Page 124 of Wings of Death

I blink rapidly while I try to keep my eyes open.

Amaros uses the sword to cut through the lock and opens the cell gate. He hurries to my side, brushes the hair off my face, and then presses a kiss to my forehead.

My head grows heavy, and my eyes flicker closed before I black out.

I blink my eyes open, confused by my surroundings.What happened?I wonder as I glance around. There are four females in the room, two at my side using some sort of blue magic on me, and the other two are near the side of the room, working on something at a bench. I’m with the healers.

I try to sit up, and a throbbing pain shoots through my head. The healer to my right helps lower me back down, and it’s then I realise I’m in some sort of bath. I can barely feel the water though, as it’s the perfect temperature to blend into my body. I glance down at the milky liquid and breathe in the scent of lavender.

“Please relax, Zarla,” the female says, her eyes kind.

Images rush through my mind in waves as my memories flow back to me. Being locked in the cells, Yimel and Rimel being killed, my friends being locked up, Hethenos torturing me, then calling Amaros a god and Astelle a goddess. Amaros saving me.

I attempt to sit up again, still unable to do it. I blink through the throbbing pain in my head and grip the side of the bath.

“Zarla, you mustn’t leave. We are working through your healing,” the other female explains.

I raise my hand and allow my dark magic to flow from my fingertips. I place my hand on my body as the dark magic seeps into me and heals me completely.

The female healers cover their mouths as they gasp and shuffle away from the bath. I sit up with no pain at all and climb out of the tub. I’m wearing a thin white dress which clings to my body.

But I don’t care. I have one thing on my mind and one thing only—I am going to find Hethenos.

“I’m going to kill her,” I say in a level tone as I release my white wings and storm out of the healing chambers.

The corridors of the castle are quiet, and although I’m desperate to know if my father is okay, I don’t have time to check. Hethenos had caused more pain, more damage in my life than anyone ever could. She has to be stopped, and I am the one to do it. But first, I need to find her.

The cool air chills my damp skin, and I decide I have enough time to change into my guardian leathers. If I’m going to take her on, I need to be prepared as best I can. If what Hethenos said is true, if Astelle is a goddess, then that means she is, too.

I make it to my room and snatch up my leathers from my wardrobe. There’s a knock at my door, and I don’t bother turning to see who it is as footsteps enter my room.

“Zarla, you’re healed?” Amaros asks.

I strip out of the soaking wet dress without a care that he is watching me, and that I’m buck naked right now. There’s one focus that’s drawing the entirety of my attention right now. I glance over my shoulder, and Amaros clears his throat as his eyes graze over my body before turning around.

“Is it true, then? You’re a god?” I slip into my leathers quickly and fasten my boots before moving toward him.

He turns to face me, deep concern etched into his features. “Zarla?—”

I hold my hand up. “Don’t.”

His brows crease together. “Don’t what?”

I stare into his grey eyes for a moment, and everything makes so much sense. “Don’t lie to me.”

He runs a hand through his thick hair. “Yes, I’m a god. And before you say anything, I had always planned to tell you?—”

I hold a hand up again. “I don’t have time for an explanation right now. Do you know where my daggers are?”

He swallows hard. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t know where they are. Hethenos likely has them.” He reaches down to his holster and pulls out that same sword.

He hesitates for a moment before he holds it out to me.

“Zarla…” it calls to me, and I gulp, hesitating for a moment before gripping the handle.

As I make contact with the sword, a surge of power shoots through me that seems to regenerate my entire body, refilling my power stores. The sword feels good in my grasp, as if it were made for me. And then its name drifts into my mind.The Sword of Silanthia. I slide it into my holster.

“Be careful. That’s a weapon of the gods,” he tells me, and my gaze locks with his.

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