Page 82 of Angel Lost

Farrell picks up the fallen parchment, smooths it flat, and holds it out. “Now, I fix it.”

The scout coughs nervously. “They sent out search parties, sir. They’re searching for clues about the real rebellion now.”

Farrell snatches the nearest map from the war table, scanning battle reports with a clenched jaw. The candlelight flickers as the heat in the room spikes.

“How many saw through the illusion?” His voice is low.

The scout swallows. “Enough.”

Farrell’s grip tightens on the map until it crumples, and smoke belches from him. “Get me a full report. Now.”

The scout bolts before Farrell can set him alight. The silence left behind is suffocating. The air crackles, charged with the energy of everything left unsaid.

“Farrell, I came here because—”

“Because what?” His voice slices through the air, sharp and hot. “You didn’t come here to warn me. That would’ve been useful. You didn’t come to help, either.”

The embers in the brazier glow brighter, the fire responding to him.

“So whatdoyou want now, Lorelei?”

My throat tightens, but I refuse to back down. He can burn as hot as he wants—I’m not leaving until I get through to him.

I force steel into my voice. “To fix this.”

Farrell shakes his head like he can’t believe I’m standing here, like he can’t believe I’m still talking. “Fix this?” He slaps his palm flat on the table. “You mean the mess you helped create? Very kind.”

I flinch, but I don’t step back. “The king figured out byhimselfthat something was off about your father. That wasn’t on me. But I never meant to keep you in the dark about your father being moved.”

“But you did.” He shoves a hand through his curls, movements taut with frustration. “You knew where he was sent, and you said nothing. You let me walk around blind while the king held him under his boot.”

The firelight flickers, casting shadows over his sharp features. My stomach twists.

“I didn’t keep it from you on purpose, Farrell. There was a rip—hellions got out. I barely had time to breathe, let alone tell you.”

His nostrils flare, a brief puff of smoke curling from his nose. “And yet you found time to party with some big-boy demons. Trying to find some new blood for your little harem?”

I grit my teeth. “I don’thavea harem.”

For a second, I think I see it—a flicker of something behind his eyes, something less molten, less rage-fueled. But then he looks away, jaw tight.

I step closer. “I know you’re angry, but I’m not your enemy, Farrell.”

His gaze flickers over my face, searching for—what? Excuses? Lies? Maybe just proof that I actually give a damn. Chano slowly, deliberately,moves closer, but for now, he bites his tongue. Even Kai stills, watching, waiting.

Farrell finally drags a hand down his face, muttering a curse. “You don’t get it, Lorelei. It’s not just about my father. It’s about all of them. Every soldier, every rebel who trusted me to keep them hidden.” He lets out a bitter breath. “I don’t know how many we’ll lose because of this.”

The words are sharp, but they don’t cut as deep as before. Not as much fire, not as much venom.

Cautiously, I place my hand over his. “Then let me help.”

The silence stretches. His fingers flex under mine, like he’s warring with the need to lash out. Then he snatches his hand back, spreading the map out, smoothing the crumples.

“Fine,” he bites out. “You want to help? Then start acting like it.”

It’s not forgiveness—not even close—but it’s something. A way forward.

“Tell me what needs to be done.”

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