“That’s not my job.” Milton looks offended at the mere suggestion that he do something other than sit on his ass in his mansion that he did nothing to earn.
“Exactly,” Azrael hisses. “You are doing nothing to make this valor safer from the constant threats.Iam. I am the one patrolling our borders nightly, venturing out of the safety of our territory to create alliances and amass resources, and attacking fae camps to prevent ambushes.”
Milton at least has the sense to look chagrined. He lowers his gaze to the table and tilts his head to bare his neck, wordlessly conceding Azrael’s point. While Azrael isn’t known for excessiveviolence, like his father was known for, he still has enough of a brutal reputation that most people do their best not to provoke him.
My father is the exception to that rule as he crosses his arms and stares down Azrael. “How many did we lose?”
Vernon, my father, has the same closely cropped blond hair he donated to me. I see myself in the harsh plains of his face and the squared jaw. We diverge when it comes to his blue eyes that are so dark they look black most of the time, barely six-foot height, and his never-ending disdain for his only child and that child’s flight.
As one of Azrael’s most efficient commanders, my father is always included in these meetings, despite his visceral hatred for Azrael, Colt, and me, the only three of our flight who have to attend.
While Colt is younger than Hal or me, he’s a natural-born leader. It was clear from the moment we realized Colt and Remy were in our flight that Colt was meant to be Azrael’s second-in-command.
I happily gave my second position to Colt the moment he was old enough to hold it.
Being in charge of everyone and having to schmooze with people I don’t like is not the life for me. I’d much rather tinker with my computers or develop tech to help our people than talk to anyone outside of our flight or our ragtag family.
I suppose one more person has been added to that list after meeting Lark last week. A small smile tries to tilt up my lips at the thought of her, but I shut it down. In the middle of a serious meeting isn’t the time to be grinning over the girl who has stalked my thoughts day and night since we met.
The question of how many we lost is the one to finally break the ice encasing my oldest friend. He closes his eyes for a brief moment before opening them to stare down my father. “Two.”
Vernon curls his upper lip as he flicks his dark eyes between the three of us at the head of the table before settling his glare on me. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy playing with your useless human technology, you would make yourself valuable for once in your miserable life and stand against our attackers.”
I clench my jaw and grip the arms of my chair, hard enough that the wood creaks beneath me. I fight the urge to make a fool of myself and Azrael by fleeing. Even after all these years, my father still knows the exact words to flay me open and salt the wound.
I’m out in the field every time our flight is. But I wasn’t honed into an apex warrior from birth like Azrael, nor do I have the natural-born affinity for leading like Colt. I don’t have the feral enthusiasm on the battlefield like Remy, nor do I possess the almost unnatural stealth Hal does.
Instead, I’m just Rook. Tech specialist, passable fighter, and undyingly loyal friend—none of which makes me worthy in my father’s or mother’s eyes.
“Where do you think we get the data about their movements, where the attacks happened, which known players were involved, and how many of our forces were required to repel each attack?” Azrael asks with a deadly calm. While he seems calm on the outside, it’s hard to miss the simmering anger just below the surface.
Vernon’s brow furrows. “What?”
Azrael slams his hands down on the table before standing and pointing at the map of our land on the far side of the wall. “Who do you think got us all of that information? Who do you think allows us to predict where the next attack will be to make our ever-decreasing manpower go further? Who do you think helped us find and eliminate powerful threats to our valor? The same man you condemn for knowing technology is the onlyfucking reason we have not been obliterated, like nearly every other valor out there. Now. Get. Out.”
Pushing to his feet, Vernon mimics Azrael’s posture, placing his hands on the table and leaning forward with his teeth bared in a savage grin. “You can’t kick me out of an important strategy meeting because you’re unhappy that I pointed out my son’s failures.”
Azrael’s golden eyes turn slitted as the air electrifies around him, and the lights flicker ominously. “Do not forget who you answer to, Vernon of Valor Akar. You serve at my pleasure. You are in my territory because I allow it. You are still breathing because the son you loathe so much has pled your case. Leave before I make you.”
Vernon shrinks at Azrael’s display of power and dominance, unable to maintain his surly eye contact. With one last vicious glance over his shoulder, Vernon slips out the door, making sure to close it quietly behind him to avoid anything that Azrael could perceive as disrespect.
“This meeting is adjourned.” When the commanders and civilians glance at each other in confusion, Azrael lets out a low growl that raises the hair on the back of my neck. “Leave.”
The four remaining generals and three representatives scurry out of the war room like their asses are on fire. When the door snicks closed behind the last of them, I finally allow myself to slump in my seat. Tipping my head back, I close my eyes, weariness flooding me.
“Are you okay, Rook?” Azrael asks, even though we all know the answer. You’d think after all these years, my father wouldn’t be able to get under my skin anymore. But he still does, very successfully.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I try to school my features to something neutral. “I’m fine.”
Colt lets out a bitter laugh. “Don’t bullshit us, Rook. We both know you’re not fine. No one would be fine with the raging asshole of a father you have.”
My mouth flattens into a grim line at him calling me out. Sighing, I tell him, “I just… I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
As much as my father’s bottomless well of disappointment cuts deeper than I’d like a lot of times, he wasn’t exactly a bad father. He still fed, clothed, and sheltered me as a child. He never raised his hand to me, and he made sure I received an education. That’s a hell of a lot more than Azrael’s father did, so I don’t have any grounds for complaint.
“Okay.” Azrael doesn’t try to push me to talk. He knows exactly what it’s like to have shit that fucks you up to the point you can’t talk about it. “What do you need?”
To fly, but that’s much too dangerous with the recent attacks. The fae are growing bolder and bolder as our valor weakens. I don’t know how much longer we can go on like this if nothing changes. So, I settle for the next best thing after flying. “I’m gonna go on a ride.”
