Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

W arm water flows down my body, soothing my aching muscles, and I relax my head back. Being a guardian angel is tough. I never expected to have to kill so many angels, and to be honest, I don’t think guardians usually do. Why is this happening now? The burden of death weighs heavily on my shoulders, and it makes me replay those situations through my mind.

If I hadn’t killed them, they would have killed me. I know that. Except for that last watcher. Apparently, killing me hadn’t been part of the deal. Who was making deals with the watchers, anyway?

The bathroom is steamy when I turn the water off and step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my body. My guardian markings gleam a little under the light, and I finally take the time to study the intricate patterns. Delicate vines flow up my fingers and wrap around my arms, with tiny leaves and flowers dotted along the vines. The flowers are called Sharpae, beautiful pink and purple flowers from the Dark Forest. They’re poisonous and said to be the protectors of the forest, alongside Zelons.

Guardian markings are unique to each guardian, which makes them feel even more special.

A loud thud from within my quarters startles me. I reach for my daggers and then carefully open the door, peeking into the room. No one is there. I push the door open farther and slowly cross the room toward my bed. There’s a note sitting in the middle of my bed, and I pick it up and turn it over to see my name written across the front.

A knock sounds at my door, and it opens. Although it’s hard to tell the twins apart, I know it’s Yimel, my father’s guard, as he pokes his head into my quarters. I quickly hide the note and my daggers behind my back as he scans the room. His short red hair is styled perfectly to the side, which matches his twin brother’s, Rimel. Another guard of my father’s. His gaze traces over my body, making me feel more than a little uncomfortable. The twins always have that effect on me.

“Sorry to bother you, miss. I heard something. Everything okay?” His gaze focuses on my hands behind my back.

“Yes, everything’s fine.” My cheeks flush. I hate lying, and I have always found it difficult.

He hovers for a moment and narrows his eyes, as if deciding whether he believes me, before he leaves and closes the door. I lock my door and take a seat on my bed. After placing my daggers down, I open the note.

Zarla, I write to warn you of the imminent danger you are in. You must be careful. Trust no one. The answers may be found within your mother’s quarters.

The words send a chill down my spine as I stare at the note, rereading it several times before tucking it away in my bedside drawer. Whoever is sending me these notes knows what really happened to my mother. I can feel it, and it appears to be different to what I have been told happened growing up.

There is only one person who can give me any answers.

Yimel and Rimel are standing guard outside my father’s quarters when I approach, their hazel eyes focused on me. I ignore them both and wait as they open the door for me. My father is sitting in his dark-brown leather chair next to the fire, two glasses of red wine poured next to him.

“Expecting company?” I ask as I walk over to him, arms crossed.

He remains seated and gestures for me to join him. Reluctantly, I take a seat on the leather couch opposite him. We have never been all that close, and I always find these one-on-one moments strange. The warmth from the fire soothes me somewhat, and I breathe in the deep, earthy scent of the burning wood.

He smiles at me, his eyes wrinkling a little at the sides, and takes a sip of his wine before placing the glass back down. “I am.”

Nervously, I tuck my hair behind my ears. “I’ll make this quick, then. What’s going on with the watchers? Why are they attacking us?”

He strokes his silver beard and stares into the flames. The crackle of the fire is comforting, especially in this tense situation. He crosses his ankle over his knee.

“We don’t yet know, but we are looking into it. We have killed all the watchers who attacked, so we cannot question them.” His eyes settle on mine in a disapproving glare, and he takes another sip of wine.

I lean forward and rest my forearms against my knees. “There was one who survived, but Amaros killed him. What would you have me do? Let them kill me first?”

He places his glass down and then taps his fingers on the armrest. “Of course not. But when they are all dead, so too is any lead on their motivations.”

We may not be able to question the ones who are dead, but there are millions more who are still alive in their Kingdom, Galespo.

“He mentioned something strange to me, the watcher. He said killing me wasn’t part of the deal he made.”

My father sits forward, his expression unreadable. “I think it best we do not read into the words of the watchers. Especially when we cannot question them of their meaning.”

I frown at him. “But you can. Why not travel to Galespo and find out?”

He gets to his feet and stands closer to the fire, staring into the flames. “Zarla, there is much you do not know. Long ago, after the three Kingdoms were forged, the watchers started a war, not just with us, but with Zarquon, too. When the war showed no signs of letting up, we agreed to a cease-fire and formed a peace treaty.”

I rub my face, taking in this new information. “So then, why has it been broken?”

He holds a hand up. “Let me finish explaining. The three Kingdoms, Silanthia, Zarquon and Galespo, agreed on several angel laws that we would each abide to. That is how The Throne was formed within each Kingdom. It enabled us to end the war, and it is how we have coexisted. The watchers agreed to watch over the angels on Earth to ensure they upheld these laws.

“Zarquon didn’t like the arrangement. They were greedy and wanted more. We were frequently on high alert, expecting another war. They didn’t like there being three separate Kingdoms, and they wanted to rule over them all, which would never work. When they killed your mother…” He pauses, staring into nothing as if reliving the memory. “Well, the treaty with them was tarnished. Ever since, we have kept our distance, and we no longer allow them into our Kingdom, and they do not allow us into theirs.”

Wow. How did I not learn about this history?

I bite the inside of my cheek, still not understanding something. “Okay, I understand that, but that doesn’t explain why you can’t just go to Galespo and speak with the watchers.”

My father picks up his wine and takes a long sip, and then he finishes it before placing it back down. “My fear is that they may have crossed us and are conspiring with our enemies for war.”

“If it is only a suspicion, Father, wouldn’t it be worth clearing it up before things get out of hand? Could we send some angels to meet with them?”

He smiles at me. “You remind me so much of your mother. She was always trying to find a solution, always wanting to help everyone and ensure peace amongst the angels.”

I take my mother’s locket out from beneath my robes, holding it for him to see.

His brows furrow as he stares at it, recognition flashing in his features. “Where did you get that?”

I turn it over in my hands as I study his reaction. “It doesn’t matter. It was my mother’s though. I know that much.” I hesitate for a moment before I say the words I have battled with internally for most of my life. “I want to visit her quarters.”

The shift in the air is clear as his mood changes, and he raises his guard back up. “Why now? You have never wanted to before.”

I draw back at his harsh tone. “Because she is my mother, and it’s all I have left. I’m ready.”

He crosses the room to his desk, and then he opens a small drawer and pulls out a key. He stares at me for a moment before walking back over and holding the key out for me to take.

“Here,” he softly says. “This is the key to her quarters. It’s on the fifth floor, but I am sure you remember. You used to sneak up there when you were young, but you never went in.”

I tuck the locket away and take the key from him, swallowing back the lump in my throat as tears sting my eyes. “I remember,” I say, turning the key in my fingers before slipping it into my pocket. “Do you think that’s what’s really going on? That Zarquon is planning a war?”

He reaches out and strokes my arm. “I think?—”

There’s a knock at the door, interrupting his words, and Hethenos steps into the room. I turn away, quickly wiping my eyes.

My father immediately goes to her and then he takes her hand and brushes his lips against her golden skin. Her gaze stays on me, and I hold it.

“Hi, Zarla. What do we owe the pleasure?” she asks, practically spitting the words out and side-eying Harlum, as if she doesn’t understand what I could possibly be doing visiting my own father.

Careful to keep my distance, I cross the room and stop before them. We have never hugged before, and I know we never will. She made it clear that I don’t matter to her. She is always cold towards me and has never let me in, even when I was desperate for a mother. Lissian took on the role of my mother as best she could.

Hethenos’s blonde hair hangs in loose waves just below her shoulders, and she’s wearing a black, fitted, sleeveless gown with a plunging neckline. She stands with her hand on her hip, waiting for my response.

“I’m just leaving,” I say, giving her a tight-lipped smile as I move past out into the corridor.

I never understood my father’s affections for her. From what I learned about my mother, mostly from Lissian, Hethenos is the polar opposite of her. She’s cold-hearted, blunt, and nasty. Somehow she won over my father’s heart, and despite being the King, he practically worships her.

The door closes behind me, and I don’t bother looking back. I need to go to my mother’s quarters; I need to feel close to her, and just maybe I will find the answers I’m looking for while I’m there.

My chest tightens as I climb the stairs and make my way to the fifth floor. I haven’t visited this part of the castle in a long time, and every time the thought crosses my mind, a deep sadness overcomes me. So I shut this part of me out. I pretend this floor, her quarters, don’t exist. But the coping mechanism will only last so long. I know that much. Eventually, I know I will need to suck it up.

The walls are pale stone, the ceilings high, and each level stretches on farther than the eye can see. There are angels carved into the walls, depicting the Great War and many other milestones throughout our history. This castle is ancient. No one really knows when it was first built, as it has been passed down from King to King for generations.

Several keepers pass by me on the second floor, and they each seem surprised to see me. This is the floor where they live along with my father’s personal guards. I smile as I carry on by them and continue up the steps. When I reach the fifth floor, I pause. Originally the royal family lived on this floor as it was superior to be able to have a view overlooking some of the Kingdom. However, after my mother’s murder, my father moved us all to the first floor.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, and sneeze as dust tickles my nose. The keepers haven’t been up here to clean since her death, at my father’s request. I think he, too, wants to pretend this floor doesn’t exist. It’s easier that way, for all of us.

I make my way down the enormously wide corridor that stretches down the centre of this floor. Doors line the cream walls, leading to the vast living quarters behind them, and the deep red carpet looks worn in places, due for replacement by the looks of it.

Although I haven’t been up here for years, I know which quarters were hers. She lived separately from my father, which was tradition when he had more than one wife. It’s common amongst the higher-class angel families for the male to have several wives, although I still find it gross.

I’m almost at her door when suddenly my chest tightens, and I struggle to take in a decent breath. I gasp as I fall to my knees, panic surging through my body.

It’s Kyle. He’s in danger.

Without further thought, I rush to the nearest windows and push them open. I dive out and release my wings as I soar up high, flying toward the gates. They open fast, and before I know it, I’m flying down to Earth, to Kyle.

My heart pounds in my chest as I play through possible scenarios of what is happening. The bond isn’t picking up much from him, certainly not fear, but I know something is wrong.

Finlay? I call through the mind link, but there’s no response. It’s just blank. Like I’m blocked out or something. What the hell?

Panic creeps up my spine as I fly down towards Kyle’s house. Three angels come into view. Watchers.

I land with a thud about forty feet away from them. All three watchers are huge. The golden symbols on their invisible wings glow before they tuck them away. They don’t even flinch at my arrival, and I can see why. Kyle is standing on the porch, staring right at them. They don’t have their veils up, and neither do I.

Before I can do anything about it, I catch one of the watchers reaching for his sword. I rush forward, unleashing my powers on him, and throw him off to the side of the yard. Another watcher pulls his sword and comes at me as the third watcher advances on Kyle. Before I can react, Kyle charges at him and attacks.

I’m too focused on Kyle to see the watcher coming. He lands a blow to my ribs, and I’m sent flying into the ground. I feel a crack and wince, grabbing my side. The watcher slowly stalks toward me, and I reach for my daggers.

His lips curl into an evil smirk. “We were warned about you, the King’s daughter. But you don’t seem so tough to me.”

A copper taste fills my mouth. I crawl to my feet, holding my daggers out in front of me. His eyes narrow on my locket hanging around my neck, and he charges forward. He grabs my wrist and snatches my locket from my neck. I use my free hand to slice my dagger across his side. He flinches back slightly before smacking me hard across the face.

I fall backwards into the ground and roll onto my stomach. Shit, he has my locket.

He moves toward me and chuckles before he kicks me in my side. I cry out as pain cuts through me, and he kicks me again. A cool feeling builds within me and I roll onto my back. Just when he moves to kick me again, my powers surge from my fingers like vines, wrap around his ankle, and toss him forty feet away.

He struggles to his feet while I do the same. He comes at me again, looking a little off-balance, and I release my power, throwing him up into the air and send him crashing into the ground in a twisted heap. This time he doesn’t move. I hurry over to him, snatch my locket from his hand, and slip it into my pocket.

My attention immediately shifts to Kyle, where he and the last remaining watcher are fighting. Kyle throws a punch at him, launching him back where he smashes into a nearby tree. I take in a sharp breath. How the hell did he do that? And then his gaze finds mine.

We stare at one another without saying a word, and a sudden jolt of electricity flows through my body. I blink a few times, confused at what just happened. Kyle frowns, and appears just as confused as I am. Did he feel it too? An unfamiliar feeling grows inside me that is urging me forward to Kyle. A sense of needing to be closer to him overpowers me, and I give in to it, and move closer.

Then I remember I’ve been so caught up in getting here to protect Kyle that I’ve gone in without my veil. I avert my attention to the watcher rolling around in the yard before attempting to get up on unsteady feet. I reach my hand out and blast him with a ball of power, and he stills.

Shoot. What am I supposed to do? My father is going to kill me when he finds out. In fact, The Throne may just kill me for this. I am breaking angel law by being seen.

Kyle’s brows knit together as he stares at me, and I know he deserves an explanation. I raise my hands and slowly walk toward him, but stop a few feet away. The strange feeling inside me that is like some kind of overpowering connection, grows stronger the closer I am to him. How can I possibly explain this situation?

“Who are you?” he asks, his voice the perfect, soothing mix of calm yet determined focus that makes my heart race.

I bite the inside of my cheek as I form the words in my head. “I’m Zarla.”

He shakes his head and takes a step closer, reaching his hand out to me. “ What are you, and what are they ?” he asks with a wave around the yard to the now dead watchers. “Because you’re clearly not human.”

I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, and saw my teeth along it as I try to find the right words. Gods above, please forgive me. “I’m a guardian angel. Your guardian angel.” I pause a moment before continuing. “And they were watchers, a type of angel from another Kingdom. I’m so sorry. You weren’t supposed to see any of this.”

I search his face for any sign of how he’s handling this new information as I wait for his response. My gaze drops to his lips before it meets his, and I find him staring at me. I swallow hard, trying to clear my head when I notice blood dripping from a deep cut in his arm. Without thinking, I rush forward, and he flinches back.

I hold my hands up. “I’m sorry. I just want to check that you’re okay.”

He holds his arm up. “I’m fine, see?”

My eyes saucer as I watch the cut heal. “How did you…”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve always been able to do it.”

His expression is a mixture of confusion and deep pain that cuts through me. I can sense how alone he feels. I can’t help but want to comfort him, to take some of that pain away that I know he’s holding on to.

“I can heal, too,” I tell him.

He runs a hand through his dark-brown hair and takes a few steps back. “This is insane.”

His words slice through me like a sharp blade, and I withdraw slightly.

“I’m so sorry you had to witness this. I’ll go.” I’m about to leave when he slips his hand gently around my wrist.

An instant spark ignites a fire within me that flows through my body at his touch, and my breath quickens as we lock stares. He can feel it too. I know it.

“Please don’t go,” he pleads, his voice soft.

We stare at each other for a moment, and then without further thought, I wrap my arms around him. His arms encase me and the electric current between us flows deeper, along with the feeling that comes with it. Home. Warmth surges through my body as I breathe in his scent of rainwater and fresh cut grass, totally and utterly at peace in his arms.

“Wow,” he whispers, his breath grazing past my ear.

I pull back and stare up into his steel-blue eyes, feeling something so familiar about him, but I can’t put my finger on it.

“I feel like I know you,” he says, searching my face for an answer, “like really know you.”

Despite the impossibility of it, I feel it too. But I can’t know him. He lives here on Earth. He’s a human, I think. Although I didn’t know humans could be so strong as to take on a watcher and survive. And he can heal himself. Humans can’t do that, at least not that fast.

I open my mouth to respond when I sense Finlay is near. Panic surges its way into my chest. “I’ve got to go. Please get back inside. I’ll return when I can, I promise.”

He hesitates, looking around the yard before settling his gaze on mine. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Finlay is close. I don’t have much time.

“Kyle, please,” I beg. “I will be in a lot of trouble if he sees me without the veil up. Please, I will explain more when I come back.”

He scans my face before he reluctantly hurries up the porch steps and into the house. He watches me out the window as I raise my veil, and a soft thud sounds behind me as Finlay lands in the yard.

Finlay eyes me suspiciously, and then scans the yard before his eyes find mine once more. “Zarla, what the hell happened?”

Without thinking, I storm towards him and punch him in the face.