile floor echoing eerily. The Virrey’s lavish rugs are gone, the main hallway left stark. Rectangles of brighter paint give away where expensive artwork once hung on the walls. I pause halfway along the corridor, staring up.

“Sold,” a chipper voice says at my elbow. “Sold for the cause.”

“Zephyr!” One look at his grinning face, his perfect blond hair, and I launch myself at him.

He sidesteps me neatly, pinching his nose with finger and thumb.

“As much as I would love a hug, Lorelei, can you shower first?”

Everyone sits down to dinner in the dining hall. And by everyone, I mean it’s probably a tenth of the soldiers and a few handfuls of the women and kids from the camp. Zephyr explains quietly that it’s a rotation. Everyone gets the honor of eating with their leader. Farrell really is going hard on this glorious leader shit.

The rough-hewn picnic tables where the rebels sit are a far cry from the beautifully carved head table I’m seated at. But, poking desolately at my plate, it dawns on me: everyone eats the same bland slop. Things have seriously changed since the Virrey’s imprisonment. Guilt claws at me. I should have checked on Farrell, realized he wasn’t really as “fine” as he claimed. If I’d come sooner…Seen fo r myself…

I almost don’t blame him for being so standoffish. Almost.

As the last piece of cutlery clinks down, Farrell rises. “We’ll be in the library, Lorelei. The rebellion needs leadership during term, and I have to choose a new Hand. It can’t be Zephyr—he’ll be with me, studying.”

I follow them down the echoing halls, but the library door slams shut in my face, draining the last of my patience. As far as the generals know, I’m supposed to be leading this rebellion at Farrell’s side. Maybe our relationship started as a ruse to keep the factions united, but damn it, I want to know what’s going on. I need to know.

Flames skitter across my skin, and I pause, hand on the bronze doorknob. I can’t storm in this out of control. Not if I want to be taken seriously. I lean my head against the cool wood and will my anger to subside.

Telling me to train with the kids, then kissing me like that. Calling me princess as an insult. Arrogant asshole.

The flames rushing down my arms spike higher. Shit. I puff out my cheeks and step back into the shadows. I’ll wait him out. Demand to be included once we’re in private, once the soldiers leave.

Zephyr rounds the corner and pauses, frowning. His head tilts this way and that. I push up off the wall, out of the shadows.

“By the Fates, Lorelei. When did you learn that?”

Scrunching my nose, I consider him. “What?”

“You were practically at one with the wall, girl.”

I shrug, a smugness settling in my gut. I might have been practicing channeling my inner vamp over the holidays.

Zephyr glances between me and the firmly shut door before pulling a face. “It’s not that he doesn’t care, Lori.”

“Sure seems like that.”

“Don’t take it personally, I’m being removed as Hand, and even I’m not in there.”

He tosses his hair over a shoulder and jerks his head for me to follow him. Reluctantly, I move away from the room where futures are being decided .

“Have you guys even talked?” he asks.

“Not beyond him checking I wasn’t bleeding to death, no. He hasn’t told me much about the patrols.”

Zephyr snorts. “Not about that, stupid. About you, Chano, and Farrell?”

My breathing stalls, and my lower belly clenches. “He told you about that?”

Zephyr huffs. “He tells me everything. Have you? Talked?”

Suddenly, the uncarpeted floor we’re trailing along is the most fascinating thing ever. “No,” I mutter, and my blush rises.

“Do you think you could love more than one person? More than Chano?”

I shrug, chewing a strand of hair. I’m going to kill Farrell. This is private.

Zephyr ignores my discomfort and presses on. “I mean, if you have them both, would you…expand your harem further?”

I jerk my gaze up to meet his. He’s not teasing.

“I don’t have a harem,” I protest. “I don’t know where my head is with Chano and Farrell! They hate each other. I’ve complicated things, so much.”

“So, no openings then?”

I frown. “I don’t have a harem, and I don’t want a harem. I don’t even know if there’s room for Farrell.”

Zephyr purses his lips. “I see.”

I sigh and rub my temples with my fingers. “Anyway, romance isn’t Farrell’s issue, is it? I don’t think he wants me, beyond lust. He definitely doesn’t want me here. Hell, he deliberately didn’t tell me what was going on with the king’s scouts. To him I’m still competition, aren’t I? The lost aether who could rip the rebellion’s loyalty away from him.”

There, I’ve said it. Out loud. But the look on Zephyr’s face gives me no more to go on. He keeps his features utterly impassive. Does he think I’m the competition too? I’m not. Although, something about all those tents, those people…For the first time, I want to get involved. I can help. I could be more than just a figurehead princess, pretending to be Farrell’s girlfriend.

So, what does that mean? Stay here…accept I’ll only be allowed to train with the kids. Accept I won’t be allowed to take any real risk? Real responsibility?

Hell no. Both Chano and Farrell can go fuck themselves. I’ll train myself.

I’ve got this.