Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

D emetros gently takes hold of my arm, and I stop pacing. “You spoke with a goddess?”

Reluctantly, I meet his gaze, unsure whether to lie or tell them the truth. I mean, would I sound like I’m crazy, hallucinating or something?

“I don’t know. It was strange,” I say as he releases me, and I take a few steps away. “Someone spoke to me. I don’t know who, but?—”

“But what? What’d she say?” Lacinda asks, her gaze intent.

I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “She told me I wasn’t ready, that my powers are too strong, and they’ll come when I’m ready for them.”

Demetros runs a hand through his thick brown locks. “Wow. That’s pretty crazy.”

It’s more than crazy, and I’m already questioning whether I just imagined it. Sure, gods exist. They forged the Kingdoms. They’re an obvious part of our history. But are they still around, in some form or another? The idea makes more sense than it should, especially after what I just experienced. Maybe they are still around, watching over us.

“Have either of you ever heard of this happening before?” I ask.

“No, never,” Lacinda says.

Demetros shoves his hands into his pockets. “No. You’d think they would’ve taught it at the academy. In fact, they didn’t really tell us much about the gods at all.” He pauses for a moment before shrugging. “Well, at least you know you will get your powers, right? Eventually, anyway.”

I give him a tight-lipped smile as I try to hide my disappointment. “Let’s head back.”

After telling them I left something back in the arena, I make my way across the field, crunching over autumn leaves. I’m still trying to make sense of what I saw back in the forest, but it’s like trying to hold on to a dream, and with each passing moment, it fades further. If that really was a goddess, why would she come to me? None of it makes much sense.

I pull open the door to the academy and am barely inside when I hear footsteps approaching from behind. I turn to see Finlay and stop in my tracks.

“What is it?” I question.

He holds his hands up in surrender, a genuine smile showing off his perfectly white teeth. “I come in peace, I swear.”

I roll my eyes and carry on down the corridor toward the arena, and he jogs to catch up to me, falling into step at my side. What is it with this male? Maybe he has a split personality or something.

“So, what are you doing back in here? Classes are done for the day. Oh, hang on. Let me guess. You’re going to practice your sparring skills?”

I side-eye him and don’t respond as I continue walking.

“Am I right?”

I pause, turning to face him and let out a sigh. “What do you want, Finlay?”

He shuffles somewhat awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Nothing. I’m sorry for being such a dick. I don’t mean to be that way.”

I arch a brow at him, waiting for him to finish or get to the point. I don’t believe a word he’s saying. Finlay thrives on being a dick, not just to me, but to every other angel in this academy. But mostly to me and my friends. I always wondered if it was because I was to become a guardian and he was jealous of that.

It’s something we’re born with. White wings if we are to be a guardian, and silver if we are to be a second, or a backup guardian. Our birth line seems to play a part in it, but for the most part, it’s just the natural balance within the Kingdom as to what you are born to be.

He tugs on the straps of his backpack. “I just thought we could hang out. That’s all.”

I grimace at his words and roll my eyes before walking away. He has never shown any interest in being friends, so why now? There has to be some underlying motive at play, and I’m not in the mood to find out.

“No, wait!” he calls as he jogs to my side. “I’m serious. We’ve never really hung out before.”

A laugh escapes my lips. “Because you’re an asshole. Not just to me, but to everyone.”

He places a hand across his chest. “Ouch. So direct.”

What’s his deal? I stop at the arena entrance, bracing my hand against the doorframe. “Look, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, but I’m not interested.”

He bites his bottom lip as he casts his gaze away, shaking his head. “You know, you are a bitch,” he says before he storms off.

I throw my hands up in the air, not surprised one bit. Well, at least I’m right about him; he is an asshole. I so don’t have time for males like that, or their stupid games.

As I enter the arena, I’m thankful it’s still open and empty. I drop my bag next to the fighting mat I fought Astelle on earlier. My sparring skills need work, as well as my strength. Both are pretty crucial to being a guardian.

The arena is a small version of an indoor stadium, with thousands of seats spread around the sides, staggered up to the top row. There are six fighting mats spaced around the floor, with an inbuilt gym along the right-hand side for strength training. I haven’t spent much time here, as they expect us to train outside of classes in our own time, but it hasn’t really appealed to me. Mainly because I don’t know what the heck I’m doing.

Demetros offered to show me a few things, but we never got around to it. I decide to try the gym first, thankful to be alone. There won’t be an audience to watch me embarrass myself. I spend the next hour lifting weights, working on my core strength and my balance. By the time I’m done, I’m a sweaty mess.

I snatch a towel off the shelf and wipe my face. That wasn’t so bad. I’m not as weak as I thought I was. After a five-minute break, I spend the next hour practicing my flips and mid-air kicks. I finally decide enough is enough once my muscles are screaming for a break.

I hear clapping and catch the Master sitting near the side of the arena on a bench. He heads my way as I take a long drink of water. His wrinkled eyes hold more wisdom than I can imagine, and I can’t help but wonder about his age. His grey hair is pulled up into a bun, his dark brown robes tied at the waist with a gold belt.

“Well done, Zarla. I appreciate your dedication.”

I awkwardly smile at him, and he chuckles.

“You remind me of your mother,” he says with a smile. “She loved the arena. I found her in here practicing on her own more times than I can count. We even sparred together occasionally. She was a powerful angel.”

My vision blurs as tears sting my eyes. It always happens when people speak of my mother. Gods, I miss her. I snatch up my towel and wipe my tears away.

“Do not be afraid to show your weakness. It, too, can be a strength.”

“Thank you,” I say, then cough a little to clear the lump in my throat. “I don’t know much about my mother, so I appreciate you telling me.”

He takes a step forward, his hands clasped behind his back. “I see the potential in you, Zarla. Just as I did in your mother. You have Serona’s strength. And her courage. I haven’t seen either of those or felt their power since training her. But I see it and feel it here now, in you.”

I wipe my eyes once more. “So why can’t I harness my powers? Every single guardian and second in this academy has harnessed theirs. So why not me?”

His eyes soften as he stares at me before walking away. I frown, wondering if I have somehow offended him.

“Follow me, Zarla.”

I grab my bag off the ground, swing it onto my shoulder, and jog to catch up to him. He moves to the back of the arena where several offices are located and heads down a long corridor toward the end room, somewhere I haven’t been before. We pass three offices, each with frosted glass walls and doors creating privacy. The same cedar panelling lines the corridor, and I smile as I breathe in the sweet earthy scent of the wood.

We stop at the end of the corridor outside the room.

“I have something to show you,” he states, then pulls a set of keys from his pocket and unlocks the door.

The room is much bigger than I expect, lined with cedar and grey stone walls. The ceiling is low and the lighting dim. There is a grand oak wood desk near the back of the room and several shelves of books and folders scattered around the walls. I brush my fingers along them, noticing the fraying edges and worn covers. These books are old. Like really old.

He walks to the very back, and there is another space around the corner behind the desk. A wooden chest sits back there with the most delicately carved angels covering its surface.

“Wow,” I breathe, admiring the beauty of it. It appears ancient.

He gently opens the chest, but I can’t see inside from where I’m standing. He reaches in and pulls out something wrapped in a fine cream cloth. Whatever it is, it’s special. I can feel it. He holds the item out to me as he watches me through intent eyes, and I take it. It’s tied with what appears to be dried strands of a plant. I untie it and gently unfold the cloth to reveal two golden daggers with red and green stones encrusted in the handles. They are absolutely beautiful, and somehow I can feel their warmth radiating through my hands into me.

“They were your mother’s.”

My gaze snaps up to the Master, and I almost drop the daggers. “What?”

He chuckles. “Your mother loved her weapons. They were a treasure to her. She never went anywhere without them. When you were born, she asked that I keep them safe for you. She asked that I give them to you on your eighteenth birthday.”

I knit my brows together. “But that’s tomorrow.”

He softly smiles, the fine wrinkles on either side of his eyes showing with the movement. “I know, but something tells me you’ll need them before then.”

His words send shivers up my spine, but I brush the feeling aside. He has always been cryptic in his choice of words.

“Why wouldn’t she have planned to give them to me herself?”

He places his hands on mine. “It is not for us to question her decisions. The past is the past. Please take them, Zarla. They are yours.”

I study them for a moment, wondering how I will carry them, before the Master hands me some leather straps.

“Here, take these. You can strap the daggers to your thighs or your ankles, however you wish.”

I take the straps and slip them over my boots, adjusting them around my thighs before slipping the daggers in. “How did my mother wear them?”

His lips curl up at the sides. “She strapped them to her thighs, just like that.”

I can almost picture it—my mother with her daggers strapped to her thighs. Having them strapped to mine gives me a sense of comfort, as if she’s here with me. “Thank you. This means everything to me.”

He gently nods and ushers me toward the door. “You must be cautious, Zarla. I suspect your powers may mirror those of your mother’s. Her powers overcame her at times, but she learned to control them. You must be careful.”

As I wind my way back through the academy hallways, the Master’s words echo through my mind. I can’t help the fear that seeps in as I imagine the powers I will soon have. My mother’s daggers press against my thighs as I walk and somehow send warmth through my body, as if they are telling me they will protect me.

It’s a strange but welcoming sensation. It helps me feel closer to my mother somehow. When I reach the entrance to the academy, I step outside and release my wings before lifting up into the air. I remember being afraid to fly, but now it feels like second nature to me, as easy as breathing or walking. It brings a sense of calm that, ironically, helps ground me.

The wind catches my wings and carries me high above the Kingdom as I fly toward my family castle. The entire Kingdom is visible from up here. Well, most of it at least, including the Dark Forest, somewhere I have only visited a few times. There is something about that forest that has always called to me, and leaves me curious to explore it further.

The houses below appear tiny while the many manors stand proud. My family’s castle is clearly visible, nestled out of the city near a winding river. Demetros’s manor is nearby, his family having been close family friends of ours since before I was born.

There are about two dozen other manors placed within a gated area outside the perimeter of our castle, around the outskirts of the city. It’s where the other high-level angel families live, and I have the most gorgeous view of it from up here. I close my eyes as I gently glide down, allowing the wind to carry me where I need to go. The castle comes into view as I descend, showing off the beautiful architecture of the building. It has been around for longer than anyone can remember.

As I approach, I spot Amaros, Yimel, Rimel, and Mikel, my father’s guards, hovering in the courtyard. Rimel and Yimel are redheaded twins and are both enormous angels. They have always made me feel uncomfortable, and Amaros has noticed and makes sure they are never too close. Mikel has always been kind to me, and I enjoy his company. He was the one to teach me to fly when my father was too busy.

Amaros doesn’t like when I approach the castle this way. He expects angels to fly in and land outside the castle boundary, but I’m the King’s daughter, so there isn’t much they can or will do about it. I land with a soft thud on the limestone shingles outside the main entrance doors. Mikel sends me a wink as Amaros strides toward me.

“Zarla,” he greets me with a gentle nod, “I thought we had a discussion on proper entrance into the castle?”

I can sense his frustration and see it in his strained features. As my wings disappear into my back, I press my lips together to hide my smirk. “I don’t see the issue with it. Never have.”

He scans my face. “It’s only for your protection.”

His focus drops to my thighs and lands on my mother’s daggers, his eyes widening for a moment before settling back into their usual composure. Does he recognise them?

“The Master gave them to me,” I explain, reaching down and touching one of them.

He awkwardly clears his throat. “They suit you. I am sure your mother would be happy for you to have them.”

A familiar ache grows in my chest, and I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Something inside tells me to be quiet about the fact that my mother specifically left them to me. I shoot him a forced smile and head into the castle. My father’s guards can be incredibly overpowering, and it’s exhausting. I have enough on my plate right now. I don’t need another argument about how I enter my home.

When I reach my quarters, I close the doors and lean against the cool wood, letting the air woosh out of my lungs. I need to get it together. When I was only two years old, an angel from our enemy's Kingdom, Zarquon, murdered my mother. I barely remember her at all, but every time she’s mentioned in conversation, it causes an ache in my chest that’s difficult to bear.

I miss her more than words can describe, so to have something of hers is almost a release in my chest, easing some of the pain. I take one of the daggers from my straps, studying the stones embedded in the handle. It’s stunning, and I feel a familiar warmth sweeping over me as I hold it. As I study the details, the stones glow red and green, and my eyes widen.

The colours surge out of the dagger in streams before circling around me and flowing into my chest. I instantly feel their power inside my body, and I know this power is now my own. Instinctively, I somehow know it’s a healing power. I take the dagger, and without hesitation, I gently glide the blade across my palm.

Blood oozes from the cut, but then it heals before my eyes. The skin knits together, and there’s nothing left but blood. I rush into my bathroom and grab a cloth, then wipe the blood away, and my breath catches. There’s nothing there, not even a mark where I cut my hand. My lip, too, has healed from my fight with Astelle earlier.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, and I swear my green eyes are glowing a little. I have finally unleashed one of my powers.

The power to heal.