Page 165 of Wings of Lies
The king’s fist slammed into this desk, spreading a thin layer of ice over the dark wood. “They will open.” He removed his hand, standing to walk closer to the fire. “She passed the test. She’s who I’ve been looking for,” he muttered.
What test?
“And they all want her. The Ethereal Military, my damned wife, and whoever the pathetic demon works for.” Ice spread across the floor as he toed the line of his restraint.
“They will open,” I said, keeping the awkwardness from my tone. Comforting someone didn’t come naturally to me, but the ice creeping up my leg pushed me to it. “And if they don’t, I’ll try the portal again.”
“We’ll have more luck with the gates. There is no use getting your wings wet again. The Dreads may demand I appoint a new general if you do.” The ice crusting my pant leg receded. He turned around, drilling me with an icy gaze. “Go, Bloodhound, figure out where she is. I don’t want to see your face again until you do.”
“Yes, Sir.” I left to connect with Rune.
TWO HOURS AGO
I knocked on his door.
“If you’re General Ronen, then enter. If you’re anyone else, leave.” The King’s voice hinted at a slow death. Ice crystallized underneath the crack of the door. We were minutes away from our schedule.
I took a deep breath, gathering myself for this potential shitstorm, and confidently pushed into his office.
Fractured ice covered the wood-polished floor.
“Cutting it close, Bloodhound. Tell me.” He stood from his chair. Leather, in black and red of our kingdom’s colors, embraced the cords of his muscles. He dressed for battle. Yet he wouldn’t be the one going out there. He was as much a prisoner to his kingdom as his wife was.
“Rune is outside an abandoned house at the edge of The Divide.”
“How do you know it’s the edge of The Divide?”
“They’re next to the killing fields.”
His dark gray eyes nearly vanished behind his two thickening white rings. Ever since he sensed her power months ago, his control had been on a relentless rampage.
I knew her name. I knew she was important, so much so that I had been threatened with my life if I didn’t retrieve her. Not that I was worried. He called me Bloodhound for a reason. However, the lack of additional intel irritated me. If only bridging two separate minds allowed me to join the connection. But my powers had limits. Plus, he wasn’t one to share unless it was absolutely necessary.
I squared my shoulders. The next part would prove challenging to convey, and there was no time to waste thawing me if I upset the king. “Marcus is with her. Which means Saraqael may be there too.”
The rings swallowed the rest of his irises. “And?” He knew there was more. We’d been searching for Marcus’s new employer, trying to find Saraqael.
“Rune didn’t lay eyes on the face. But she did see white armor. Your old armor.” I almost said our, but I never received the white, as my position decreed. No, I received black—not that it mattered anymore.
But what I said did.
I luscelered to the doorframe, feeling the change in the air before the ceiling and floor erupted in sharp spears of ice.
“Go stand by the gates, general. Wait until they open and bring them to me. Kill anyone who stands in your way and drag back their rotten souls. And if the gates don’t open,”—the whites of his eyes glowed—“pray that they do.”
The air pulsed, and my ebony wings manifested. I stretched them out, enjoying the relief of having them free.
“Oh, general, if the Nephilim is with them, bring him too. Put him on Rune if you have to.”
“Yes, Sir.” I left just as crashing ice erupted behind me.
FIVE MINUTES AGO
The gates opened. How he knew they would, I didn’t need to know. But they did, and I flew to Rune. Our connection made it easy to find her, even after years of separation. I popped my wings out of existence and crouched beside her in the tall grass. My shadows helped to blend us into the shade of a large oak. The dusk sky also helped.
She pushed her black body into me, craving attention after being away from me for so long. I didn’t have the time. But as I was aboutto stand, Marcus came out, and two figures luscelered to the house’s front porch. One of them tackled Marcus to the ground.
It was the Nephilim.
