Page 24 of Wings of Death

The bathroom is steamy when I turn the water off and step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my body. My guardian markings gleam a little under the light, and I finally take the time to study the intricate patterns. Delicate vines flow up my fingers and wrap around my arms, with tiny leaves and flowers dotted along the vines. The flowers are called Sharpae, beautiful pink and purple flowers from the Dark Forest. They’re poisonous and said to be the protectors of the forest, alongside Zelons.

Guardian markings are unique to each guardian, which makes them feel even more special.

A loud thud from within my quarters startles me. I reach for my daggers and then carefully open the door, peeking into the room. No one is there. I push the door open farther and slowly cross the room toward my bed. There’s a note sitting in the middle of my bed, and I pick it up and turn it over to see my name written across the front.

A knock sounds at my door, and it opens. Although it’s hard to tell the twins apart, I know it’s Yimel, my father’s guard, as he pokes his head into my quarters. I quickly hide the note and my daggers behind my back as he scans the room. His short red hair is styled perfectly to the side, which matches his twin brother’s, Rimel. Another guard of my father’s. His gaze traces over my body, making me feel more than a little uncomfortable. The twins always have that effect on me.

“Sorry to bother you, miss. I heard something. Everything okay?” His gaze focuses on my hands behind my back.

“Yes, everything’s fine.” My cheeks flush. I hate lying, and I have always found it difficult.

He hovers for a moment and narrows his eyes, as if deciding whether he believes me, before he leaves and closes the door. I lock my door and take a seat on my bed. After placing my daggers down, I open the note.

Zarla, I write to warn you of the imminent danger you are in. You must be careful. Trust no one. The answers may be found within your mother’s quarters.

The words send a chill down my spine as I stare at the note, rereading it several times before tucking it away in my bedside drawer. Whoever is sending me these notes knows what reallyhappened to my mother. I can feel it, and it appears to be different to what I have been told happened growing up.

There is only one person who can give me any answers.

Yimel and Rimel are standing guard outside my father’s quarters when I approach, their hazel eyes focused on me. I ignore them both and wait as they open the door for me. My father is sitting in his dark-brown leather chair next to the fire, two glasses of red wine poured next to him.

“Expecting company?” I ask as I walk over to him, arms crossed.

He remains seated and gestures for me to join him. Reluctantly, I take a seat on the leather couch opposite him. We have never been all that close, and I always find these one-on-one moments strange. The warmth from the fire soothes me somewhat, and I breathe in the deep, earthy scent of the burning wood.

He smiles at me, his eyes wrinkling a little at the sides, and takes a sip of his wine before placing the glass back down. “I am.”

Nervously, I tuck my hair behind my ears. “I’ll make this quick, then. What’s going on with the watchers? Why are they attacking us?”

He strokes his silver beard and stares into the flames. The crackle of the fire is comforting, especially in this tense situation. He crosses his ankle over his knee.

“We don’t yet know, but we are looking into it. We have killed all the watchers who attacked, so we cannot question them.” His eyes settle on mine in a disapproving glare, and he takes another sip of wine.

I lean forward and rest my forearms against my knees. “There was one who survived, but Amaros killed him. What would you have me do? Let them kill me first?”

He places his glass down and then taps his fingers on the armrest. “Of course not. But when they are all dead, so too is any lead on their motivations.”

We may not be able to question the ones who are dead, but there are millions more who are still alive in their Kingdom, Galespo.

“He mentioned something strange to me, the watcher. He said killing me wasn’t part of the deal he made.”

My father sits forward, his expression unreadable. “I think it best we do not read into the words of the watchers. Especially when we cannot question them of their meaning.”

I frown at him. “But you can. Why not travel to Galespo and find out?”

He gets to his feet and stands closer to the fire, staring into the flames. “Zarla, there is much you do not know. Long ago, after the three Kingdoms were forged, the watchers started a war, not just with us, but with Zarquon, too. When the war showed no signs of letting up, we agreed to a cease-fire and formed a peace treaty.”

I rub my face, taking in this new information. “So then, why has it been broken?”

He holds a hand up. “Let me finish explaining. The three Kingdoms, Silanthia, Zarquon and Galespo, agreed on several angel laws that we would each abide to. That is how The Throne was formed within each Kingdom. It enabled us to end the war, and it is how we have coexisted. The watchers agreed to watch over the angels on Earth to ensure they upheld these laws.

“Zarquon didn’t like the arrangement. They were greedy and wanted more. We were frequently on high alert, expecting another war. They didn’t like there being three separateKingdoms, and they wanted to rule over them all, which would never work. When they killed your mother…” He pauses, staring into nothing as if reliving the memory. “Well, the treaty with them was tarnished. Ever since, we have kept our distance, and we no longer allow them into our Kingdom, and they do not allow us into theirs.”

Wow. How did I not learn about this history?

I bite the inside of my cheek, still not understanding something. “Okay, I understand that, but that doesn’t explain why you can’t just go to Galespo and speak with the watchers.”

My father picks up his wine and takes a long sip, and then he finishes it before placing it back down. “My fear is that they may have crossed us and are conspiring with our enemies for war.”

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