Page 18 of Wings of Lies (Daughter of the Seven Circles #1)

I thought about refusing to leave the carriage, but the empty, enclosed space brought back memories of my cement closet.

So, I followed behind the things . Weak and unused to the weight of the chains, I tripped out of the carriage.

I squeezed my eyes shut and braced for another crack on my skull.

But before I could suffer another head injury, a shot of electricity hit my bicep, and my descent stopped.

What the hell was that?

I narrowed my gaze on the tingling hand.

“You know, you squeal like a little female,” Blue-eyes remarked.

Did he mean little girl ?

The sensation of skittering bugs replaced the odd tingles. “At least my face doesn’t look like one,” I said, cringing. That was the worst-timed impulsive comeback I’d ever said and a complete lie. I wished he looked like a little girl and not like some male model or handsome storybook prince.

His face turned cold, or colder, and he let go. The electricity and itch disappeared, and I landed in a painful heap on the ground, my left hip taking the brunt of the fall.

“Ouch.” Wincing, I lifted my torso, brushing off as much dirt and gravel as possible, which wasn’t much with my wrists locked behind my back.

Gravel dug into my tricep. Great, more scrapes and bruises.

I couldn’t brush it off, so I left it between my dirty, ripped skin, glaring at the stupid pebbles.

That annoying itch started back up, growing when I glared at my blue-eyed jailor, who had the audacity to smile smugly as he jumped gracefully to the ground. I wanted to grow claws like the beast unpacking our gear and wipe that smile off his perfect face.

I stood, looking around. White trees about two feet wide bordered the clearing, wrapping around us.

Their peeling peach flesh and golden leaves were similar to the trees I left on Earth.

The only difference was what hid underneath.

Instead of another layer of white or tan bark, iridescent scars reflected off the lowering sun.

Strange.

“Where are we?”

When I first got to Elora, it was night, which meant by the light shining through a cloudless sky, I had been knocked out for…

I didn’t know. Long enough for it to be afternoon again, but that could’ve been hours, days, a week.

Based on the state of my clothes, I assumed it was through the night and the better part of the day .

“Elora,” Blue-eyes said.

“Elora is the world. Where exactly in Elora are we?”

“She’s smarter than she looks,” Blue-eyes mocked, handing over supplies to the snickering monsters.

I gritted my teeth, catching a piece of my torn cheek that I always bit into. “Well?”

“Well, you better get used to disappointment. Your questions aren’t worth our answers, prisoner.”

Asshole.

I analyzed the five feet separating us and the iridescent birch tree line.

It’s not like they were paying attention.

If this was my only chance at escaping and finding my mom, so be it.

I was already cuffed. What more could they do?

Without a second thought, I ran. Before I sprinted all of three steps, my face slammed into a woolen cloak, and Graybeard shoved me to the ground.

He squatted, looking smug. Unguarded disdain pushed at his bushy eyebrows. “I’d refrain from making that mistake twice. Next time, I won’t be so nice,” he said, standing and walking back to the others. They carried wood, blankets, pans, and other odds and ends to the center of the clearing.

I yanked at my chains and yanked again. The metal cuffs dug into my bony wrists. That damned Nephilim!

Whether Oliver, his name made me sick, found me, or Marcus, I would have still ended up where I was now.

The little bit of freedom I had was an illusion.

I wrenched at the cuffs until warmth slid down my pinky finger.

Then, the itching came. Great. I didn’t need ice right now.

I needed my Glory, which meant I needed fear .

I closed my eyes and pushed my rage away with thoughts about my mom and what could be happening to her. The itching faded, replaced by poking and pressure.

That’s it. Come on.

My mom was always there for me. The pieces I remembered from my last dream-walk enforced that notion. And someone took her from me.

The poking turned to stabs.

“Meditating isn’t going to help you,” Blue-eyes called out.

I ignored him. The moment I melted these off, I would need to lusceler away.

What if someone was hurting her?

My Glory surged. Needles stabbed me, and a powerful shock jolted into my body. I screamed.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Scared and stubborn, I tried again, pushing past the pain. My Glory tried to erupt, and a larger bolt of electricity slammed into my body, locking up my muscles. I fell forward, about to faceplant into the ground.

Gravel crunched, and Blue-eyes caught my shoulders.

“Stop! The cuffs prevent the use of power through electric shocks.”

I stopped. But not because he looked ready to slit my throat if I didn’t. The electricity scrambled my thoughts, and I couldn’t take the pain.

Would I ever see my mom again?

Once he realized I could hold my torso up, he released me and stood. I vacantly stared at his black leather boots, refusing to test if my legs would hold me until the lingering vibrations left .

“What do you want from me?” I whispered, trying to hide the fact that my throat was tightening. His hand moved in my peripheries, latching onto something near his hip. I lifted my gaze an inch and saw the top of a sword.

Part of me thought it’d put me out of my misery, and another part bristled at my weakness.

“Probably nothing you’re thinking about right now,” he said, fingers flexing on the hilt.

If I had any energy left, I would’ve scoffed. He had no idea my thoughts were bringing me to a suffocating place. A place where rage, fear, and hope dug their own graves, hanging on by fraying threads.

I lifted my gaze, forgetting to hide my pain, as I stopped at his dark-lashed eyes.

“Then what?”

He released his hand from the pommel, crossing his arms. “I’m here to ensure you get where you’re supposed to go.”

“Which is where?”

Why did I have to sound like that? So… pitiful.

He stood there and watched me hunch in on myself, lying in dirt and gravel. Swallowing, I shoved down the tears threatening to spill and welcomed the distraction of a different sort. “I need to pee.”

“Brock will take you.”

As if signaled, the older man came around the corner of the carriage. Or that’s what I thought it was supposed to be. It was more like a dirty, run-down, wooden box on wooden wheels—a thing of the past, much like the clothes they wore.

“Brock,” I pushed the harsh syllable out of my mouth, testing it out. “And you are?” I didn’t care, but the more logical part of me figured it was best to know .

“Aspen,” he stated with something I couldn’t pinpoint in his expression. There was no similar inquiry, which was what I expected. I was a prisoner. My name didn’t matter.

Scar-faced Brock grabbed my bicep and led me away like the captive I was.

We walked into the forest of birch trees that were not birch trees.

If I ignored the iridescent scars, they reminded me of the forest I had camped in with—I cut off the thought.

I didn’t want to remember who caused this.

Not while a calloused hand now dug into my bare skin, shoving me on.

Each shove and stumble cut away at the little hope I had left.

“Here,” Brock pointed to a spot, moving in front of the tree to give me privacy.

If you called two feet privacy. Prisoner, I kept reminding myself.

I wouldn’t get the luxury of freedom or being more than a few feet from these—I still didn’t know what they were.

If they were in Elora, they couldn’t be human.

Angels, possibly, but I didn’t think to look that closely at their eyes.

Those other creatures, Cacus and Bael, weren’t angels.

But then, what were they? Monsters? Demons? Some other creature species?

Inch by inch, I tugged down my joggers with my cuffed hands. Luckily, they were loose and untied, or I would’ve had to ask for help or wet myself. At one point, Brock glanced back to see what had been taking so long, and I shot him with my fiercest glare. He sneered in reply.

The surrounding area had no chirping or skittering animals to interrupt the silence. Instead, we were left with the noise of my dribble and the crunching taps of Brock’s foot.

Paused in a crouch, I shook myself like a wet dog, deprived of the luxury of toilet paper. Just one more thing to be happy about as I struggled to inch my pants up. Before they reached my upper thighs, a hand latched onto my arm, yanking me away from the tree.

“Let’s go.” Brock shoved me forward. I tripped on my joggers, exposing more of myself. Mortified, I arched back to grab them, hurrying to pull them up, only to be shoved again. They fell to my hiking boots.

“Come on, put them on already,” he taunted.

The smile in his voice as he viewed my exposed privates twisted my stomach. My cheeks heated, and my throat tightened. The tears I tried so hard to hold back fell as I shimmied them up. Once they were in place, he continued his shoving, like I needed another reminder of how helpless I was.

“What do you want?” I cringed at the weak whine of my voice.

“Nothing.” Brock changed tactics, latching onto my arm, and dragging me behind him instead of shoving. The tip of my hiking boot caught onto a thin root, unbalancing me as Brock’s fingers pinched my skin, forcing me to regain my balance or be dragged.

“Then who does?” He stayed silent. “Who do you work for? Marcus? Are you a part of the Tenebrous Kingdom?”

“Seems you know more than Marcus ,”—he spat his name—“let on.”

“So, you work for Marcus?”

His fingernails dug into my skin, almost piercing through. “Never. Now shut up.”