Page 130 of Even Angels fall
My father always seemed to know when I was lying, so I’m not about to cut short that conversation and let him believe this is a trap.
It is one, for sure, but he can’t know just now.
“I doubt the dragon decided to fly abroad without using a jet, but let’s do as if I believe you,” he says, his sneer making an appearance once again. “Why would he leave you home alone, when you just attacked my facilities and he knows very well that not acting in retaliation would make it seem like I can’t handle the people I’m governing? That’s preposterous.” The sneer is gone, and in its stead, Michaël’s face is painted with outrage.
The real outrage is you being my father.
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Angélique
Istall my father for as long as I can, but in the end it looks exactly like what I’m trying to do and he finally snaps.
“Move aside now, or you’ll end up being collateral damage. And don’t think I’ll forget what happened in Versailles. When this is all over, I’ll remind you who is your master.”
I didn’t need a reminder about how awful that man could be, but the fact that he can’t see what is wrong about the way he raised me and still wants to have a hand in my life is absolute garbage. I planned to stay strong and hold my own against him in any case, but this makes it so much easier to decide.
“No.”
“You want to try to defy me again?” He asks with his now ever present sneer. He’s trying to stay collected—I can see it—but is failing miserably. His fists keep closing on nothing; the vein at his temple has been pulsing for what feels like ages now, and I can see a slight twitch in the way his wings move at his back.
Or maybe…did I damage it enough that he didn’t manage to heal it completely?
This thought fills me with glee, even if I can’t be sure for now.
What I’m sure, though, is that I’m not going to let him pass.
But what the hell is Elhyor doing?
I was hoping he would be here by now.
I get my daggers out and take a defensive stance.
“I’m not trying,” I say, as calm and collected as I can be.
I wanted to be free; this might be my chance, and I’m not going to let it pass.
“You ungrateful little piece of shit,” Michaël snarls as he launches himself at me.
He thinks he can surprise me, but I’m ready. I parry every move of his sword, forgetting everything about what is around us. I’ve been trained for this my whole life; I can’t let my guard down or let him in. I know daggers aren’t what most people would pick as their weapon of choice, but I’m not tall for a shapeshifter, and I’ve long admitted to myself that I couldn’t handle a sword like most men. So, I’ve perfected my speed and today is the day I can show off that it was the right thing to do.
Michaël is fast, but I’m faster and the fact that he’s angry—or disappointed, I can’t differentiate it with him—makes him sloppy.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s a hell of a fighter and would kick your average warrior without even sweating even today with this kind of mindset.
But I’m not average and I notice the way he rushes through the moves, how he uses brute force to finish instead of using his whole body.
I notice all of that, and yet he manages to hit me on the collarbone and circles me before launching in the air.
That’s when I realize three things:
one: yes, he’s mad, but he’s been toying with me this whole time;
