The guardians alighted under a ridge of snowy mountains. They could go no further since Ignis and Glacies were injured. Their wounds hadn’t sealed. The serum Einarr carried didn’t really help genetically-enhanced beasts that much. Like me, they had to recover through the natural healing process. So Ares decided we would stay in the mountains for a few nights until the guardians regained their strength.

The Dragonians set up the tents. I didn’t like any of them, but they were efficient when it came to things like that.

To my delight, a camp fire was lit in no time. Jericko, the Dragonian with the bluest skin, was boiling water. I would remind them to go hunting if they hadn’t moved in the next hour.

I didn’t like to go hungry before bedtime.

While I took in the surroundings with my hands on my hips, surveying everything, Ares strode toward me. My pulse spiked. Electric currents charged the air. It happened whenever he entered my proximity for the first time, and my body always reacted with giddy lust. 

“Freyja,” he ordered, “I need to treat your wound. Sit on the rock over there.”

“It’s only a scrape,” I said, not intending to move.

“Even if it’s a scratch, the surrounding area might have been infected. Any wound—even tiny—from an angelblade isn’t a light matter. We have to cut out the bad flesh. There’s no other way around. Einarr will give you a pain killer. It’ll be a minor surgery, and I’ll hold your hand the whole time. It’ll be fast.”

“I don’t need surgery,” I said. 

“Freyja!” Ares raised his voice. “This isn’t time for stubbornness. The infection could kill you! Must I hold you down?”

The Dragonians stopped their tasks and looked in our direction. The guardians snapped their heads and peered at me. Ignis and Glacies hunched close to the mountains, and Ventus guarded their brethren. Mettalum had gone on patrol with Lucas.

Einarr gathered the medic kits.

I sighed. Ares wouldn’t let it go unless he saw it. I tore the bandage from my supposed wound.

“Freyja, let Einarr handle it,” Ares said.

The small cut from the angelblade had closed up. There wasn’t even a scar on my skin, except for a trace of dried blood below my shoulder blade.

“See, I’m as good as new,” I said.

Ares leaned closer to check my skin.

Einarr was at our side the next second, his eyes widening. “No mortal can heal from a wound inflicted by an angelblade,” he said, handing Ares a medical wipe, and the prince cleaned the dried blood from my shoulder.

“Don’t look at me like I’m not an earthling mortal,” I said, going on the offense. “Do you need to see my birth certificate?” As if I had one.

“This is impossible,” Ares said.

“Nothing is impossible, Prince,” I said. “Before your time, no one believed a hybrid like you was a possible.”

“How did you heal?” Ares asked.

“Shouldn’t you be happy I can regenerate quickly, like you?” I said. “Less trouble for you on the road.”

I wouldn’t volunteer the information that only an angelblade could bleed me.

“Of course, I’m happy you’re recovered,” Ares said, looking at the dirty wipe and tossing it away. “We’ll get your blood sample when we get to Atlantis.”

Over my dead body.

Ares must have seen something savage flash through my eyes, because he tensed immediate.

“What is it, Freyja?” he demanded.

Treat me like a lab animal and you’ll regret your life. I vow it on my mother’s grave.

“Merlin gave me this ability to heal myself,” I lied, then remembered what Ares had said about my tell. So, instead of looking straight at him, I dropped my gaze, hoping I looked demure. “That was his parting gift to me.”

Ares just studied me, as did Einarr.

I controlled the urge to draw a circle with the tip of my foot, which would for sure tell them how nervous I was. I counted to four before I brought my gaze back to Ares’ face.

He didn’t seem convinced at all, but he didn’t discredit me either. Maybe he took pity on me and decided to cut me some slack. I’d been weeping in his arms an hour ago. Perhaps he was out of sorts from my tears? If that was the case, I should cry more often.

“The druid said you were being hunted,” Ares said, his voice filled with purpose, “but I didn’t expect them to be Angels. Why do they hunt you?”

“Fuck if I know. They’re psychotic,” I said, my eyes brightening in a mock realization. “Perhaps it’s the same reason you hunted me? They must want me to lead them to the First Witch.”

“Like hell I’ll let them near my witch,” Ares growled.

My words worked to distract him, yet his truth hammered into my heart—his witch was far more important than I was.

“I don’t think anyone knows about her existence, except for the druid, the Oracle, and us,” Einarr said.

“Angels are resourceful,” I said. “If we know about her, then they have to know. She has great power since she’s the First Witch. Perhaps a high-ranking Archangel wants her as his mate, as King Agro once took the Fey Empress to be his bride.”

Ares narrowed his eyes, his face hardening as he stared at me. He hadn’t met the mysterious witch, but he was already so protective and possessive of her. A sudden resentment and jealousy toward both the prince and the witch expanded in me.

“You said you killed an Archangel before?” Ares drawled. “Is that the Angel with the patch on his left eye?”

The interrogation had started. I’d have to let him get it over with. Sooner or later, he would chase me with all the questions, and best to do it now.

“I didn’t expect him to survive,” I said. “I should have thrown the dagger harder. I should have ensured he was dead.”

“You threw a dagger at me the moment you saw me, without taking a second to ask me a question,” Ares said in disapproval.

“I thought we’d decided to put that behind us,” I said.

He nodded. “I was fast enough to block it. The Angel we fought today is just as fast as I am. I wonder how you managed to land your dagger in his eye.”

The Dragonian prince was sly. He had set up a trap for me before I knew.

“He was busy molesting me,” I said, “so he was a bit distracted.” The lie would throw Ares off the balance. I didn’t mind playing on his emotions as he’d intended to fence me in.

A crimson ring formed in his amber eyes, and rage brew in it. “How old were you then?” he asked.

“Twelve.”

“That motherfucker molested you when you were only a child?” he asked, the crimson ring deepening and spreading in his eyes.

“Angels are monsters,” I said. “Everyone knows that.”

“Did you encounter only one Angel at that time?” Einarr asked. Ares was too angry to go on with the next question. Wasn’t the advanced human a good sidekick?

Two against one, but one could play a better game.

“I didn’t see any others,” I said, expecting Einarr to counter me.

“Angels usually hunt in a group of three,” said the sidekick.

I frowned. “Do they?”

“According to that bad-eyed Angel, they’ve been hunting for you in particular,” Ares said.

“What’s your theory?” I asked, restraining myself from sneering. I still needed to play nice to throw him off my back.

“Why did the Angel call you Princess?” Ares asked, peering into my eye to catch a flicker.

I laughed hoarsely. “You think I’m a princess?”

“No one knows who your parents are,” he said.

“They both perished after the Angel War,” I said. “I was an orphan. I raised myself in the forest, the one you invaded.”

“The Angel wouldn’t call you Princess for no good reason,” Ares insisted.

“Do I look like a princess to you, Your Highness?” I asked. “Would a princess grow up with wolves?” I let humiliation and rage show in my eyes. “That psycho Angel was mocking me.”

“There was no mocking in his tone,” he said.

“Angels like to call every earthling girl Princess for fun,” I said, “especially the ones they tortured and marked to kill.”

“I’ve dealt with Angels for decades, and I’ve never heard of them calling anyone Princess except you,” Ares said. “You said they wanted the First Witch, but he mentioned nothing about her. Who are you really, Freyja, that the whole Angel army will come across the universe for you?”

I wanted to say the Angels had mistaken me for someone else, but that ship had long since sailed. Ares would only think I was hiding something darker.

“So I’m a princess,” I snorted. “Enlighten me then, which king and queen are my parents?”

“You tell me,” he said.

I threw my hands up, black rage surging in me. “Why are you interrogating me? Why don’t you go after the Angels instead of coming after me? Am I such a threat?”

At my outburst, a trace of dark fire crawled up my neck, hissing like a snake.

I darted a panicked, angry look between Ares and Einarr, but none of them seemed to see the fire. Merlin had seen it. I should learn to conjure the fire and turn it into a weapon against the Angels when they came for me again.

At the notion, the dark fire receded. It couldn’t be a weapon.

Shame mixing with the need to protect me flashed through Ares’ eyes. He turned to Einarr. “Go see to the wounded guardians.”

With a nod, Einarr walked off.

“Freyja,” Ares softened his voice. “I need to get to the bottom of this so I can better protect you.”

I hadn’t wanted his trust, so why did I feel hurt and mad that he doubted me? On the other hand, I’d never been honest with him.

My jaw clenched.

“From now on,” Ares said, “you’ll never leave my side. You’ll be my shadow. I move, you move behind me.”

“The Angels have marked me,” I said. “You and your men will be better off leaving me here. No mortal army can stand the Angel horde.”

“We defeated them two decades ago,” Ares said. “We drove them away from Earth.”

“This time, it will be different,” I said. “You have no allies. The Fey Empress and her consort won’t come out of their realm. The Dark Lord’s Angels want only me. I don’t want to put you and your men on the line. You don’t need to stick your neck out for me to keep me alive. You’ll have other means to find your witch.”

“I’ve decided,” he said. “You’ll stay with me.”

“I can lead the Angels to your precious witch,” I said. “Would you rather I endanger her?”

“It won’t come to that,” he said.

“How do you know, Ares?” I asked incredulously. “You’re risking everyone.”

“I know what I’m doing,” he said. “My instinct says I need to keep you safe at all cost.”

“What if I’ll be safer without you around me?” I asked.

“Right. The moment you left me, you got three warrior Angels on your hot ass,” he said.

“It was actually cold,” I said.

Something dark flashed through his eyes. I knew the scene of a naked me perching on top of a screaming Angel had flooded back to him again. I hadn’t come up with a plausible explanation for that, and I had no energy for another round of interrogation.

“I’m tired,” I said, heading toward a tent that I wanted to claim as mine. “Call me when dinner is ready.”