Page 72 of Wings of Lies
“Why do you look so old?” I hoped my question insulted him.
A whip of the reins and a grunt were his only reactions. Pity. “Is there a different way I’m supposed to look?’
“Young, immortal?” I shrugged.
“I am immortal.”
The wrinkles in his face and his worn, leathery hands told a different story. Even the roots of his gray hair were speckled white—grays and whites, the colors of a burning piece of wood on its last leg of life. The only sparks of energy were in the red beads of his white beard and ever-changing eyes.
“I’m Fallen. This”—he waved a hand around his head—“was part of my punishment.” That was bitterness in his tone.
I opened my mouth to ask why his wings had been torn from his back, craving to poke at the old wounds. Before I could get a word out, a deep divot in the road slammed me against the metal railing. Searing pain shot up my side, and a whimper caught between my clenched teeth.
“Any more questions you’d like to ask?” He smiled, all teeth and spite.
“Would you knock me out so I didn’t have to see your ugly face anymore if I did?”
He jerked the horses to the side, slamming me back into the side rail. I gasped.
“No, that’d be too nice.” His mustache twitched an inch. “But these horses are difficult to steer. Never know which way they’ll jerk.” He lifted the reins, ready to twist them to the side. “Best keep your mouth shut.”
Two taps sounded inside the carriage. Brock brought the horses to a stop.
“Why are we?—”
“I’m taking over,” Aspen said, walking up to stand on the other side of Brock. His cold gaze shot to my arm, gripping my side, then to Brock’s face. If possible, his expression grew colder.
“But we still have an hour before change.”
“I said I was taking over. It wasn’t a negotiation.”
Brock squeezed the reins once, then threw them to the ground. “Whatever you say, Prince Aspen,” he shouldered past him to the back as Aspen took his seat.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Would it matter if I said no? Would you release me?”
“I can’t,” he whispered as a red light pulsed beneath his chin. Then, he more forcefully said, “I won’t.”
“Didn’t think so.” I gave his chin a questioning look and turned to face the dirt road, ignoring his presence.
“Why did you come here?”
Did his demanding tone never cease?
“Lucille!” he snapped after my continued silence.
At first, I resolved to stay silent, not caring about his impatience. But then the perfect response slid into my head. “Your questions aren’t worth my answers, asshole.”
That shut him up.Thank goodness.Like I wanted to explain anything to him, he deserved nothing from me.
I glanced down at the keyhole of my cuffs. My fingers twitched, knowing what to do but unable to in my princely jailor’s presence.
A jerk snapped me from my plan. My head turned to side-eye Aspen. He pushed his broad shoulders back, posture stiff. The reins wrapped around his fist turned his skin pale and slightly blue. He gazed over the heads of the black mares, never moving his head. I would’ve guessed he was a statue if not for the flutter in his jaw. He didn’t even blink. At first, I thought he was angry about what I said, but now I didn’t know.
“What?” he snapped, feeling my stare.
I raised a brow. “Are you scared of horses?”
