Page 39 of Wings of Lies (Daughter of the Seven Circles #1)

Chapter

Twenty-Four

I woke to fuzzy voices and a stinging in my ear.

“A few more minutes. If she doesn’t wake up, we’ll leave.”

“Whatever you say, prince. I’m just the backup.”

“Go corral Cacus and Bael from their joy hunt.”

Footsteps faded, and the pressure on my ear resumed. I winced, daring to peek through my lids.

Aspen knelt over me, focused on the side of my face and ear. I stared at him, refusing to shift against the lumpy ground, while he was oblivious to my awareness.

He pressed a cloth against my tender skin and used his other hand to wipe away dried blood.

“If I ask you a serious question, will you answer me with the truth or lie to me?” he asked, continuing to tend to my ear.

So much for being oblivious.

I stayed silent.

He shook his head. “The Drune didn’t do this to your ear. ”

“That’s not a question.”

He slowly met my gaze, intense and drilling. “This is a clean cut. Done by a knife.”

“Those aren’t questions either.”

“Brock did this to you.”

Well, he may be deadly, arrogant, and ruthlessly loyal to a terrible queen, but he wasn’t dumb.

“Lucille did Brock do this to you?” he demanded.

“Does it matter?” I sat up, making him push back.

Soon, I’d be rotting in a body pit. That was if I didn’t escape.

I stared into his face and let him hear the bluntness of my thoughts. “I don’t know who you were before or what other confusing, contradictory memories I’ve forgotten. But I’m glad they’re gone. I’ve had enough of your flavor of caring. ”

He lapsed into silence, gazing at me with a pissy expression. His chin strobed with a red light until it held firm to a soft, menacing glow.

Standing, I swayed, my exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Aspen's tense stance hinted at an internal struggle as he battled conflicting emotions. Eventually, the red glow subsided, and he stepped forward to steady me. I recoiled, pushing him away.

“I don’t need or want your help.”

His chiseled jaw tightened like a vise, each muscle visibly straining under the weight of his mounting irritation. “We’re leaving. Brock!” he called out. “I’m driving, and our prisoner is sitting next to me.”

Wonderful .

I sighed, plopping myself down up front, emotionally and physically drained. Aspen took his place. The carriage wobbled, the back doors shut, and the horses moved.

He ignored me. I ignored him to concentrate on my power.

When I was angry, the energy coiled at the surface, making itself known through the itches.

But now, I had to concentrate and dive deep to find the coiling power.

It hummed faintly. I tried to pull at it, but my eyes drooped with the effort.

I released it. Whatever I did earlier had taken a lot out of me.

Those black flames were something else entirely, and the music—the addictive, vengeful melody—consumed every thought and action.

If not for the drain, Aspen and I would’ve fought to the death.

I wouldn’t have stopped. I wanted to kill him.

Guilt, anger, joy—none of it sparked at that thought.

Only numbness remained until the lingering effects of this drain faded.

We drove through the Drune Forest into a field of long golden grass. Its metallic strands reflected in the beating sunshine, brushing away the moist, cool air of the lightless forest. I just reached my hand out, slightly curious if they’d feel metallic. But nope, the softness tickled my palm.

I leaned my head back against the wooden planks of the carriage, peering up into the clear blue sky. Two black specs flew high above.

“Why don’t we eat birds for a change?” I pointed, curiosity loosening my lips.

Aspen yanked on the horse’s reins, jerking them to a stop, about knocking me out of my seat. “Those aren’t birds.”

“Then what?—”

“Brock! We got company,” Aspen called out.

The doors to the back of the carriage slammed open. With the lack of side-to-side swaying, it seemed the demons were staying inside .

“Do not speak, understood?” Aspen said, taking off his cloak and handing it to me. “Cover yourself.”

I stared at his outreaching hand and dangling cloak, wondering what would happen if I didn’t, gazing back at the sky. The black specs were larger and coming fast.

“Lucille!”

I snapped my attention back to him and rolled my eyes, putting it on.

Two loud resounding booms echoed in the field, causing a cloud of dust. Once it cleared, one man and woman—or male and female—sauntered over to us. Aspen stepped down the stairs of the carriage, blocking me from view, while Brock stood off to the side.

“Look what we have here, Milda. I told you it’d be entertaining to see who was with this carriage.”

I peered around Aspen, wanting to see who spoke. He looked to be in his thirties, not that that meant anything, with short golden hair and smooth, tanned skin—average. What wasn’t average was the armor they wore and the female standing next to him.

She stood tall, covered in the palest blue, almost white, colored armor.

Silver rivets held together each tiny piece of metal that made up the body-hugging uniform.

Red corkscrews tumbled behind her head, held back by intricate braids.

The vibrancy of the color melded well with the deep caramel of her face, her ruby lips, and the three red-hilted daggers at her side.

“Yes, Brocky boy seems to have aged since we last saw him. And we get the attractive, worthless demon prince to add to the disappointing Fallen scum,” she tittered.

“So nice to see you, General Tavean and Colonel Milda,” Aspen said, sounding the least bit amused by her condescending tone .

Colonel Milda approached him, poking him in the chest. “Does that scowl ever come off your face, Prince Aspen? Or do you need help with that?” The salacious tilt to her ruby lips screamed desperate.

A bolt of bitter jealousy spear-headed through my drained state—a feeling I did not like.

“Remove your hand before I do it for you, colonel,” Aspen said as he gripped the pommel of his sword.

But she didn’t remove her hand. No. She dared to place her entire palm on his chest.

“Oh, no, no, prince. We wouldn’t want to start a war, would we? Not with your queen a prisoner to her own land. We’d slaughter you.” Her words may have been a warning, but the eager gleam in her purple-ringed eyes told me she wanted war.

Aspen’s spine stiffened. “Back up, Milda.”

“Oh, dropping my fancy new title so soon?” she pouted.

I hope she didn’t think that was cute.

“Don’t test me, Milda. Back up,” Aspen warned.

But the foolish female didn’t.

“Milda, let the poor defenseless prince go. We are here for a job, you know,” Tavean said, moving closer.

“Oh, but I think the prince needs some fun,” she said, rubbing the stiff leather covering his chest.

My eyes zeroed in on that hand. “Remove your gaudy nails,” I snapped, glaring over Aspen’s shoulder.

Milda jerked her gaze to mine, still touching him.

“Who do you have behind you, prince?” Tavean asked. He leaned to the side to get a better view.

Aspen shifted, finally side-stepping her unwanted touch, blocking me from Tavean’s view but opening more space for Milda to scrutinize me, especially my eyes. Before I could duck my head, she smiled. “Oh Tavean,” Milda sang. “I think I found who we’ve been looking for.”

“Fuck!” Aspen snapped, pulling out his sword before either one could grab me.

The metal erupted in vicious blue flames, pushing Milda and Tavean back.

“Guard Lucille, if something happens to her, the queen will kill you, and if she doesn’t, I will.

” Then he swung his flaming sword at Tavean and sent a fireball at Milda’s face, forcing them back further.

Heavenly shit.

Brock took Aspen’s place as he faced off against the two angels.

I glanced up into the darkening sky. Thunder boomed with the first clash of sword on sword, snapping my attention back to Aspen.

This fight was different from the one with the Hellhounds.

All three luscelered, dodging each other’s swords and daggers.

Lightning shot down, hitting the spot where Aspen last stood.

Aspen smirked at Milda.

She shrieked. More lightning streaked to the ground, each flash hitting the previous spot Aspen stood in.

Why is the Tenebrous Prince fighting a Power and Dominion from the Ethereal Military for you?

I jolted at his chilly voice, surprised to hear his voice in my head while awake.

Can you see what I see?

Yes, while we’re connected. Why do they want you? he demanded.

I don’t know. But I wondered if I’d be better off with them since they were angels .

He scoffed in my head. You wouldn’t. You’d be a prisoner in a different kingdom I couldn’t help you escape from. Now turn your head to the left, he said.

I did.

Do you see that path past the field and in the trees?

Yes.

A little further in is the Tenebrous tripwire.

Why does that matter?

I’m getting you out of your mess. The angels won’t take you if you cross it.

Why?

It’s a declaration of war.

I stared at the path. It wasn’t too far away, but it wasn’t near either.

The only problem you face is you need the prince with you to cross it, he said.

I glanced at Aspen right when two daggers slipped from his belt, and two more daggers flew from Tavean’s hands toward his face.

“Behind you!” I called out at the same time Brock yelled, “Telekinetic bastard!”

Aspen blocked the first two daggers with his sword and dogged one of the ones hovering in the air, only to be stabbed in the side by the fourth.

How do I accomplish that when he’s busy fighting?

They’re fighting over you. So take yourself out of the equation and sneak to the tripwire first. Then play your hand.

Afterward, stay with the prince, and I’ll help you escape tonight.

Hopefully, I’ll have answers about Saraqael by then.

If not, I’ll at least have other answers you seek, he finished.

His icy presence faded, giving me back my warmth and a difficult task.