Page 29 of Wings of Darkness (Daughter of the Seven Circles #2)
Chapter
Eighteen
LUCILLE
T hat night, the same three nightmares tormented me, but unlike every other time when Oliver or Rune woke me, this time, a swath of shadows soothed and gentled my pain, easing me into a blissful, deep sleep. Sleep I hadn’t had in a while.
Finally.
When I woke up to Alexei’s trumpet, I groaned, crushing my pillow to my ears. Though I was thankful my sheets weren’t soaked through with sweat and Oliver wasn’t hovering over me with that helpless expression, I could do without the headache.
Speaking of Oliver, why didn’t I hear his groaning? I peeked over at his spot in bed, finding the blankets made, and sat up. Neither Rune nor Oliver was next to me.
Was this another hallucination ?
“Oliver?” I called out, half expecting to hear him choking on his blood.
He walked into the room, dressed in warm clothing, with a coffee in his hand. I blinked a few times, not sure if this was a different tactic the king was trying out.
Oliver laughed. “I’ve only been up for like five minutes. Don’t have a coronary.”
I rolled my eyes and flopped back in bed, my head throbbing. “Did the king show up this morning? We were supposed to have our lesson today.”
“Not unless he showed up in the two minutes I left to change. But Rune almost broke down the door to be let out, then raced away, so maybe the king and the general have something more pressing to deal with.”
Weird. But I couldn’t say I was all too upset by the fact I wouldn’t have him prying into my mind while it slammed against my skull.
Alexei blared his trumpet again, longer than usual, like he was determined to make my head split open.
“Make it stop,” I whined, burrowing under the covers.
“Enjoying that hangover, Luce?” Oliver asked with a smile in his voice.
I sank into my Infernus, pulling on my power to form an icicle to chuck at him, but the moment I felt the itches, my stomach revolted. Shoving away my blankets, I sprang out of bed and sprinted to the bathroom, making it just in time to puke in the toilet.
Oliver leaned against the doorframe, grimacing. “That good, huh? ”
“Think Alexei will let me stay back?” I moaned, resting my cheek on the toilet seat.
He snorted and handed me a towel. “If death isn’t off the table during training, then I’m pretty sure puking because someone can’t handle her alcohol isn’t either.”
“Death seems like a better option right now,” I mumbled, staring at my hair, now a casualty of the puke’s path.
Unfortunately, Alexei didn’t care about my hangover and threatened to carry me out of my room if I didn’t dress in the next five minutes.
The day only got worse from there.
Like the last two weeks of training, we started in the bathrooms. Carrot-top blasted us with his water during our drenching hour while some of our group watched. My head pounded, and I gagged back bile, having nothing left to puke up after this morning.
Although I almost wished I did, just to see the look on Theon’s face.
After we jogged to our rooms to change and dry our hair as best we could, we ran-walked our ten miles and lifted weights. Fortunately, by the time we started lifting, my hangover had metabolized out of my system, and I was able to enjoy the little progress I made that day.
“Tormentors, finish up your last set. We’re moving to the weapons range,” Moira called out.
A group of ten warriors finished up drills in the weapons range. They were securing an arsenal of weapons—swords, axes, daggers, javelins, spiked balls—onto a towering wall, their steel gleaming in the light streaming through the high, arched windows .
Oliver and I walked behind Cade and Zera—two group members we hadn’t interacted with much besides seeing their taunting smiles during the drenching hour . Usually, the twins were in front of us, but they were curiously absent.
We passed the Bowels Squadron practicing in the sparring grounds. The size of their group occupied a good fourth of the area, not including the stone seating that their leader had half of them running up and down. I wish that was our daily warm-up and not running miles in ice and snow.
We moved on, passing more squadrons and the dais where General Ronen should’ve stood, but he was also absent today, leaving Alexei and four other Dreads to watch our progress.
“How good are you with weapons?” I asked Oliver.
He ran a hand through his hair. “Daggers, decent. Swords, I can get by. Anything else… I’m trash.”
So, we wouldn’t be impressing anyone today.
“For most of you, this week of weapons training is all review, so feel free to test out new maneuvers,” Moira said, singling us out.
“To start, we will split into pairs and rotate archery, swordsmanship, close-combat weapons, throwing, and hand-to-hand with powers. Pick your partner, pick your station, and wait for my whistle.”
The enthusiasm on everyone’s faces, and even Oliver’s face, did not match my increasing heart rate and frown. It worsened when Moira called us over.
“Since I know you two are, in fact, worthless, it would be careless of me to keep you paired up.” She motioned to Theon. “Lucille, precious, I think you’d be best with Theon at the hand-to-hand station. Seeing as you have experience with his element, it may be easier for you.”
Her baiting smile had pressure building behind my eyes, which only made Moira’s smile widen further.
“Which leaves Cyrus with Oliver and close-combat weapons.” Moira took a step back from our group and called out to the Tormentors. “We’ll do forty-five minutes per station, take breaks as you need them, and try not to kill anyone who doesn’t deserve it.” Then she blew her whistle in my face.
I guaranteed she hoped Theon accidentally killed me.
Theon and Cyrus headed toward the stations, but I remained rooted in place, my gaze locked on Moira. Oliver stepped between us, nudging me back a few paces with a firm hand and shooting me a warning glance.
“Your eyes are glowing purple, Lucy, and unless you want shit to hit the fan with you-know-who, and everyone else, rein it in. You’re lucky your disguise works, or it wouldn’t just be purple Moira and everyone else would see.
And if she found out what you are, I can guarantee she’d use it against you to benefit her. Stop playing with fire,” he whispered.
It probably wouldn’t be a good time to comment back that I wanted to play with ice, not fire. But Oliver had a point. I ground my nails into my skin, needing the pain to stuff the anger back in its cage. “She makes it hard.”
He snorted. “Oh, I know. She’s a bitch. But one we have to listen to.” He grabbed my shoulder, ducking down to look me in the eye. “When you fight with Theon, you can’t show anything but the flames in your eyes, you know that, right? ”
“I have control, Oliver. And the majority of angels I’ve interacted with have difficulty keeping their power out of their eyes.”
His face scrunched in an odd way I didn’t like. “You aren’t part of the majority, Luce. There is only one of you, which means you have to be more careful.”
“Move, recruits!” Moira snapped.
I squeezed Oliver’s hand. “Don’t worry about me. I have control.”
Oliver huffed and mumbled as he left, “Someone’s got to.”
Walking over to Theon, I tried my best to keep the dread off my face, which was hard when his eyes sparkled with the promise of pain. I was weak. He knew it. They all knew it. They all saw how much we lifted and how far we could run. They abused us for our slow time every day.
“Ready, weakling?” Theon asked, adopting a fighting stance.
“Very original. Bet that took a lot of brainpower to come up with,” I said, mirroring his stance and enjoying the way his smile flattened. “I suppose not every elite member of Hell’s military needs to be intelligent.”
Theon swung at my face, surprising me with his speed, and I dodged it.
His eyes widened—and he wasn’t alone. I hadn’t expected to react so quickly.
He threw a combination at me, and I ducked and pivoted away from each punch.
I beamed. I may have lost most of my muscle, but I hadn’t lost the muscle memory of sparring with my mom.
For once, I had the slightest bit of hope.
I flicked my attention to the figure standing behind Theon, and my hope grew. Alexei stood on the sidelines watching. He wasn’t the general, but he was the next best thing. If I impressed him, the general would have to notice me. And if they ranked me, I would gain the general’s favor.
Theon’s nostrils flared. Whether from my comment or the fact that he hadn’t knocked me out yet, I didn’t know.
“Did I hit a nerve? What, the Powers thought you were too insignificant for their games, so you had to crawl to Hell to find someone who’d tolerate you?
” He didn’t have any apparent soul wounds, but he could’ve died and become a redeemed soul, earning back his power and healing his wounds, or he was blood-banded.
His pale face flushed, almost matching the brightness of his hair, and he flew at me.
I twisted out of the path of his fists, only to have him come at me faster.
My body knew what to do before my mind could catch up.
I weaved to the side and snuck through his guard, sending a hook into his ribs.
It connected, and a full-blown smile took over my face, teeth and all.
Theon stumbled back, more from shock than my weak punch, I assumed.
Veins bulged in his arms and neck, his fists clenched white-knuckled, and his glare could’ve killed.
He had no idea I could fight. He probably thought I’d be out cold by now.
Hell, I wasn’t sure my body even remembered how to hold up after all this time.
His weight shifted forward, and suddenly I was fifteen again, standing in our yard as my mother forced me to study every subtle shift and twitch in her body, to anticipate how she’d strike.
I let him close the distance. He lunged, and I pivoted to the side, kicking in his knee.