Sky Warriors: Poleuthan's Thief (Sky Warriors Saga Book 1) (44 page)

She stared at herself as Showl saw her, his emotions were mixed in with the experience as he watched her lunge forward to his previous life’s student, recalling strategies and maneuvers she had been taught. His anxiety for Ange conflicted with his desire for her to succeed.

Ange watched as she suddenly jumped, avoiding a long double slash from Ileana.

She stared amazed at the scene as her body rocketed over eight feet into the air before landing precariously on Ileana’s upheld blades.

The memory cut off and Ange opened her eyes again, staring up at the window ceil with a sense of pride and wonder.

She glanced at Showl who was smiling confidently, staring at her, waiting for her to test the fact he had just shared with her.

Ange smiled, curious and determined. She bent down, feeling the strain in her muscles, measuring their strength, she shuffled her feet a little further apart to give herself more spring. She pushed off the ground, blazing through the air for a moment as her feet moved forward as if she was only taking a step. She stood a moment later on
the ceil next to Showl, her body arced slightly forward as her arms stretched out to her sides. She smiled, exhilarated and jumped again, it took so little effort as if her body was simply overwhelmed with spare energy.

Before she knew it she was on the ceil of the lit room, pressing her back to the side and gazing in as Showl quietly landed on the other end of the ceil, pressing himself back and peering in cautiously with his raptor yellow eyes, all playfulness gone.

She gazed into the room that was obviously fashioned as an office. Filing cabinets lined the far wall and lamps and other expensive oddities dotted the room. An ebony wood desk was shaped in a curved oval so that the ends were close to the one in the seat. A large black leather chair had its back facing them. A figure shorter than the backrest was studiously writing on papers upon the desk.

Instinctually Ange recognized Daren though she could not see him. Her anger returned as she glared at his obscure shape. She gently slid her blade between the vertical frames till the edge of the metal softly
touched and  pushed the latch up, her fingers gently grabbed the door panel as Showl grabbed the other, slowly they swung open only wide enough for Ange to slip in.

She didn’t glance at Showl but could feel his concern as she softly slipped in.

Her grip tightened on the hilts of her daggers and it took all her restraint from simply jumping forward and stabbing the boy she had once thought was her friend and brother.

Her right dagger gently swooped forward just as he seemed to twitch as if realizing something was wrong, but the blade was already at his throat as Ange hovered behind the backrest.

Ange’s voice came out seething, cold. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat.”

The pen that has been in his right hand rolled out and the dagger that he had pulled out on his left hand fell with a clatter, echoing in the silent room, his voice trembling with disbelief and emotion as he spoke.

“Ange?” he whispered as if fearing it wasn’t true.

“Answer me!” she roared, her hand clutching at the dagger tighter, pushing the metal closer to the soft skin of his neck. Showl’s hand landed on her shoulder, stopping her from pulling the blade across Daren’s flesh.

“I will,” he answered quietly, “if you will let me see your face.”

Ange gritted her teeth, infuriated that he believed he had the right to ask anything of her. Showl’s cajoled thoughts finally made her relent and she pulled her dagger away but still clutching it close to her side. Showl released her of his hand as she took a step back.

The office seat turned and for the first time in months she was looking into the green gaze of Daren. She stared frigidly into his wide eyes, swollen with tears as he stared at her, taking no notice of Showl behind her. The same pouty eyes that had moved her as a child to help him, she would not let them deceive her now.

His eyes were duller than she remember, and his appearance seemed haggard, his face a little shallower. His hair was trimmed but still wild messy brown curls and his suit though pressed and neat seemed to be hiding a fragile body underneath and for a moment she felt pity for him.

She examined the shame, remorse, relief, sorrow, and joy that swirled in his eyes as he stared at her with veiled hope as if a ghost had appeared that he was afraid to lose.

“You’re alive,” he whispered awed.

“Obviously,” Ange spat, “but no thanks to you.”

He recoiled at her words as if she had punched him. “I thought you were dead,” he whispered pained. “I sent out a search party for you but all they found was a dead
rinorse in the trench along with scraps of your clothes, frozen, peeking out of the snow. They said your body would be impossible to recover…”

Ange glared, uninterested in his rambling, she wanted answers.

She snarled. “I said answer me! Why did you do it Daren? Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t gut you right now!” she voiced with venom in her tone, a small part of her cringing at the violence building up in her, the part of her heart that still cared for Daren and didn’t want to harm him.

“Tell her Daren, before she does something rash as usual.”

Ange’s glare shot to the door where Vera leaned against its frame, gazing into the room at them in a remote manner.

Ange scoffed unsurprised and latched her gaze back at Daren, waiting for his pathetic excuse. His green eyes met her as he glanced back from Vera.

“Ange, I’m sorry,” he whispered pathetically, his frame crumpling in place as his eyes glazed and cast down. “But…I did it to save you.”

Ange let out a loud ironic laugh, her impatience building with her fury at his words. Daren gazed up at her
pathetically, she finally fell silent as Showl speared into her head with a dragon’s snarl. But she wasn’t afraid of it, but it did topple her mad thoughts from going out of control.

“That’s your excuse? You were trying to save me from a sinful life of crime?” she snorted with dark amusement before her voice pitched up with fury. “Did you ever consider that wasn’t your choice to make!?”

For a moment she didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed that her powers had been sealed because the explosion of emotions in her would have surly left everyone around her frozen as ice statues.

“No, it wasn’t my choice. But it was my choice whether you died or lived,” Daren replied gruffly.

Ange froze, gazing at him carefully as his eyes darkened bitterly.

“Jason, is the Prince of the Silver Weasels, and for a long time he had been assisting the
heads of their guild on how to take down Vera and the Black Owls. I didn’t know who he was, he was nice to me and I thought he was my friend…he figured out my weakness and he used it against me to destroy the guild.”

Ange felt confusion rise in her as she stared at him, waiting with
bated breath.

Daren groaned. “He had a contract for your life with the Crimson Crows and he used it to get me to do what he wanted…”

Ange’s blood boiled, sudden understanding to the confusing enigma that had been his betrayal was suddenly clear. The missing element revealed itself and her anger for him washed away almost completely.

He had betrayed them to save her life, a fact she didn’t know she should feel relieved about or ashamed at the fact that she valued her life over the guild. Ange blocked Showl from her mind as she thought carefully on the revelation.

I really am selfish.
She thought with disgust but her mind was only filled with an image of Showl, dying because she had met her end and him suffering another reincarnation cycle... She suddenly realized it was not her life she valued, it was his and she felt no shame in admitting it. If it weren’t for Daren, the Showl she knew would be dead and she couldn’t be more grateful for Daren’s sacrifice and devotion that had preserved Showl’s current life.

“Did you know about this?” she whispered looking at Vera.

Vera sighed sadly. “Not till afterwards, believe me, I almost killed Daren myself,” she admitted suddenly sounding tired and older than she was. “But it is not his fault, Jason Argent is the son of a noble family that I held in trust, I had no idea the devil was part of the Silver Weasels. I spoke to them of adopting you both and that is how Jason found my weakness and exploited it by getting near Daren.”

Ange stared wide-eyed at the revealed truth, shocked and baffled as the missing pieces fell into place of a once incomplete puzzle. Her anger molded into a new target, an image of the coy and cunning boy manifested in her mind. Somehow she admitted she admire his thorough and successful ploy but nonetheless wanted a dagger stabbed deep into his pretty face.

She let out a tired sigh, the anger had left her and now she felt horribly drained, yet relieved. She sheathed her daggers and stared out at nothing, contemplating her plans, she didn’t know what she wanted to do now. Her whole passion and life had revolved around Vera, Daren, and the Black Owls, but now that the dream was shattered and her vengeance an empty cause, she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what she wanted, what she could do with herself.

“Stay by my side,”
Showl pleaded quietly, gently.

She glanced back at him, meeting his yellow eyes and smiled faintly.

“What else could I possibly do?”
she asked rhetorically with amusement.
“Our lives are forever intertwined, aren’t they?”

“You still have a choice,”
he replied softly, though her words brought him a measure of joy.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,”
she assured, giving him a genuine smile.

Pure bliss radiated from Showl and he smiled back, but worry and fear darkened their shared good mood as they thought of the hard and dark unknown path before them, one that ultimately ended with a battle for their lives and all they cared for against the most powerful of the dragons to have ever lived…

“Ange…” she looked back at Daren as he slowly stood up and met her gaze. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

Ange sighed and gave him a partial ironic smile. “I’m still mad at you. I can’t believe you were stupid enough to trust that conniving ferret. Here I thought you were the smarter of the two if us but it turns out you’re still as innocent as ever.”

He suddenly hugged her, squeezing her tightly, startling her.

“That’s fine, you’re alive, and that’s all I care about,” he whispered.

Ange frowned, he was trembling, his hands were shaking against her back, and she could feel it even through her armor. A sob broke from Daren and he shook further as he began to cry. Sorrow filled Ange and she hugged him back fiercely, happy she had never truly lost her best friend and never as happy to have been wrong in her life.

He was skinnier than she remembered, she could feel his ribs, the weakness in his frame.

“What have you been doing, Daren?” she asked angrily pulling back. “You’re all bones!” she snarled with disapproval. “You’re living in a freaking noble’s house, wearing fine clothes but you still can’t afford to eat properly?”

He grinned at her banter, rubbing the tears from his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop repeating that!” Ange snapped worried.

“He hasn’t been eating properly,” Vera stated grimly with annoyance. “The doctor I brought over said it was due to
severe depression and that I should keep an eye on him before I found him hanging from the ceiling and coax him into eating before he dies of malnutrition or starvation.”

Ange glared pointedly at Daren, disappointed with his behavior. He shrugged unconcerned, his eyes bright as he looked her over.

“Can we do anything Showl?”
she begged, worried.

“No, but perhaps Grace or Ileana can,”
he stated honestly.

“You look so different,” Daren commented. “What happened to you? Where did you go? What have you been doing?”

Ange’s lip puckered as she replied. “I can’t really say, but I’ve been doing fine. I’ve mostly been stuck in books these past few months.”

Daren stared wide-eyed with disbelief. “You? In books?”
             

Ange snorted amused by his expression. “Yes, me. I’m not illiterate anymore or as ignorant,” she stated a bit pleased that she now stood on more equal grounds as Daren in education.

Daren smiled, proud.

Ange let out a short breath, mentally relaxing for the first time in a long amount of months.

“I’m afraid we can’t stick around and talk. We need to get back to the party,” she said regretfully.

Daren raised an eyebrow, confused.

“They are also attending Lockharch’s Archaeological Revelation Party,” Vera stated.

“They?” he echoed quietly, for the first time he looked around Ange, his eyes growing wide as he looked at Showl, his body growing rigid.

“You’re…that man,” he stated bewildered, shocked.

Showl stared at him closely, perplexed. “Have we met?”

Ange switched her stare between them, very confused. “How is that possible?”

“Remember when I told you a strange man once told me the story of the dragon Angeline right after the fire?” he questioned not moving his gaze from Showl.