Wrath of the Forgotten: Descendants of the Fall Book II, Hodges, Aaron [top 10 non fiction books of all time txt] 📗

the king’s eyes. The anger slipped from her like water through a sieve. He might have only been acting—he was a king after all—but something about the way he spoke about her father, of Calafe, Erika found herself believing him.

“What’s done is done,” she said finally. “Regardless of the past, it seems you are now the lesser of two evils, Your Majesty.” She bowed her head, projecting defeat. It would not hurt for this man to underestimate her. “The Flumeeren Queen is mad—she would do anything to gain the magic I hold.”

To her surprise, Nguyen laughed. “The courts of Flumeer have trained you well, Princess.” Erika started at the title—only her father had ever called her that—but the man continued before she could reply. “You do not need to flatter me, nor belittle my rivals. I imagine Amina and I are much alike. We both seek to protect our nations, to keep our peoples safe from enemies. Though, I’ll admit our approaches tend to differ somewhat.”

Erika frowned and glanced at Maisie, struggling to piece together the meaning behind the king’s words, but the spy only shrugged. On the other couch, Cara still sat glaring at the two of them. The king had not yet addressed the Goddess, and for herself, Cara had been remarkably quiet for the duration of the conversation. Almost as though—

Click.

A cry burst from Erika’s lips as the steel cuffs slid from the Goddess’s wrists. With a flicker of movement she was on her feet. The jacket kept her from spreading her wings and chains still bound her legs, but the shimmer in her eyes suggested they would not hinder her.

In panic, Erika lifted her gauntleted hand and the magic ignited in her fingertips. Its power thrummed in her ears and she felt that familiar rush, the feeling of ecstasy that promised she could destroy her enemies…

…a gasp tore from Erika and she staggered, closing her fist, smothering the magic.

What was that?

A growl returned her attention to Cara. A snarl twisted the Goddess’s face and before anyone could react, she leapt for the king, fingers outstretched...

…only to slam down into one of the glass tables, all momentum stolen from her spring. A scream tore from Cara’s throat as she smashed through the glass, sending shards tumbling across the floor. Then the cry cut off, though her mouth was still stretched wide, the veins of her throat bulging against her skin. Glass cut her flesh as she thrashed amongst the remnants of the table, as though she were in some great agony…

Erika’s gaze dropped to her gauntlet, but the light remained dim, its power subdued. It was not she that had struck down the Goddess.

“I see you’re getting better with the gauntlet’s power,” Maisie said as she stepped around the ruin of the table.

Turning, Erika took in the king’s outstretched left hand. But he didn’t wear a gauntlet, only the leather riding gloves…the breath hissed from Erika’s throat as she realised what he’d done. He hadn’t been going for a ride—the gloves were to conceal the ancient artefact he wore, a mirror of her own.

Smiling gently, the king finally lowered his hand and Cara slumped amongst the glass, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Despite herself, Erika felt a rush of guilt at the Goddess’s treatment. This wasn’t right. Cara had been her friend, had saved her life. And this was how she repaid her?

“An interesting weapon, don’t you think?” the king said conversationally as he stepped up alongside Erika to regard the crumpled Goddess. “I take it this is the fabled creature that was seen soaring over the waters of the Illmoor?”

Erika swallowed. “Goddess,” she rasped, then belatedly added: “Her name is Cara.”

“Does it speak?” the king asked.

A muffled snarl came from Cara as she pushed herself to her hands and knees. “Yes,” she spat.

The king raised his gauntlet, his smile unchanged. “Well that’s an improvement on the Tangata at least.”

Breath hissed between Cara’s teeth as she looked at the king. “You humans really know nothing about who you fight, do you?”

“Little enough,” Nguyen agreed, surprisingly jovial for someone that had just been attacked by a God. “Was there a gap in our knowledge you would like to fill in for us?”

Cara sat back on her haunches. “I’m sure your ignorance could fill the endless miles between the earth and our moon,” she muttered. She shifted her shoulders, then winced and glanced at the king. “Am I allowed to stretch, or are you going to smite me again, oh mighty king?”

Nguyen chuckled as he stepped back and gestured for her to stand. Cara climbed to her feet, obviously wary. Slowly, hesitantly, she pulled the jacket from her shoulders.

The king inhaled sharply as wings stretched across the room. Joints creaked and a moan of relief slipped from Cara’s throat. The auburn feathers shone in the light of the chandelier and even Erika found herself retreating a step. Belatedly the king raised his gauntlet, but this time Cara made no move to attack. Instead, she closed her eyes and her face softened, obviously relieved to finally be free of the jacket’s confinement.

Erika swallowed, still not quite able to process the sight. A feather had come free with the jacket, and it drifted across the room, coming to rest at her feet. It was almost a foot long and half as broad as her hand. Instinctively she crouched and picked it up, turning it in her fingers. In the days since fleeing Fogmore, her fear had been such that her mind had not lingered on the Goddess, but looking at the feather in her hand, the implications of what she’d done finally began to catch up with her.

Across the room, Cara opened her eyes and saw that they were all staring. Red tinged her cheeks and the wings quickly retracted against her back. Her gaze fell to the floor.

“You really have no idea how uncomfortable that thing is…” she muttered, gesturing at the jacket.

Erika swallowed, unable to summon the words.