Page 107 of Wings of Death

“What’s your name?” I ask.

I see the hesitation in his eyes under the glow of the moonlight.

“My name is Nilo,” he says.

“Is this a trap, Nilo? Is my father actually sick?”

“No, this is not a trap, and yes, he is sick,” he replies.

I pause and glance out over the ocean that separates the Kingdoms, wondering how long it’ll take us to get back to Silanthia. I was unconscious when Kyle made the journey with me, but I know my wings are strong enough to do it.

“Are you ready?” he quietly asks.

Placing my hand over my chest, which still feels like it’s tearing in two, I give him a simple nod. I’m right on the edge of abreakdown, but I have to contain myself. I’m not about to cry in front of this messenger angel.

We fly in silence through the night air away from Kyle’s Kingdom, despite every cell in my body wanting to turn back, and eventually reach the group of Silanthian guards who are hovering up ahead. I don’t recognise any of them, although it is dark, and my racing mind worries that maybe Kyle is right. This could be a trap.

But a couple of hours later, after we reach the Silanthian borders, I know it’s not. The guards lead me back to the castle, and we eventually land on the stone courtyard outside the main doors within the castle gates. There’s a heaviness in the air, and something feels off, but I can’t put my finger on it. I decide it’s probably just my paranoia at Kyle’s words.

The sun is rising on the horizon, covering the skies in red and orange hues, and I take a moment to enjoy it. I fill my lungs with a few deep breaths, preparing myself for the worst.

My father must be in a bad way for them to have sent a messenger angel to our enemy Kingdom to find me. I still don’t understand how that works. Perhaps there’s some sort of agreement between the Kingdoms when it comes to that.

“Zarla, I hate to rush you, but your father requested you be brought to him immediately.”

I face Nilo, who’s standing with his hands clasped together in front of him, and his eyes hold genuine concern.

“Okay, let’s go,” I say.

Several guards flank me as we head into the castle, while the others join a large array of guards positioned around the outside of the castle.

Confusion tugs my brows until I remember the explosion. Of course they will be on high alert after that. Gods above, Demetros. I have been so caught up in my own life I have barelythought about whether my friends were okay after the explosion. Surely they’re okay. They have to be.

We pass through the corridors of the castle, and I notice I’m being led to my father’s quarters. Devastation gnaws away at me, remembering my last words with Kyle. How could I have been so stupid, so cruel? He didn’t deserve that. Em is loving having me gone now, I’m sure. I brush the thoughts aside. I need to focus on my father now.

We reach his quarters, and I halt when I spot Amaros leaning against the double doors with his thick arms crossed over his chest. There’s an angel wing tattoo on his right forearm I haven’t noticed before. He glances over at me, and his eyes lock with mine before he quickly straightens up.

Nilo gives me a kind smile and joins the other guards who hang back, and I slowly walk to Amaros. I can tell right away he’s pissed, but there’s a mixture of relief in his eyes at my return. His gaze traces down my body, admiring my green gown, and he swallows hard.

“Hi,” I whisper.

He doesn’t answer right away and presses his lips together, as if waiting for me to say more.

“I had no choice, okay? I had to go with Kyle. Someone tried to blow up the ball, and Astelle stabbed me.”

His eyes widen, and he rushes forward and scans his eyes over my body. “She did what? Where? Are you all right?”

I raise a brow at him. “I’m fine now. Kyle’s healers helped me, and then I healed myself. She used some sort of lethal weapon, apparently.” I pause. “Zarquon is not as we were led to believe. They aren’t the enemy, Amaros.”

He drops his arms to his sides and sighs. “I’m sorry she hurt you. I will deal with her. But you’re playing with fire.”

I sense his walls are up again, and it bothers me how he does that. It’s probably for the best, though. Things tend to get a bit handsy when he lowers his guard and is vulnerable around me.

“Is my father really ill?” I question, still unsure if this is a trap.

His expression shifts, and the sorrow is clear in his features. He clasps his hands in front of himself and lowers his head slightly. “Yes. You should go in.”

I take in a deep breath, preparing myself for the worst. He needs to know about Hethenos, but that will depend on his health. I’m not about to bombard him with hard truths if he’s really unwell. I step toward the doors, and Amaros opens one for me to enter and closes it once I’m through.

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