Page 97 of Angel Lost

“You know me, I’m all about the good times. Let’s go.”

Maybe a few glasses of fae wine will bring back the remnants of the high.

Soaring through the sky, I relish the wind against my wings, the camaraderie of my fellow angels beside me. Flying with these guys is like nothing else I’ve ever experienced. Angel class is the only one worth bothering with.

A searing pain rips through my body. Intense, agonizing. My wings fold and I plummet, spiraling out the sky, the ground rushing up fast. Too fast. Suddenly my classmates are at my side, under me. Six of my troop grab hold, slowing me down. Just enough. We hit the ground in a tangle of limbs, white feathers exploding around us.

Farrell.

That pain wasn’t mine. With barely a muttered thanks to my troop, I bolt.Fates. What has happened to him?

By the time I reach the wyvern training ground, the pain has subsided almost completely. Farrell stands, poker straight, supervising some of the younger kids sparring part-shifted.

“Farrell, what the hell? I felt your pain!”

He signals the first-years to continue and strides over, expression impassive. “Are you high again?”

“You arrogant ass—” Another wave of agony crashes over me.

Farrell grabs me, lowering me to the ground, worry marring his brow. If it’s not his pain…

“Not you…your father!” I hiss, gripping my side where an invisible blade is being rammed between my ribs.

Farrell’s face hardens. “The Virrey is in the king’s custody.”

“Divine light,” I splutter, “When were you going to tell me? He’s being tortured. Somehow he’s sharing it down the slave bond.”

Farrell nods, crouching beside me. The stabbing eases off, and he claps my back. “Good. He’s channeling his pain. It should stop him from breaking.”

Good? In which dimension is that good?

Farrell must read my expression. “You’re helping the rebellion, Zephyr. Thank you.”

“The rebellion can thank my dead body if that happens while I’m flying again.” I gesture to my ripped uniform, the blood oozing from my knees. “Thank Fates my angel troop was there to cushion my fall.”

Farrell’s lip lifts in a snarl at the mention of my classmates.Not this again. They saved me. Not all angels are the enemy.

“You should spend less time with them, Zephyr,” Farrell says standing, dusting himself down, brushing angrily at where my white feathers have stuck to his trousers.

From my place sprawled on the floor, I gaze up at him. “Sure, I’ll just stick with you and your rebellion. The one where I no longer have the title of Hand, instead, it’s punch bag.”

I flap lazily through the sky, keeping a close watch on Lorelei. She’s training. With Kai. Again. Her eyes scan the woods—sharp, alert. She knows she’s being watched.

That’s my girl.

I roll onto my back midair, drifting behind a cloud. I’ve been keeping an eye on her more and more. Farrell’s slacking, Chano has his own mess to deal with, and really…can I even trust them? It’s bad enough she’s alone four days a week in the Gifted Academy. I grit my teeth, tucking my wings in, and shoot toward the ground, landing with a soft thud.

Keeping to the shadows, I trail them until Kai splits off, then I drift after Lorelei. Would she be mad if she knew? Probably. But she doesn’t need to know. I’m an angel, aren’t I? I can be her guardian angel.

She makes her way back to the dorms, pausing on the top step, glancing warily over her shoulder one last time before stepping inside.

My pulse picks up. My blood hums.

Lorelei’s safe. Which means it’s time for my reward. Time to go back to the observatory.

Who needs sleep when you can see?

“Get up, now!” a voice shouts in my ear.

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