Page 13 of The War of Wings
I blinked, taking in the faces of the Benevolent Saints before me. “I didn’t realize you all lived here.”
“We don’t, dear,” Aanh said, her cheerful expression faltering for a moment. “We reside in the Saints’ Realm. We’re only here temporarily. While…” She looked nervously toward Soren.
Soren was silent a beat too long before he finally smiled. “Why don’t you all join us for some tea?” He gestured toward a sitting room off the foyer, more grand and palatial than anything in Eserene’s castle, yet somehow cozy. “You must be Sarek and Larka.”
Da and Larka glowed under the attention of the Benevolent Saints. “That’s us,” they said in unison.
“Thank you for taking such good care of her,” Onera said with a smile, a hand resting on Da’s arm as we made our way into the sitting room.
“She’s been one of m’ greatest joys,” Da answered, his voice catching.
Larka raised a hand. “I’m the other joy.”
I couldn’t help but smile as everyone settled into armchairs with fabric the same bright white as the robes billowing around the Saint of Heaven. He somehow looked exactly the way I’d expected him to — his bald head gleaming softly in the light, his cheeks plump and rosy.
With a snap of his fingers, a steaming teapot appeared on the table between us, an assortment of teacups alongside it. “Please, help yourself,” he said.
“But I don’t like tea,” Larka whispered out of the side of her mouth. In true Larka fashion, it was nowhere as quiet as she’d thought.
“Humor me, Miss Larka,” Soren urged with a knowing smile. “Pour yourself a cup.”
Larka gave him a sidelong glance — not something I would do to a fuckingSaint— and reached for the teapot. Deep red liquid poured out when she tipped it over her cup, her eyes widening as she brought it to her nose and inhaled.
“What a trick that is,” she remarked as she took a deep sip and gave Soren a beaming smile, settling deeper into her chair. “Petra, your Uncle Soren is great. How did you know red wine was my favorite?”
He answered her smile with one of his own before turning to my Da. “Sarek, you go ahead.”
Da eagerly leaned forward, his mouth dropping open in surprise when ale poured from the same spout that had just poured red wine. He took a sip, slapping his knee and letting out a hoot of a laugh that echoed through the sitting room and thefoyer beyond. “Remind me to ask ye for one o’ these special teapots before we leave. Could use one back at the cabin.”
“That can be arranged,” Soren answered before he turned to me and nodded. “Petra.”
That unsettled feeling cropped up in my stomach again, suddenly sprouting thorns. “No, thank you,” I said politely, folding my hands in my lap. “If you don’t mind, I have some questions.”
“Drink first,” Aanh insisted, leaning forward to tip the teapot into a cup. Water flowed from its spout, and I took it from her grasp, first taking a polite sip then immediately chugging the rest of it down. Fuck, I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was.
“Thank you,” I murmured, placing my teacup back on the table. I wanted to drink the entire teapot’s worth of water, but I was afraid if I stopped pushing forward, I’d realize other things, like how exhausted I was, how broken I was. “Okay,” I continued. “Questions.”
“Yes,” Soren replied with a nod. “We’ll answer all we can.”
I took a steadying breath. This was it. The answers I needed were here. “So, my mother is Katia, and my father is Rhedros.”
It hadn’t been a question, but still Soren responded. “Yes.”
“And are you all…siblings? Friends?”
“Not siblings,” Soren answered. “Not always friends.” A chuckle moved through the four of them. “No blood relation between us. We were created by the Keepers to preside over the forces of the world and oversee humankind.”
“Created by the Keepers?”
“As the New World began to grow, it became clear the Keepers wouldn’t be able to efficiently oversee all the worldly forces, so they created us. They willed it, and it was so.”
I nodded, moving down my mental list. “Do all the Saints know who my parents are?”
“Yes.”
The last words of the prophecy rang through my head.Her bloodline exposed by he who exacts pain, cursed to walk the realm whenevil comes again.“There’s a prophecy about the Daughter of Katia. It says that my bloodline will be exposed by the Saint of Pain.” The Benevolent Saints look nervously between each other. Their reactions didn’t feel promising. “Who is he?”
Soren shifted in his seat, his face suddenly tightening as the other Saints averted their attention. “I’m afraid I cannot divulge that information.”
