Page 37 of Wings of Darkness (Daughter of the Seven Circles #2)

Chapter

Twenty-Two

LUCILLE

F inding Oliver in formation, I slid up next to him and gave him an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t acknowledge me, and I couldn’t take it anymore. For the last two days, he’d been avoiding me, not stepping foot in our bedroom and ignoring me at every turn.

“Oliver.” I reached out and touched his arm.

Moira opened the door, and he jerked out of my hold, running ahead.

I caught up to him, and he continued to suffocate me with his silence.

Of course I expected him to be hurt, but I figured an apology would be enough to remedy his cold shoulder.

He had to know I didn’t mean what I said.

I was just frustrated—with the general, our progress, and his cheating.

I couldn’t voice that part now, though, not as my breaths turned ragged and my lungs struggled for air.

Oliver slowed to a walk .

“No stopping,” I heaved, waving him on.

He didn’t respond, keeping his gaze on the winding road ahead as if I weren’t there.

But I couldn’t stop for him. He knew that. And he was using it against me to get away.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and continued without him, blinking rapidly to clear the sting from my eyes.

The Tormentors soon lapped me, their mocking shouts echoing down the slushy road.

I kept them in sight as best I could, pushing myself through the pain.

At five miles, my body screamed for a break.

Numbness crept into my feet, and my vision fuzzed.

A part of me knew I should stop, but an invasive urgency shoved the instinct aside, pressuring me to continue.

In one blink, my legs gave out, and I slammed my head into the gravel.

When I came to, something pressed against my neck. I blinked away the frost from my lashes and found Oliver’s face.

“Oliver?” I said, forcing myself up, ignoring the pain in my skull. “Heavenly Hell, I passed out again, didn’t I?”

He crossed his arms.

I stood, brushing my forehead and wincing when my fingers came away bloody. “Thanks for staying with me. Does this mean you forgive me?”

He raised a brow, snorted, then jogged away.

I sighed and jogged after him.

The next few miles were brutal, each step heavier than the last. My limbs dragged, and I stumbled and zigzagged more than I ran straight. Oliver stayed in sight, but he never once looked back. Even when I approached the hill, he continued, leaving me to struggle up it like he’d said he would.

I bit my lip to stop it from trembling, squared my shoulders, and forced myself to jog the final two miles.

Oliver entered the arena, and nausea slammed into my stomach.

I tried to hold it back; I only had a few yards left.

But it bubbled up and out, splashing onto the snow just as another squad bulldozed through the arena doors.

“Oh, lookie here, it’s the Hell-whore,” a male sneered before kicking the backs of my knees and shoving me to the ground.

I hit the snow hard, catching myself on my hands and narrowly avoiding my puke. My fingers closed around a jagged lump of ice. I’d made it so easy for him to knock me down. Practically wore a sign that said Weak. Doesn’t belong. Punish her .

And they would.

I’d already seen one Bowel member try to murder a Trencher just to take their spot. But even with my nausea, spinning head, and ragged breaths, that wasn’t going to be me.

I’d fight.

Their laughter echoed as their boots pounded away.

“Should’ve slit her throat, Dusty,” one of them called over the wind. “Could’ve gotten your spot back.”

Surprised they left, I pushed to my feet and released the ice. My wary glare tracked Dusty and his friend as they jogged down the hill.

“And have the general’s Soul Sword at my neck? No thanks.” Dusty scoffed.

So the general’s spectacle didn’t just stop Theon; it made everyone else hesitate too. No wonder Oliver and I hadn’t had more attempts on our lives .

“She must give him good head.”

Good head?

“Either that or she’s fucking the king,” Dusty added, his voice fading as they ran.

They thought I?—

“Gah.” I gagged and shoved open the doors before I could puke again at the thought.

Inside, the air warmed, filled with shouting, slapping skin, and clanking metal—a cacophony of violence and skill. I walked over to the Tormentors, keeping my eyes trained on Oliver. He glanced up from his weights but quickly looked away, offering me nothing—not a nod, not a word.

Fine.

After strength training, before Ni led Oliver to their station, my gaze flicked to her neck.

Her red gash still gaped and shone with mucus, but there was no sign of black infection.

Maybe the doors had shown what Ni’s neck used to look like before it started healing.

But what purpose did it serve to show me the past?

Unless the image had been meant for Lucifer and his judgment.

A javelin flew through the air toward me, startling me out of my thoughts. I caught it two-handed and found Ichi gripping her own with her dainty hands. I opened my mouth about to question her, and in one fluid movement, she lifted her javelin, took a few running steps, then threw it.

The javelin sliced through the air and slammed into a bull’s-eye seventy meters away.

I gaped at her.

I think I had a girl crush .

I shouldn’t be surprised by her ferocity. But Ichi stood at least three inches shorter than me, with a small physique and solemn gaze. She didn’t have a hardened personality, nor a weak one—just a quiet, balanced presence.

What really made me second-guess her strength, despite countless training days, was her composed and respectful demeanor. Nothing about this military was soft-spoken or polite. Most of them were brutal, self-serving asses stronger than me.

But that didn’t make Ichi lessor. If anything, the way she carried herself was a testament to her resilience and power. I was sure she’d been mocked and mistreated by the other squads as she rose through the ranks.

“Your turn.” She nodded to me, a small smile softening her half-burned face.

I smiled back, unable to hide my awe. No one smiled around here—unless I counted the sneers or ignored the mockery behind them. Ichi was different. And I respected her more for it.

Focusing through the glare of sunlight, I mimicked her movements, hoping to impress her, only to stumble as I threw. The spear dropped halfway to the target, skidding across the ground.

When did it get so bright in here?

Ichi gestured at another javelin. “Again. Keep your grip firm, your core tight, and shift your weight to your front foot as you release—then maintain your balance during the recovery.”

I threw again with her guidance and missed. She politely critiqued my form, then said, “Again.”

That was Ichi’s favorite word. She used it at least a hundred more times, only stopping when I finally nicked the target .

She’d get along well with my father.

“Good. Let’s move on to daggers.”

Throwing daggers would be easier. Or so I assumed.

It wasn’t. Even though the target was closer and the weight lighter, I struggled. And my stomach still churned with nausea.

Ichi showed me over and over what to do, and I still couldn’t get it right. Frustrated, I dug my nails into my palms when the dagger fell short.

“This isn’t working!”

Hands pressed against my stomach and back, straightening my spine. I knew who it was the moment I smelled the spicy scent of clove and balsam and felt the brush of shadow on my forehead.

The general brought his lips to my ear. “Maybe because you have a concussion, Hellion. Mind telling me what happened?” he whispered, his body rigid behind me.

“I fell.”

“During your run.”

It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer.

He reached around and grabbed my chin, tilting it back to meet his pitch-black irises. “You want to see me seething in my little boots ? Keep ignoring your limits, and you’ll get to experience it firsthand.”

“Oh? Is this another part of your job? Because last I checked, a concussion won’t kill me,” I snapped, attempting to jerk from his hold.

He squeezed tighter, his gaze boring into mine. “Don’t test me, Hellion.”

One of his shadows whipped out, tickling my nose.

My dizziness faded .

“Thank you,” I said, begrudgingly.

He gave a stiff nod, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “It’s not a cure. But it’ll keep your symptoms at bay until after training. Then you’ll go see Sam.”

I nodded, knowing there was no other response he’d accept, especially with shadows slithering around him, wrapping tighter with each sharp line of his body.

His eyes remained black, hiding the tempest of emotions swirling beneath the surface.

I had a feeling Rune would be accompanying me after training.

General Ronen closed his eyes, took a steadying breath, and walked to another group, observing them with Alexei.

What the hell was that about?

I shook my head and took the blade Ichi handed me, throwing it at the target. It hit. Not a bull’s-eye, but close. I repeated the motion, landing several solid throws, and felt a deep sense of gratitude for the general’s help.

Without the dizziness, I’d successfully completed a station.

At archery, I performed terribly until Ichi gave me a bow with a lighter draw weight. It made sense. My arm felt like it would fall off every time I pulled the string, and I still needed to build muscle. When we rotated to swordsmanship, I straight up said, “I can’t use my right arm anymore.”

She smiled and shrugged. “So use your left.”

Girl crush gone. She was a demon.

Unable to help myself, I glanced over at Oliver, pride warming my chest. He fared about as well as I did. Ni had him knocked to the ground, but as he glared up at her, his eyes lit with emerald flames. His hand twitched, as if about to touch her with a power he despised .

He was trying. Whether for me or his sister, I didn’t know, but it was a small step in the right direction.

Ni responded with a flaming finger, wagging it as if to say Oh no, you don’t. Oliver let the green flames dim.

“We don’t believe in using powers against fellow angels—unless absolutely necessary. We see no honor in it,” Ichi said.

Honor? I didn’t know anyone here even used that term.

“So you’ve never used it on your squadmates in the showers?”

Ichi watched Cyrus and Theon. “No. And because we refused to participate, Moira had us replace the two we were meant to punish. She ordered Cyrus to choke me with his vines. But before he could kill me, Ni retaliated. She blocked Theon’s water strike and scorched Cyrus with her flames—burned him without hesitation.

They underestimated us because of how we chose to live in death.

But they learned their mistake that day. ”

She turned to me with a solemn, determined expression. “My sister and I will pay our penance to be redeemed by participating in this military and her squad. But we will not add time to our sentence. You can always be recycled for your sins.”

“So you just stood up to Moira and that’s that?”

“Bullies can only bully you if they believe you’re too weak to retaliate.” She panned her gaze from my boots to my shirt. “I don’t believe you’re too weak, Lucy. So, may I ask what you’re hiding?”

I stiffened. But her honesty and warmth pulled at something deep within me, urging me to trust her. “Nothing I’m at liberty to share without getting myself in deeper trouble. ”

“Does it have anything to do with why you won’t use your powers? From the ring in your eyes, you’re at least part angel. So you must have them.”

“Yes.”

Respect glimmered in her grin, like she enjoyed that answer.

“Well, if you can’t prove your strength with power, let’s build your warrior skills. And when challenge week comes, you can challenge Moira.”

I’m sorry— what did she just say?

Stunned, I had no protest or retort as she handed me a sword.

Ichi was insane.