Page 19 of Wings of Death

Her brows draw together as her cheeks flush, and she drops her arm. “Nothing. What do you mean?”

I decide to leave it. Clearly, she’s not ready to tell me what’s going on. “Never mind,” I say instead.

Her gaze falls to my locket, and I stop her before she tries to touch it, remembering what happened to Demetros.

“It was my mother’s,” I say. “Someone left it on my bed with a note.”

Her mouth drops open. “Seriously? What’d it say?”

“Your mother’s murder was a lie.”

Her eyes widen. “What the hell does that mean?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure, but I’m going to find out.”

“What’s a lie?”

I jump at the voice in my ear and spin around to face Amaros. I stumble, but he grabs my arm to steady me.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says as his ice-grey eyes scan my face.

I blink, surprised at how close he is. And then I spot Astelle through the crowds across the room, her eyes focused on the two of us, and she looks pissed.

“Is something going on there?” I ask, gesturing to Astelle.

He lets my arm go. “No, of course not,” he replies, somewhat fidgety.

Despite his words, it’s pretty obvious that Astelle feels differently, judging by the way she’s looking at him. She likes him.

“So, what’s a lie?” he asks again.

I bite the inside of my cheek, unsure whether to tell him, but the way he’s looking at me leaves me feeling that I can trust him with this. I take his hand and lead him to the side of the room, where it’s quieter. His gaze drops to my mother’s locket.

“This was my mother’s,” I say, touching the locket. “Someone left it for me with a note in my quarters.”

Amaros’s expression changes in a flash, his eyes growing dark. “Someone was in your quarters?”

I’m surprised by his reaction. “Yes, I guess so.”

“What did the note say?”

I turn the locket in my fingers. “It said, ‘Your mother’s murder was a lie.’”

His brows knit together, and he rubs the side of his face. “That’s strange. Everyone knows an angel from Zarquon murdered your mother.”

I think that over for a moment. I have never really allowed myself to think about it because it hurts too much. But I’m starting to wonder about the details. How did they know an angel from Zarquon killed her? Had they caught the angel? I didn’t think so.

“How do we know that?” I ask, treading lightly.

He shuffles on his feet and leans against the stone wall, folding his arms across his chest. “How do we know what? That she was murdered?”

“No. I mean, how do we know it was an angel from Zarquon? Were there witnesses? Did the angel get caught? I haven’t ever really heard all the details.”

He reaches out and touches my arm. “Zarla, don’t let some unknown assailant trick you into thinking something different. We all know the truth, and yes, it’s a difficult thing to hear, but she was murdered. Let’s not scratch old wounds, okay? I don’t want to see you suffer unnecessarily through that pain.”

I can’t help but feel that he’s hiding something. But why? What would there be to hide?

“Can we drop it?” he asks.

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