Page 91 of Castor
Over ten years had passed since I’d last heard his voice. I turned around to see my father, his armor tarnished from battle and his sword stained with blood. Red hair, the same shade as mine, fell over pale skin.
“You’ve grown so much,” he said, his voice shaking a bit. When he stepped closer, I took a step back. Sadness filled his green eyes as he stopped his advance. “What has Lazarus done to you?”
Steeling myself against the flood of emotions at seeing him again, I held my chin higher. “He showed me who you truly are.”
That sadness in his eyes spread, and with it, a grave acceptance. “Have you come to kill me?”
My chin shook. “Yes.”
Even though he looked as if a piece of him was withering away, he softly smiled. “I knew you’d become a better man than me.”
I blinked the memory away and glared at Lazarus. I hadn’t been able to strike my father. Because even though I’d known who he’d fought for, I had still loved him.
“You couldn’t kill him,” Lazarus said. “If not for Uriel convincing me otherwise, I would’ve killed you that night right alongside him, for I feared your loyalty was compromised. Even now, I wonder if I made the right choice.”
Alastair stepped between me and the angel. “Castor has spent the past two thousand years proving that loyalty to you. He is, and will always remain, one of us. Let’s return to the matter at hand.”
I didn’t stay to listen.
I stormed out of the room, my steps heavy just like the weight over my heart, and went outside, taking flight right as the evening air touched my heated skin. No matter how wicked my father had been, I refused to believe he’d been all bad.
Maybe the world wasn’t as black and white as the concept of good and evil. Angels, demons, Nephilim, maybe we all had pieces of both inside of us. Good deeds were sometimes overshadowed by selfish desires. My father had done evil things because he’d believed he was cleansing the world, making it better. For him. For his family.
Maybe I was more like him than I’d thought.
Another set of wings joined the sound of mine. I glanced to the left to see Galen.
He said nothing as he flew by my side.
He didn’t need to.
Chapter Eighteen
Kyo
“You need to eat something,” my sister, Ryoko, said as she sat on the edge of my bed. The open balcony doors allowed sunlight to filter into the room. It couldn’t touch the dark cloud hanging over me though.
“I’m not hungry.”
Three days had passed since the battle, but everything seemed a bit muddled together. Fuzzy. Tatsuya had taken me to the palace, and I had faded in and out of consciousness for the first day and only recently became alert enough to hold down some food. But the thought of eating made me nauseous.
“You need to rebuild your strength.” Her gentle tone matched the expression in her blue-green eyes. She brought forth a bowl. “I prepared soba noodles. Your favorite.”
My mouth watered despite my previous statement. When I was a child, Ryoko had always made the meal for me when I was upset or sick. Refusing the food after she’d worked to prepare it would hurt her feelings. No matter how upset I was, Ryoko didn’t deserve the cold shoulder.
“Thank you.” I accepted the bowl before grabbing the chopsticks.
Soba noodles could be served cold or hot. To combat the warm weather of the island, I liked them chilled. Aromas of soy, sesame oil, and freshly ground black pepper wafted from the sauce. As I dipped the noodles and raised them to my mouth, I groaned at the explosion of flavor on my tongue. Earthy with a slight nutty tang. Chopped green onion added an extra kick.
I was a lot hungrier than I’d thought. Once I’d taken a bite, I couldn’t stop until the bowl was empty. Ryoko watched me with a smile. She liked when people enjoyed her food.
A knock sounded on the door before it slid open and a male entered. He had black hair and brown eyes.
“Sora,” Ryoko said before standing and greeting him. The tenderness in her voice told me he must’ve been one of her husbands. One I hadn’t met yet. She smiled at me. “Kyo, this is Sora. We married five summers ago.”
He bowed his head to me. “I hope you are feeling better.”
“A little,” I answered. Physically anyway. My emotional state was a different story. I studied his face. “You seem kind of familiar.”
