Page 17 of Wings of Darkness (Daughter of the Seven Circles #2)

I swallowed a shaky breath, hoping he didn’t notice the relief in my drooped shoulders or the extra second I shut my eyes.

I wasn’t sure if comparing him to Michael would do any good, but at least now I knew there was a shred of something more inside him.

Pity? Maybe. Or something else entirely.

“Are you working for?—”

“Why would I ever be working for a queen who wants to torture and kill me to use my powers to get out of her cage? Why would I ever be part of something that harms other females? Why, oh-so-smart General, would I want to work for someone who forced Aspen to take me against my will? I thought you were more intelligent than this, being in the position you’re in, General Ronen. ”

He had no comeback to that. Of course he didn’t.

Why did he have such a problem with me? It really hurt my chances of helping Aspen escape Lilith, especially since he seemed to detest us both.

I saw how the black had thickened in his eyes at Aspen’s name, and how his shadows had wreathed his neck, curling down his body—like when he first met Oliver.

The general gave me one last penetrating stare, then stalked away.

“Oh, and Ronen,” I said, forgoing respect.

He jolted to a stop, as if hearing his name shocked him.

“Please, stay the hell out of my head.”

He stood there a moment before striding through the doors. They shut with a resounding bang.

“Lucy one, General zero.”

I whipped over to find Oliver smirking.

“Have you been faking sleep this entire time?”

His smirk widened.

I shook my head and sagged into the cot. “I can’t believe you.”

“I woke up halfway through your argument and let the conversation roll. Happy I did. You gave him a tongue-lashing. Never knew you had it in you.”

“Me either,” I said, rubbing my face. “So what happened? How did we end up here?”

“Well, you so kindly passed out. My legs were no longer functioning after freezing my ass off in soaking clothing for who knows how long, and Rune saved the day by carting us to the healers’ wing.”

“And?”

“And you and your friend are lucky,” a male interrupted.

He had curly chestnut hair and a freckled complexion. I’d say he looked boyish and cute if it weren’t for the sternness in his expression or his tall, authoritative stance .

He wore a loose-fitting charcoal shirt and pants. His clothes matched those around him—others who walked between the line of beds and curtains.

“He almost lost his toes. It took several sessions to heal his flesh and a couple more to stabilize his body temperature,” he said, confirming my assumption.

“And you.” He jabbed a finger at me, drawing attention to a yellow crystal the size of a baby’s fist dangling from a chain wrapped around his knuckles.

Similar crystals graced the necks of the other personnel, but in different colors.

“Divine Wasting is serious. You almost drained yourself dry. If you don’t know how to use your powers safely, don’t use them—or find a teacher.”

“I only used them for ten minutes. If that.” I didn’t think such a short time would cause me to pass out.

He gave me another scalding look. “Your powers come from your soul’s energy. The same energy you exercise with. You exhausted yourself during your run, barely leaving anything to tap into your powers. Luscelering should’ve been the last thing you did.”

“So what?” I shot back, feeling the edge of my frustration rise. “Should we have just continued running in our wet clothes and died of hypothermia instead?”

His nose wrinkled. “Of course not. Oliver had enough energy to lusceler himself back, and he could’ve found another member of your squad to come help you.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off.

“If you use up all your energy, you’ll die. I’m sure you felt some signs of degradation. Those are warning signals—telling you to stop. ”

He sighed, shaking his head, as if he could tell I was only taking half of what he said to heart.

“I’ve healed you as much as possible, but something is not allowing me to heal you fully. Every time I try to replenish your energy reserves, it doesn’t stay filled like it should. Have you run into this problem before?”

“A problem with my energy? No, I don’t…” I trailed off as my shoulders dropped.

My mother. How could I have forgotten?

“Say someone was draining your energy… what happens to them if you use too much of your power?”

He scrutinized me, placing his crystal back around his neck. “That depends?—”

“Would it hurt them?”

“In most cases, no. Usually, it’s more harmful to the person being drained,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Why, is someone draining your energy?”

I hesitated. “No, just a hypothetical question.”

He studied me. He didn’t believe me. “I don’t normally do this, and it’s not a solution, but it will help.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out something small and gripping it tightly. Yellow light gleamed through his knuckles before settling. A small yellow crystal rested in his palm when he opened his hand.

“Here.” He handed it to me. “Squeeze it only if you absolutely need to. It probably only has about two uses, but it’ll replenish your energy when it gets too low.”

“Thanks.” The crystal hummed faintly as I grasped it, a comforting sensation swirling through my palm. I tucked it away in my pocket with a grateful smile.

The tightness in his pursed lips told me he wanted to press further, but he didn’t.

After a long pause, he cleared us to leave on the condition that we rest and refrain from going back outside.

I forced a tight smile. I could appreciate the order, but a part of me still boiled with frustration at our failed run.

Once he left, I gave Oliver a questioning look. “And that joyful male was?”

Oliver gazed after the healer with a peculiar expression. “His name’s Sam. A Virtue, like the rest of the healers here. Or at least like the rest of the ones wearing an amulet.”

I assumed they all wore a necklace, but I’d found some healers without them.

“Is it a rank of some sort?”

Oliver shrugged, turning back to me. “Maybe. Sam used his when he healed us. So it channels their powers, but I’m not sure why the different colors. I’m assuming the healers who don’t have them either don’t need them, aren’t Virtues, or aren’t qualified for them.”

Shifting to the side of the bed, my sweatpants bunched at my waist and pooled past my feet. They were huge.

“What am I wearing?” I plucked at the thick, black long-sleeve swallowing my small form, smelling of crisp winter air, balsam, and a sharp note of cloves. My eyes fluttered, and a genuine smile lifted my lips as I brought the shirt to my nose.

Home .

The scent reminded me of the rare times my mom and I felt free—when our burdens fell away, and even Earth’s suffocating homes didn’t feel so stifling.

Every winter, soft snow blanketed the evergreens and carpeted the grass in a sparkly white sheen.

My mom would light a balsam candle, and we’d string up lights and fresh greenery while her terrible jazz music played in the background.

And on the nights snow fell thick, she’d pull me from bed before sunrise, and we’d bundle up, make snow angels, and giggle under the twinkling stars.

The hot chocolate afterward sealed it as one of my favorite traditions.

This scent was all that—but also spicy and sharp. Toe-curling.

Oliver smelled his own shirt, nodding. “I mean, yeah, the general smells great, but I didn’t think it was moan-worthy.”

Instantly, I let go of the shirt, giving Oliver raised, incredulous brows.

“Sam suggested warmer clothing instead of the thin, papery gowns they give patients, and the general complied by donating a couple of shirts. That semi-kind gesture happened before I fell asleep and woke up to him flipping his shit.”

“The general doesn’t know how to be kind, Oliver. The king went to great lengths to get us here, and if we died from hypothermia training in his Hell Squadron, it would be his ass. He gave us warm clothes because he needed to, not because he was being kind.”

“ Ohkay , you’re probably right. Now, do you want to tell me why he flipped out about Lilith?”

Sighing, I stood, holding onto the general’s sweatpants so they didn’t fall to the ground and show my bare ass. Oliver had to do the same. At least his didn’t pool by his ankles. “Not here. I’ll tell you in our rooms.”

Rune met us outside the healers’ wing and followed us back. Once we shut our door and both sank into the settee, I told Oliver about my dream-walks with Aspen—leaving out the sexual details.

“Be careful, Lucy. He still could be under the queen’s influence. You can’t trust him completely.”

I considered his words and the dream-walks. The first one made me suspicious, but Aspen explained himself, and it made sense. Everything he said and all his reactions added up. But Oliver was right. Even if he wasn’t runed, he was still near Lilith.

“About that… you do know Ronen’s the general Magda talked about, right? I assumed you did.” But by his expression, he’d totally forgotten what the witch told us. “He’s the one who can save Aspen. Lilith has the general’s feather.”

Oliver laughed—and laughed some more. I knew what he was about to say before he even said it.

“Hate to break it to you, Lucy, but when the general was rescuing you, he was two seconds away from ending Aspen. He only stopped because you were dying. The general hates him. By the sound of it, all of Hell hates Aspen and Lilith. We’re better off trying to steal his feather back and using it ourselves. ”

Oliver was right. But if we went up against Lilith without the general, we’d die. We weren’t warriors. We were… flounderers.

Rune rested on the plush rug at our feet. Her fur undulated like the general’s shadows, and as the sinking dread set in, I wished I had as much sway over the general as his Soulhound .