Page 27 of Wings of Lies (Daughter of the Seven Circles #1)

His lips pursed into a hard line. A deafening silence charged the air between us until he let go of my chin and picked up my sandwich, pressing it against my lips.

“Bite.”

“No.”

“Lucille.”

“Aspen.”

He flinched. I grimaced, hating myself for the slip-up. He wasn’t anything but a cold asshole, taking me against my will. I bit the sandwich then, hoping to take off his fingers. To my disappointment, my teeth only grazed them, sending a jolt I wasn’t expecting into my lips.

I jerked back at the same time he did. The large mouth of food was hard to chew. Eventually, it sank like a tasteless lump in my stomach as we glared at each other.

Satisfied, Aspen brought forward his hidden jangling hand. I broke our glaring match as I took in the sight of a pair of black metal cuffs.

“You’re not putting those on me.”

“And since when did you think you had a choice?”

I hated him .

“Do you ever tire of the constant arrogant mask you wear? Or have you been wearing it so long you forgot what it’s like not to be a princely asshole?”

With the cuffs in hand, he dropped to my ankles. “These won’t electrocute you, but in exchange, they suppress everything but your healing,” he said, unphased by my insult. “You won’t be able to feel your powers or melt them off like the last ones. These cuffs only come off by key.”

“Don’t put them on me. Please.”

I needed to practice my powers and learn how to control my dream-walks. I also needed to find my mom and then escape.

My Glory woke up from my panicked thoughts, poking me.

Aspen’s eyes flashed, like my begging pissed him off. “You should never have come to Elora.”

“Aspen,” I pleaded.

Before my Glory could surge and I could use it against him, he tore open the cuffs and hastily snapped them onto my ankles, brushing the sliver of my skin exposed between my pants and socks. My Glory vanished, and tingles skittered up my legs from his touch.

“Put your boots on, and let’s go,” he demanded. But his demand seemed guilty and painful. Yet, I didn’t gather that from his tone and couldn’t see his expression. So why did I think that? Before I could analyze his face, he luscelered out the door.

I clanked my way down the hall, taking small steps to prevent pulling on my stitches, feeling more like a prisoner than ever.

Hana was in the kitchen washing a pan. She glanced up at the noises of my chains, yellow pupils narrowing. “He wasn’t always like this,” she said .

But it didn’t matter what my princely jailor used to be or that he had moments where he may be one percent less of a terrible person. He was still an asshole, bastard, and every other curse word. I glared at the black metal around my ankles—and I was still his prisoner.

“Thanks for saving me,” I said, bitter.

“Don’t give up, Lucille,” she whispered.

Ignoring her comment, I touched my frizzy waves. “Do you have anything to keep my hair out of my face?”

After putting my hair up with a rubber band and bobby pins, my ankle cuffs dragged along the threshold, quieting when I walked out onto the grass.

The soft clinking turned to a harsh clanking when I hit gravel.

I stumbled as my chains caught on rocks, righting myself before I face-planted.

When I looked up, I saw my absolute favorite angel.

Brock stood at the front of an upgraded carriage, and by upgrade, I mean less boxy with a fancy paint job and two small windows instead of one, but it still appeared old and rickety. He met my glare with a cocky lift of his mustache and a smug glimmer in his pink eyes. “Nice cuffs.”

My fingers twitched, wanting to flip him off.

But I wasn’t feeling another injury just yet.

I trudged to the back of the carriage. Cacus and Bael, the demon grenades, were already huddled inside.

Dreading the pain I’d soon feel, I placed my hands on the wooden ledge.

Before I pushed myself up, a hand grabbed my shoulder.

“You won’t be back there.”

I turned to glare, quite done with Aspen’s touches. Not understanding my clear as day back the hell up eyes , Aspen continued to grip me firmly. The tingling sensation hid behind my barrier of clothing .

“Did you hear me?” he asked . “I want you in front with Brock. It won’t jostle your stitches as much. You’ll be in less pain despite the company.”

“Are you going to let go of me so I can move up front?”

He let go, only to grab my wrists. His stupid hands tingled against my skin, and it felt good. The tingles always felt good, and I hated that just like I hated his gentle hold.

I pulled, trying to get away. He dropped my unwrapped wrist to rub at the stubble on his jaw but didn’t let go of the other. “Is it feeling better?” he asked.

Out of all my wounds, my wrist gave me the least bit of pain.

“Stop acting like you care.”

His expressionless stare narrowed, and he let go of my broken wrist. I met his irritation with a smug smile. Holding his gaze, I found his purple ring, which told me he was part angel and one other.

It was the color of the sky right before the sun disappeared behind the horizon—a dark cobalt sitting next to a deep purple.

If I cared enough, I may have asked him what it meant. Instead, I left to climb into the carriage. My jangling links caught on each step, making me grind my teeth. At least I had a cushioned seat.

Brock clicked, urging the horses on with the reins.

Golden light shone through the trees as we moved, signaling early dawn.

Rays swallowed up the leaves. The dew-covered forest shimmered like faceted jewels.

Hundreds of specs of light reflected on my skin, and not only my skin, but Brocks, and the horses.

All around us golden rays reflected and refracted. It was breathtaking and otherworldly.

It was the first glimpse of the Elora I had hoped to see when I first arrived .

But now, it was difficult to care about the beauty.

“It’s called Aurum Forest. It’s a word for gold. The name’s pretty explanatory at this time of day,” Brock stated.

I ignored him.

“Take it in now. It’ll be the last pleasant thing you’ll see.”

“Ah yes, your bitch queen.” I mirrored his goading tone, hoping to rile him up.

To my surprise, Brock laughed. His throaty laughter shook his long gray beard. “I hope you didn’t say that to the prince.”

I glared. That wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for. “I did indeed.”

His laughter stopped, bushy eyebrows shooting into his hairline. “The prince doesn’t take kindly to insults to his queen.”

No kidding. The almost sword to the throat and flaming blue eyes weren’t a dead giveaway or anything. But that didn’t mean I was going to stop. They both deserved every insult I had.

“Where is this horrid queen of yours?” I asked.

Brock took his time answering. Clip clops and jangling chains stole my attention until he spoke. “The capital Deava. Most likely tearing apart the last couple of prisoners we gave her.”

“Tearing apart, how?”

A gruesome smile lifted his mustache as his eyes transitioned to a blood red.

“I’ve never seen what’s done. You’d have to ask the prince.

I only clean up the aftermath.” He rubbed the red beads decorating his beard, looking thoughtful.

“She’s pretty gruesome to her victims. Her pit is a mess of limbs and torn bodies.

It’s almost full. After she discards you, we’ll have to make arrangements to clear it out. ”

I stared at him, taking in his apathetic words. My fate was to be discarded and left to rot on top of a pile of shredded bodies ?

“So how much longer do I have with my pitiful life?” I asked, glancing down at my cuffs.

“Three days. Two until we hit the boundary line.”

“Boundary line?”

He focused back on the road. The carriage creaked and groaned as it moved across the rough ground. “Separates her kingdom from The Divide.”

Two days until I was in her impenetrable land. Two days to figure out how to unlock my cuffs, practice my powers, dream-walk, and escape.