Page 2 of Wings of Death

Whether or not it was against the rules, I wouldn’t have been able to use my powers anyway. I tug my arm bands off and shove them into my bag. “It sucks. Why can’t I harness my powers?”

They both glance at one another before Lacinda pulls me into her side, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

“Hey, they’ll come. Don’t overthink it. Everything happens for a reason. Now come on.” Lacinda steps back and ties her thick, fiery-red curls up into a ponytail. “Why don’t we head out to the forest and practice?”

“Sure,” I say, and we make our way toward the exit.

I’m lucky to have these two. They always know what to do to cheer me up. Like the time I spilt my hot tea all over myself in front of everyone and was the laughing stock of the academy forthe day. So they both spilt their drinks on themselves to take the heat off of me.

Or when I fell down the steps into the corridor and twisted my ankle, they snuck into my quarters that night and we flew up to the roof to hang out and binge on treats. Yeah, they’re pretty amazing friends.

Astelle hovers near the door, surrounded by girls as she twirls her blonde hair around her fingers, eating up all the attention. She can never get enough of it. Her eyes catch mine, and her smile vanishes, replaced by the icy glare I’m used to.

Astelle has always hated me. Our father, Harlum, loved my mother more than anything. From what I understand, more than her mother, Hethenos, his second wife. Having multiple wives is common for the King.

Once I was born, I was the apple of his eye. He even allowed me to take his last name, Quinn. Astelle didn’t get the same courtesy, though, and her mother, Hethenos, had been furious. Hethenos despised my mother, so I’ve been told. After my mother was murdered, her jealousy and anger transferred on to me. Seems it’s a hereditary trait.

“Zarla, it’s a pity your mother’s not around anymore. I’m sure she would have enjoyed watching you fight.”

There’s a hint of amusement in her words, and I halt in my tracks. Really? Classic Astelle showing her true colours. It wouldn’t dispel her fanbase though. No matter what she did, they stuck to her like a bad smell.

“That’s low, Astelle, even for you,” Lacinda says.

I hurry out of the arena as tears sting my eyes. She is the last person I want to see me cry.

Someone grabs my arm, and I spin around to face my father’s first guard, Amaros.

He lets go as I wipe my eyes. Damn tears.

“I’ll catch up with you guys soon,” I tell Lacinda and Demetros.

“You sure?” Lacinda hesitates. “We can wait.”

I adjust my bag on my shoulder. “No, you guys go. I’ll be out soon.”

They give me a nod and disappear outside.

Amaros studies my face. “You’re hurt.”

I touch my lip, tracing the cut. “It’s nothing.”

His focus shifts to something behind me, and anger flashes in his features for a moment, but it’s gone before I can be sure.

Giggling steals my attention as Astelle and her posse walk out of the Arena.

“Amaros,” she says with an annoying high-pitched voice.

“Astelle,” he replies, before returning his attention to me.

I roll my eyes as they giggle and round the corner.

“You should get that cut addressed with the healers.” He steps forward, cupping my cheek while gently brushing his thumb over my lip.

I wince, taking a step back as his hand falls from my face. “I’m fine,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

The last thing I want to do is confide in my father’s overpowering guard. I have had to deal with my father’s guards my entire life. Although I don’t have my own guards, they’ve always been there, overstepping, making me feel like a caged animal.

“I can have a word with the Master if you wish. He shouldn’t allow that sort of behaviour. You could have easily won that fight, had it been fair.”

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