Page 65 of Wings of Lies (Daughter of the Seven Circles #1)

This was the renowned Prince of the Mother of Demons?

The color of his power intrigued and confused me. Seraphim flames were almost as rare as my shadows. And on a bonded sword, no less. But those were the only two impressive things about him, especially since he couldn’t be a Seraphim .

“Did you do that to her?” Blood pooled on the table, dripping to the discolored cement.

I couldn’t shake off the amount. If he caused this, I knew without a doubt the king would want me to make him beg before I broke his mind.

And I didn’t mind that thought at all. My shadows whirled around me, excited for their next fix.

His eyes flashed to a deeper blue. “No.”

“The Archangel?”

“Michael,” he spat as flames heightened on his sword.

Fuck. I should’ve chased him down.

He glared at me and my silence. “Who the hell are you? Are you just going to hide behind your shadows like a coward?”

Oh, the queen’s pet had an attitude. “Don’t bait me, pet.”

“What did you call me?” He lifted his sword in a shaky hand and stepped toward me. I snorted. I needed two openings. One to knock the prince out and slit his throat, and one to retrieve the female.

“A pet. That’s what you are,” I stated. It may be an insult, but it was the truth. There were many stories about the prince back home.

He took another step, flames flickering on his blade, and then fell to both knees, sword clattering to the ground. “Lucille,” he cried, voice breaking.

Again, this was the formidable Prince of the Tenebrous Kingdom?

I walked closer to him, still hidden from view.

“No, no. Please, no,” he repeated, gathering the female in his arms. “Lucille.” He rocked her limp body. “Lucille, stay with me.” He bowed his head into her neck, murmuring into her skin. “Please. Stay with me. Let me give you the moon. You need to live. For your mom.”

The tears in his voice stayed my hand for a moment. The Prince of the Mother of Demons cared for her.

“For me,” he whispered .

“The shadows won’t kill her.” Why was I consoling him? Maybe it was the fact that this supposedly deadly male was reduced to a pile of tears just because I knocked out the female he cared for. My shadows could sense her heartbeat. Although it was slow, she lived.

The pet leaned his face close to her ear, foolishly ignoring my proximity. “It’s fading, Lucille. I can feel it fading. Please fight. Please.”

I tilted my head, staring at the two of them.

There was something I was missing. But I didn’t have the time to figure it out.

Pulling at my shadows, I formed another ball, throwing it at his back.

The pet fell backward, bringing the unconscious female with him.

My lip curled in disgust. I reached behind my head for the hilt of one of my short swords, craving to spill his blood when the female convulsed.

First the female, then the pet.

I crouched on the floor, gently rolling her off him. I removed the sheathed knife from her waistband and froze at the sight of the dark blade. Tsal-mawet. The blade used to saw off the king’s wings. The dark blade had been lost for centuries. Where did she find it?

Sliding it between my belt and waist, I scanned the gashes on her arms and legs.

They steadily bled, but nothing looked life-threatening.

Her healing must’ve helped with that. But why was she convulsing?

I placed my fingers on her pulse and jerked back.

Her skin was unbearably hot, yet she didn’t sweat.

A shot of alarm that wasn’t my own overpowered my concerns. Rune.

Someone was coming.

I expanded my shadows, covering up the female before I picked up her jerking body. Her heat penetrated the thick fabric of my fighting leathers. I shot a glance at the pet with clenched teeth, then strode for the door. Only to be blocked by the Nephilim.

Huh. He lived.

He panned from the pet to my shadows. “What the hell happened to him, and where is Lucy?” he demanded, emeralds turning to green fire.

“The female is in my arms, Nephilim. Consider your deal complete. He has requested your return.”

His reaching hand paused. Lucky for him. “You work for that male?”

“I’m his general. I’ve come to collect you.

We—” The female whimpered in my arms. My shadows swarmed toward her cuts, absorbing her blood.

I didn’t command them to; they just did it.

But my surprise was short-lived. In our cloud of darkness, red seeped out of her nose, and pain creased her eyes, pink tears squeezing through her closed lids.

“What the hell are you doing to her?” The Nephilim took a step forward. My shadows whipped out in threat while still covering us.

“Nothing.” Yet. As she writhed in my arms in agony, bleeding from her nose, eyes, and limbs, I made a decision. If he ever found out, I’d most likely be a dead male, but if I didn’t… I’d probably still be a dead male.

This was the only way if he wanted her to live.

Pushing the rest of my doubts away, I brought my shadows to my mouth, tasting the blood they absorbed. Straight sunshine and sin tingled my tongue, weakening my knees. I’d never tasted anything like her. The addictive spice that lingered at the back of my throat spoke of power .

What the hell was she? The tangy, warm sunshine flavor I knew, but the rest?—

She convulsed harder, taking me out of my thoughts of her blood. Instantly, I dove into her mind, berating myself for getting distracted. I never got distracted.

The moment I entered her mind, I knew two things.

One, they lied to me. And two, she was seconds away from death.

Her mind felt like the heat of a thousand suns. If her body became any hotter, no matter what kind of power she had, she’d die.

I sent a shot of shadows into her brain, using them to nullify some of her pain receptors and bring down her internal temperature, hoping that’d help long enough to get her to a healer.

“Hey! I’m speaking to you, Shadow-boy!” the Nephilim yelled.

“What!” I snapped. We needed to move.

“What are we going to do about the prince and…?” He pointed at Saraqael.

I wished I could taste his blood and tear his mind apart before I ran a blade across his neck, removing one more pet from her arsenal. But the female in my arms was my top priority. The king would want me to save her before killing him.

“He gets to live another day. Lucky him.” I moved, then snapped. “Grab Saraqael.”

“Hey, where are you going? She’s unconscious! What makes you think I can pick her up? Wait!”

I didn’t wait.

My nerves were tickling the fabric of reality near my wings. They itched to pop back into existence. I signaled to Rune, waiting for her bounding black form. She came a minute later, running at a full sprint .

A flash of silver flew by my head. I couldn’t stop the dagger; my hands were full, and my shadows were busy protecting the female in my arms. Not that a little dagger would do much damage to a hound nearly the size of a horse.

Rune snapped her head to the side, grabbing the dagger before it hit her.

“That’s your ride,” I growled back at the Nephilim, happy to see he brought up Saraqael. “Don’t hurt my hound, or I’ll let her devour you.”

“You own a Hellhound?” the Nephilim panted, sounding both intrigued and hesitant.

“She’s a Soulhound.” I dropped my shadows and brought forth my wings.

“They’re extinct…” he trailed off, eyeing my wings like he eyed my hound. Then, he caught sight of the female. “Holy shit. Is she going to live?”

“I don’t know,” I said, really hating that answer, feeling a seed of fear. She had to survive. The king needed her. The Nephilim needed her to survive his Ligamen Rune. And now… I needed her, too, which surprised me most of all.

They fucking lied to me.

“Get on the Soulhound. She’ll take you to the gates. We don’t have long before they close. Hold on tight, and don’t you dare let Saraqael fall.”

Rune dropped to the ground, giving the Nephilim permission to climb on. He was tall, so he wouldn’t have to climb much. I grimaced at the way he wiggled and dragged up Saraqael’s body. But at least we got them both, and she would never remember.

Before I took flight, I had one more question. “Did you kill Marcus? ”

He met my gaze. “No, he ran away.” The bitterness that laced his words matched the regret in his eyes.

I’d have to hunt him down and kill him later, just like the Archangel. I smiled at the thought.

“Rune, run fast. Stop for nothing. I’ll see you at the gates.” I pushed off the ground, spreading my ebony wings, and raced against time.

The wind battered our faces. Tapping into my dark well, I let my shadows form a small barrier between us and the wind, still allowing me to see ahead.

The female pressed closer into my body, freezing.

Initially, I thought it was the wind and the high altitude.

But when the pink in her cheeks bled away and blue tinged her lips, I dove back into her mind and put on a burst of speed.

My shadows played with her neurons, returning her to a stable temperature.

Still, I couldn’t hold it for long, especially when half my shadows acted against my will, deciding to cover each one of her gashes to protect them from the forceful air and soak up her blood like wispy bandages.

The landscape changed, becoming more jagged and white. We were close.

Pushing myself harder, we barreled through the twenty-foot iron gates, Rune right on our tail. The moment they slammed through, I left them and flew to the castle, landing on the balcony of the king’s office.

“Sir!” I yelled, not wanting to kick in his door. But I would.

Fortunately, he was there swinging the curtained glass open.

“You got her,” he whispered.

I held back my burning question about who she was to him. The female didn’t have the time. “Sir, something’s wrong with her.” My shadows covered most of her wounds for now. It’d only distract him, and they hardly bled because of my shadows and her healing.

“What do you mean?” His gaze raked up and down, narrowing on the dark wisps that slid across her skin.

I ignored his displeasure. “She’s been fluctuating in temperature. Burning hot, then frigid. And it’s getting worse.” I wasn’t about to tell him how I knew that. The shadows touching her were as much as he’d accept right now.

He lowered his brows, then thrust out his hand. “Her wrists. Give me her wrists.”

I did, pulling my shadows off her arms but still covering the gashes.

The king’s fingers lightly grabbed her hands, twisting. Her right wrist displayed inactive Binding Runes. I grimaced. Then he twisted her other wrist. Ice crackled against the stone balcony, and my shadows snaked around my palm and pressed into my eyes.

“Put her on my desk. Now.”

I rushed her over as the king threw everything to the ground.

“Release her from your shadows,” he demanded.

That was easier said than done. My shadows enjoyed protecting her before, but now… Now, they didn’t want to leave.

A fucking Reversal Rune.

“General Ronen! Your shadows!” Ice encased my boots, traveling to my knees.

I whipped my head up to the king and pulled at my defiant wisps, pulling harder than I should have to. They swarmed back to me, slamming into my core.

At the site of the female, the king’s pupils vanished into white. “Go to my vault. You know the code. Get my feather.” Icicles grew from the ceiling, and I knew he was using the rest of his control to keep them from erupting from the ground.

I luscelered there, grabbed it, and came back within seconds. The feather was pure white up until the very tip, unlike my ebony feather, which was stolen when they left me for dead. Heavenly feathers with the gift to give runes.

“Hold her down,” he commanded. “Counteracting a Reversal Rune will hurt.”

I placed my hands against her shoulders, and the king held her wrist steady. The moment the feather touched her skin, the female wrenched awake. With my shadows in her system, that shouldn’t be possible, but between her extreme pain and power level, this situation was anything but normal.

She wailed and shoved against my hold, nothing but skin and bones thrashing with little strength.

I avoided her strange eyes and glanced at the king.

I understood the fear and rage in his expression, but there was also a calculating look—one that threatened my shadows to come back out and attack the king I swore fealty to.

I made sure to keep them locked away. He was saving her life, nothing else.

Her screams died down after he removed the Reversal, and she passed out.

But she lived.

The king called for a cot and a healer. She’d be sleeping near him tonight. I didn’t like that either.

Fuck. This female was already messing with my head.

My question burned through me once more. It wasn’t my place, but I no longer cared after all this.

“Sir, who is she? ”

The king sank into his cushy chair, eyeing his work and all the wounds slowly mending themselves on her skin.

She’d still need stitches. My shadows surged, eager to seep through my skin and mend her wounds, yet I hesitated, bound by his command.

His fear of my shadows was shared by all and with good reason.

He nodded to the female. “Put pressure on her wounds until the healers come, general.”

My shadows burst forth, startling me with their force. They immediately covered every injury, both absorbing her delicious blood and keeping it inside.

The immortal king, perpetually appearing no older than thirty-five, now appeared as though he had aged a thousand years—his actual age catching up with him.

“I believe she’s my offspring, general. My—” he paused, like he was tasting the word. “Daughter.”

I don’t think I had enough curse words in the book for what he just said. “Your daughter?”

“Yes.”

“The test?” I asked, stunned. Now I understood what those words meant.

“She jumped into the Corruptible River and survived.”

Of course. Only the offspring of Hell could survive that river. And Seraphims, but they were too powerful to leave their sanctuary in the clouds.

I stared at the unconscious female in the cot.

The Princess of Hell was my cordistella.

The king could never know.