Page 2 of Tortured Royals

There’s no regret and only resolve in Mason’s eyes. “The choice to leave The Haven was mine, my mate. For years, I have not lived but have merely survived, tormented by the past. I am glad to be able to fight by your side.”

I give him a small smile as Shade lifts from my shoulder, flapping into the air and flying above the trees.

“Do you think the demon king has returned to Seral?” Alaric asks, crossing his arms.

I shake my head, uncertain. “Maybe. But if he has?—”

At that moment, the wind in the forest changes direction, and my words falter as a low growl rumbles from Nate’s throat.

My head whips toward the shifter. “What is it?”

“Blood,” Nate answers. “It’s faint, but I smell them.”

“Them?” Dante asks, his brows lifting.

“The witches,” Nate replies sharply, his slitted eyes focused on the cliff ahead—at the very spot where Prince Callan had stood moments ago.

“Where’s Callan?” I ask, my heart beginning to race.

Nate steps away from us, and in seconds, he’s shifting. Fur spreads over his skin as his limbs reform and grow in size, his clothes tearing and falling to the ground as he changes into his jaguar form.

My other mates and I share a look.

“Uh, Blake, you might wanna see this,”Shade says in my mind, hovering in the air a short distance from the cliff.“I don’t know if they’re using some kind of cloaking spell or what, but it looks like the witches are still here.”

~ Prince Callan ~

The screams and sounds of battle reach me the moment I step through the cloaking barrier that covers the below township and the surrounding area. The illusion I’d been witnessing melts away, and where I’d previously seen desolate wasteland and a silent, ruined town, now I see buildings that are still half standing and a battle raging. Angels fight on the ground and in the air as witches stream between the buildings on the offensive. Chemical weapons soar through the air, glass orbs and missiles filled with neon liquid shattering as they land on houses and collide with angels causing explosions of feathers and blood.

The cold numbness that had spread over me instantly shatters, and I tighten my grip on my swords. A single moment of indecision goes through me as I peer back at where Blake is speaking with the others. Blake—my Ahalian Touizda.My mate.She shouldn’t be here. I should have told Sebastian, the demon soldier, to take his princess home to Seral. The moment we heard about the witches, I should have insisted I enter the portal alone. But I’m not foolish enough to think she would haveleft me. I think of the press of her lips against mine, and how she had melted against me back in The Haven. Despite the fact I’ve proven myself unworthy of being her mate countless times, the demon refuses to forsake me. And once again, I find myself turning from her. Because every second I hesitate, more angels die.

I launch into the air, the wind buffeting my wings as I fly away from the cliff. Using my power, I send up a surge of wind to increase my speed, and my gaze sweeps over the battle scene as I draw closer. There must be at least two hundred witches spread around the township, and half as many angels.

I reach the first layer of angels, and they shout out my name when they see me, raising their weapons in a salute.

“Support from the queen has finally come!” A female angel with long blond braids calls out with relief as she releases another steel arrow, sending it flying into a witch’s chest with enough force that the witch is knocked to the ground.

My lips form a hard line, but I don’t have the heart to tell her I came alone. I can only hope I’ll be enough. This is my duty.

“My prince,” someone else calls out, and I turn at the familiar voice. Theon is in the air not far from me, wielding his own bow and arrow. The healer’s face is a welcome sight, but as he stares at me, distracted, a glowing red orb smashes into his left wing. The glass orb shatters on impact and the red acid explodes on him, the chemical quickly burning through his bronze feathers. The rancid smell of scorched flesh finds my nose, and the archangel’s face contorts with pain as he cries out. He flaps his ruined wing trying to keep in the air, but as his wing burns, the archangel falls.

Sheathing my swords, I curse and send out a gust of wind that catches Theon and brings him to the ground a few hundred yards from the conflict. An orb soars past my head, and I snarl, turning my attention to the witches. Using my power, I blowback a row of witches directly below us, sending them crashing into nearby buildings, but some of the witches brace against my magic, chanting and deflecting my power.

Theon breathes heavily when I drop to the ground, landing hard beside him. His face is scrunched with pain, and he leans against a large boulder, his injured wing splayed to the side and acid dripping to the ground.

“My prince,” he wheezes.

“You shouldn’t be fighting,” I tell Theon. “You’re not a warrior, my friend.” Memories of my childhood with Theon flash in my mind. Images of me training with the other archangels for hours until I was bruised and bloody, and of Theon being the only one to help me limp away when the instructor finally declared I’d had enough. Even before he discovered his power of healing, Theon had always been a quiet and peaceful soul who would avoid conflict at all costs. He wasn’t one to fly head-first into battle. His duty was to lead one of the largest healing centers in Toralyn.

Theon tries to move his wounded wing and hisses in pain, though I can already see the membrane of his wing starting to regenerate, albeit much slower than usual for a typical wound.

“That is true,” Theon rasps, “but I felt I owed a debt.”

“A debt?” My brows lower.

He nods once. “There were witches in the Perstalian ruins. We were lucky the demon king arrived to help us fight against them. King Dalton created portals and sent the remaining alphas from the competition to their home realms. I was one of the last to go, but I left him there.”

“As you should have. The demons had it under control.”

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