Page 42 of Angel Lost

“Have you chosen?”

I nod, tears dripping down my face.

“Do it,” he says.

My heart thunders. “What? No.”

“Then they all die.”

I chew my lip, shaking my head.

“Make it quick, little aether. Show me your power.”

I wrap my arms around myself, and the king sighs. He signals, and the angels force the boys to their knees. Knives so white they have to be luxbane appear in their hands. My breathing speeds up. I can’t stop myself, can’t slow it down, can’t get a handle on it. One single scratch from luxbane and their magic will drain. It won’t stop until…

“All of them or one, aether. Choose.”

Kai. It has to be Kai.

The others—I’m sure of them. The others, I trust.

My hands tremble as I raise them. The eyes of each of my allegiance widen.I’m so sorry.

I reach deep, tugging my magic back from the slave bond, but carefully—just enough. A clean kill. No suffering. No more than necessary. Screwing my eyes shut, I release it all in a single blast.

Silence.

I stand there, frozen, eyes closed for a long, long moment. I have to look. I have to see what I’ve done.

I open my eyes. They’re all down. All of them. Sprawled across the dirt, motionless. Cold panic grips my chest.

No. Just Kai. It was only supposed to be Kai.

A slow, pleased smirk spreads across the king’s face.

Chapter Fourteen: Lorelei

Light creeps past my eyelids and I groan, stretching out under silken sheets. Not my sheets. Not my bed. My body aches. The cream pillow swims into focus, a nasty bloodstain spread across it. Hands fuss behind me, plumping pillows, smoothing sheets, pushing me back down. Then, with a rush, everything floods back. I killed them. All of them. He tricked me. The king tricked me.

My head spins.Or did I? Were they real like the wisps, like the boy, or…

“Miss. Wake up, miss.” I startle awake again to see a slim woman standing over me, her hands firm but careful as she pulls the covers back. Her uniform is crisp—pale gray with silver embroidery at the cuffs and collar, the fabric finer than a simple servant’s garb. It’s too polished, too pristine. Something about it tugs at my sleep-fogged mind, but the thought slips away before I can grasp it.

“You’ve been asleep forty-eight hours,” she says, smoothing down the front of her dress. “You have an audience with the king in thirty minutes.”

Shit. The king. My allegiance…dead.

Choking back a sob, I stumble after the fussing maid, barely reacting as she tugs at my clothes. What’s the point? In anything?

Her dry hands strip away my bloody Fates uniform, tearing scabs, reopening cuts. She hisses at each new bruise before nudging me under the steaming water. I just stand there, staring blankly at the tile, the shower running scalding hot.

“I’ll give you ten minutes. Miss?”

I jerk my head toward her, ignoring the water streaming into my eyes.

The maid glances over her shoulder, rubbing her hands together, scrunching her apron. “Not everything you saw was real, Miss.”

My breath stops.What?

---