Page 6 of Even Angels fall
My father.
Michaël.
I wish I could say I still see some of the warmth I used to see in his eyes as a kid, but his dark blue eyes that match mine are nothing but cold and hard.
He’s handsome, by any standard: dark blonde hair with blue eyes, a hard but well-sculpted face that has made many women swoon, and a build worthy of any fighter, but all I can see are his eyes.
Léandre told me he read somewhere that eyes are a doorway to one’s soul, and if that’s true, I don’t think there is any chance of redemption for Michaël.
This man, he’s not my father, hasn’t been for years, and yet I can’t shake the feeling that once again I disappointed him.
He used to be my role model. The one person I was supposed to shadow and learn from. Now, my path has veered so much from what was initially planned for me that I don’t even know what I am to him.
One thing is sure, though.
I am late, and he knows it.
I stop short in the middle of the room.
Its name might come from the royal stables, the building looks nothing like stables.
It’s grand and if I didn’t know what it looks like inside the Versailles palace, I would say it’s fit for a king with its high ceiling and floor-to-ceiling windows illuminating the room.
And it used to be, after all. The first floor for the horses and the rest, I don’t really know, to be honest, but it’s filled with old maps and marble statues that hint at a grander time.
A time ruled by men and not by shifters who think they are better than anyone else.
I feel for the humans.
We stole their world, took power, and made them change their lifestyle.
I feel for them because without ever being authorized to shift or spread my wings, I’m more or less a glorified human.
A well-trained one, but still a human.
“Remove her chair.”
My father’s voice rings inside the room as he commands the guard near the door.
I don’t move.
Whatever he has planned for me, I’m pretty sure I won’t like it, especially since Ariël is doing everything he can to avoid meeting my eyes.
I don’t like this.
It feels like a trap, so I keep my mouth shut as I bow to my father, my hands clasped at the small of my back and eyes on the ground.
For someone who hates monarchy, he sure as hell borrowed a lot from them.
The palace.
The etiquette.
The greeting to archangels by bowing.
And forced marriages.
It’s not all on him, but still, he loves it too much and I keep wondering if he’ll ever relinquish his power to my brother.
