But I reminded myself I needed him.
No matter how much his expression, captivating eyes, or blunt words pissed me off, I needed him to save Aspen.
General Ronen lightened his hold as if he were about to let me fall down the stairs, but instead, he scooped me up and plopped me on Rune. She wagged her tail happily.
He stood there for a moment, like he expected a thanks or an apology. I didn’t want to, but I had to make him like me.
“Thank you,” I said, putting effort into sounding genuine.
He scoffed and turned.
I glared daggers at his back, flexing my fingers in Rune’s fur. We continued down the stairs after him and through a couple more halls. Rune stopped when we arrived at a wooden door with a frosted handle.
The general knocked thrice in quick succession. The frosted handle thawed, and we entered a sitting room larger than mine. While mine featured shades of red and white, this one matched my bedroom—all dark reds and black. A crackling fire blazed in the back, next to two iced-over windows and a circle of comfortable seating. But no one was here.
“And she’s riding your Soulhound, why, General?”
I jerked to my left, finding the king coming from a different room. Behind him, my mom rested on a bed.
“Mom?” I leaped off Rune. “Mom!” My feet hit the ground hard, and I stumbled, falling to my knees.Dammit!
Before I could crawl through the door, the king picked me up and deposited me on a loveseat beside the fire.
“Why is she still sleeping? What did youdo to her?”
“You know I hate that tone of yours, daughter.” He saiddaughterlike it was both a term of endearment and an insult.
“Sounds like a personal problem. Are you going to answer me,Father?” Did he honestly think I cared what he did or didn’t like while my mother lay in the other room, pale and still?
I stood, and ice covered my shoes, holding me in place.
“Let me go,” I seethed, staring at the male who somehow made my birth possible. His white-blond, wavy hair sat a little wild on his head, like he’d just woke up. But by the suit gracing his form, that wasn’t the case. He might be like Oliver, a stress scrubber. The bags under his double-ringed eyes sure spoke of some kind of stress.
“Your mother is unwell. She needs rest.”
Did he think that’d placate me?
I jerked my legs, hoping to rip free, then almost smacked myself for thinking I was some helpless little girl again. I dove into my core to find where my Glory resided, but every time I reached for it and asked it to break the ice, my Infernus answered and created more. At least my purple flames protected my skin from the cold, but it wasn’t what I wanted.
I wrenched against his hold, frustrated.
Oliver came up beside me, flipping a dagger and staring at the king with flaming emeralds. “Let her go.”
The king raised a blond brow. “Are you threatening me, Nephilim?”
He shrugged. “Just a friendly suggestion.”
“I’d put that knife away and sit before you find yourself encased in ice.” The king smiled. “Just a friendly suggestion.”
Oliver sheathed his knife and sat beside me, but the fire didn’t leave his eyes.
“What did you do to my mother?”
The king turned his attention back to me. “I did nothing to her. She arrived unconscious. What did you and that Archangel do to her?”
“Michael gave her one bag of Nerium poisoning, but that shouldn’t keep her unconscious,” I said, narrowing my eyes.
“This isn’t from Nerium poisoning. General Ronen could’ve helped with that. This is something else.”
