Page 55 of Wings of Death

“I’m fine,” I say, a little confused. “Are you?”

His jaw tenses, but he nods. “Come on. We better not keep your father waiting any longer.”

And with that, he’s walking away.

I hurry to catch up to him, but I keep a slight distance. Something tells me he needs a bit of space right now. And gods above, what must Astelle be thinking after seeing us so close and Amaros caressing my cheek? I can only imagine what she will tell her mother.

My stomach knots at the thought, and I try to brush it aside. No matter what she tells her mother, she couldn’t possibly despise me any more than she already does.

We pass the corridor that leads to my father’s quarters, and I wonder where he’s leading me. It soon becomes clear as we head down the corridor that leads to the Great Library. Growing up, it was one of my favourite places in the entire Kingdom.

We enter the library, which is filled to the brim with just about every book you can imagine. It’s a masterpiece. I glide my fingers along the spines of the books as we pass by the shelves, and Amaros watches me intently.

“What is it?” I ask, blushing a little.

He laughs. “Your mother used to do the same.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, unsure whether to ask about her, but he seems to have known her reasonably well, so I do. “How well did you know my mother?”

I swear I see pain in his eyes for a moment before he looks away, composing himself. What was that about?

He clears his throat. “Not very well. Let’s go.”

There’s something off there, the way he acts when he speaks about my mother. I think he knew her better than he’s willing to admit. But why lie about it? That’s the part that doesn’t make sense. I decide not to push it with him, knowing it won’t get me very far, and follow him through the library to where my fatheris waiting for us, sitting at a desk with several books spread out in front of him.

“Zarla,” he says, and eyes Amaros, who nods and leaves us alone.

“Father,” I respond.

His long silver hair catches the light, shining a little. His hair is nicer than some females within the Kingdom. It suits him and matches his lengthy beard. He gives me a strange look, and a feeling of unease grows in my stomach.

“I’m worried about you,” he finally says. “I want you to remain in the Kingdom.”

Oh gods above, not this again. “Seriously? I thought we went through this. I can take care of myself. Why is everyone suddenly so worried about me?”

His brows furrow. “Who else is so worried?”

I decide not to mention how Amaros voiced his concerns earlier. Something tells me it’s more personal than it should be, and best kept secret for now. “Never mind. My powers are strong, just like my mother’s were. I can take care of myself.”

He stands from behind the desk and moves around toward me. “How did you know about her powers?”

“The Master told me. He saw the same potential in me he saw in her.”

He lets out a long breath and rubs the side of his face. “Your mother was a powerful angel, but you’re young, Zarla, with much to learn. You need to be careful who you trust.”

I move to a nearby seat and sit down. “Why don’t you ever talk about her? I barely know anything about her.”

He glances away, and for a moment, I’m sure he’s going to shut me down, yet again, the way he always does when I speak of her or ask questions. I always thought it’s because it’s too painful for him to discuss, but I’m starting to wonder if there is more to it. Like maybe he’s hiding something.

He sits on the edge of the desk and cups his hands in his lap. “Your mother was very special to me. She was everything to me, in fact. It’s been hard. Losing her left quite a gap in my life.”

I narrow my eyes, unsure if I believe a word he’s saying, especially after reading about how he treated my mother in her own journals. “You easily filled that gap.”

His eyes find mine, and he frowns. “Zarla, you know nothing of which you speak.”

I roll my eyes. “Because you don’t tell me anything. I’m left to either guess, or ask others, or find answers myself.”

My voice is louder than I expect, and I realise it’s likely because of the pent-up anger over the years. I was abandoned, much like my mother was. Left to fend for myself. I basically grew up without a father. He’s never been there for me, never around to teach me things, or to spend time with me.

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