Page 5 of Angel Lost

“See this?” He steps back and gestures to the wrecked lawns, the tent city. “They’re hiding from the king and his men. When we go after the scouts we go disguised by my illusions. If I’m hiding, you should most definitely be hiding too.”

My retort dies in my mouth. I turn full circle on the spot. Hiding? I’m missing something. Soldiers march between the more official-lookingtents, but my gaze is drawn to the those made of a simple bit of canvas over a rope, to the ragtag kids skimming stones across the lake.

“I don’t understand.” It almost hurts to say it. “What’s happening?”

He scrubs a hand through his curls and shrugs. “The Angel King. On the news he says his scouts are looking for rips, for hellions. Of course, he’s really hunting down any traces of insurgence, and quietly disposing of those who oppose him. He’s focusing on the fae lands for now. But there are enough scouts in Venez that we have to be careful.”

“How long?” I choke out. “How long has this been going on?”

“Pretty much since school broke up.” Farrell cocks his head. “I assumed you knew and just didn’t want to get involved, princess.”

“No. I-I…” How do I tell him I didn’t want to know? I couldn’t see how it would affect us…and after Naeve dying I couldn’t hack the news and its constant negativity. “I didn’t,” I finish lamely.

Reaching out, I trace the rip in his shirt sleeve. “Why didn’t you tell me? Look, let me get cleaned up, then you can brief me. I’ll come on the next mission.”

Farrell snorts, turning on his heel. “Not likely. You haven’t trained. You’d endanger yourself, and my soldiers.”

An older man with an insignia on his shirt mutters in Farrell’s ear. Farrell’s gaze darts to the supes lingering nearby. He swivels, kissing me gently on the forehead, then winks, dropping his voice. “Got to keep up the pretense we’re a couple, don’t we, princess.” I glare and he shrugs. “By all means stay, train. With the kids.”

He dips his head again and his lips find mine, hot, demanding. My anger dissipates and I melt into him. The world around us vanishes, and all I can feel are his hands on my arms, his tongue in my mouth. Suddenly, Farrell pulls away, his jaw clenching. My lips tingle and I shiver, cold without him wrapped around me. He strides off, leaving me there, in the middle of the lawn.

Alone.

I wipe my wrist across my lips, staring after him in disbelief.What is his problem?Right. Save yourself, Lorelei. You know where the mansion is. No one here thinks you need an invitation. You’re as entitled to stroll on in as Farrell. You’re the princess, after all.

Train with the kids, can I? Asshole.

My anger powers my weary feet along the drive, and up the massive stone steps of the mansion. The giant oak door guarding the arched entryway yawns open. No butler pops out to take my bags. Not that I have much. I trail inside, the exposed tile floor echoing eerily. The Virrey’s lavish rugs are gone, the main hallway left stark. Rectangles of brighter paint give away where expensive artwork once hung on the walls. I pause halfway along the corridor, staring up.

“Sold,” a chipper voice says at my elbow. “Sold for the cause.”

“Zephyr!” One look at his grinning face, his perfect blond hair, and I launch myself at him.

He sidesteps me neatly, pinching his nose with finger and thumb.

“As much as I would love a hug, Lorelei, can you shower first?”

Everyone sits down to dinner in the dining hall. And by everyone, I mean it’s probably a tenth of the soldiers and a few handfuls of the women and kids from the camp. Zephyr explains quietly that it’s a rotation. Everyone gets the honor of eating with their leader. Farrell really is going hard on this glorious leader shit.

The rough-hewn picnic tables where the rebels sit are a far cry from the beautifully carved head table I’m seated at. But, poking desolately at my plate, it dawns on me: everyone eats the same bland slop. Things have seriously changed since the Virrey’s imprisonment. Guilt claws at me. I should have checked on Farrell, realized he wasn’t really as “fine” as he claimed. If I’d come sooner…Seen for myself…

I almost don’t blame him for being so standoffish. Almost.

As the last piece of cutlery clinks down, Farrell rises. “We’ll be in the library, Lorelei. The rebellion needs leadership during term, and I have to choose a new Hand. It can’t be Zephyr—he’ll be with me, studying.”

I follow them down the echoing halls, but the library door slams shut in my face, draining the last of my patience. As far as the generals know, I’m supposed to be leading this rebellion at Farrell’s side. Maybe our relationship started as a ruse to keep the factions united, but damn it, I want to know what’s going on. I need to know.

Flames skitter across my skin, and I pause, hand on the bronze doorknob. I can’t storm in this out of control. Not if I want to be taken seriously. I lean my head against the cool wood and will my anger to subside.

Telling me to train with the kids, then kissing me like that. Calling me princess as an insult. Arrogant asshole.

The flames rushing down my arms spike higher. Shit. I puff out my cheeks and step back into the shadows. I’ll wait him out. Demand to be included once we’re in private, once the soldiers leave.

Zephyr rounds the corner and pauses, frowning. His head tilts this way and that. I push up off the wall, out of the shadows.

“By the Fates, Lorelei. When did you learn that?”

Scrunching my nose, I consider him. “What?”

---