Page 22 of Wings of Death

Fine, I hiss through the mind link.

The second watcher sees an opportunity and shoves me into the wall, pinning me with his body. He holds his sword to my neck, his breath warm against my cheek.

“Where’s the King?” he demands.

I struggle against his grip but manage to headbutt him, followed by an elbow to his cheek. He stumbles back and grits his teeth at me. His gaze drops to my locket again, and he looks to the other watchers.

“What are you waiting for? Take it!” the leader instructs him.

They want my mother’s locket? The same anger as before builds within me and my body shakes. I struggle to steady my breathing, but again, it’s as if I am no longer in control. The watcher rushes forward and reaches out to grab my locket, but curses as he makes contact and yanks his hand back. Something about this locket is important. I’m not sure what, but I’m going to protect it with my life.

My powers burst out through my hands and blast into the watcher, sending him flying back into the others. They dodge him as he falls to the ground in a broken heap. Their eyes widen before the leader sends the other three watchers to attack, but I use my powers to blast them up into the stone ceiling, and they all fall to the floor.

The last remaining watcher, the leader, glares at me through dark eyes. He slowly removes the hood of his cloak, revealing a shaven head with a strip of blond hair running down the centre. He looks deadly. His lips curl up at the side as if he knows he has won already.

“I must admit, you’re more than I expected you to be. You’re not just a sweet little angel, are you? Now how about you give me that locket,” he says, pointing to it, “and I’ll be on my way. Hell, I’ll even let you live.”

I reach for my mother’s locket and twist it in my fingers. “Here’s an idea. How about you leave now, and I’ll letyoulive?”

The corners of his mouth twitch, and he clasps his hands together as a deep laugh rumbles up out of his chest. “You are quite something. I can understand his desire for you.”

My brows knit together at his words, and he charges at me, using the distraction to his advantage. I attempt to move out of the way, but my movement comes too late as he shoves me back into the wall. I hit my head hard and fall down onto the cold stone floor. My vision blurs as he hovers over me, removing hissword from its holster. He crouches down next to me and holds it close to my neck.

The tip of the blade pricks my skin, and warmth drips down my neck.

“I wouldn’t hesitate to take your life, but that was not the deal I made, and I am a male true to my word.” He reaches out with a gloved hand toward my mother’s locket and yanks it from my neck.

Everything within me wants to stop him, but I’m too dizzy to think straight. A puddle of warm liquid is pooling beneath my head. Am I bleeding?

Zarla? What’s going on?

I try to blank out Finlay’s annoying voice in my head as I focus on the watcher before me. He tucks my mother’s locket into his cloak pocket and gets to his feet.

“Take care, little angel,” he says before turning and walking away.

I blink, trying to refocus my mind when Amaros swoop in and slams his fist into the watcher’s face. He stumbles back, his eyes growing dark, before Amaros plunges his sword into the watcher’s stomach.

White spots dance across my vision while Amaros removes the locket from the watcher’s pocket before he falls face first into to the ground. His eyes lock with mine, and he rushes toward me as everything goes black.

“Zarla?” The male’s voice is laced with concern. A voice I would recognise anywhere.

I slowly open my eyes and my father’s face comes into focus.

He brushes a rough hand across my forehead, the warmth from his touch soothing me like it always did when I was young. I scan the room, realising I’m in my own quarters, not with the healers. I sit up, and my father positions a few pillows behind my back.

“You’re okay,” I say, my voice hoarse.

He takes my hand. “Yes, I am fine. It seems someone took care of most of the watchers before they could find me.” He eyes me with a knowing look.

I remember the watchers I encountered in the hallway and reach behind my head. My hair is sticky and knotted, but my head doesn’t hurt. So that’s a plus.

“Amaros took you to the healers, but once you arrived, you were already healing yourself. He covered for you and suggested taking you back to your quarters instead.”

I remember how Amaros swooped in and killed the last watcher, the one who took my mother’s locket. I instinctively reach for my locket, feeling the bare skin where it would usually sit. Fear creeps into my chest at the thought of not having it. My father doesn’t yet know I have the locket, and for some unknown reason, I feel the need to keep it from him.

There’s a knock at the door, and my father moves across the room to open it. Amaros steps into view and nods to my father, who allows him to enter.

“I’ll give you a moment,” my father says and leaves us alone, closing the door behind him.

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