A Court of Wings and Fate

5. Friends and Family

The artwork above is not mine.

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    Seren Marzena stared at her children, arms crossed angrily over her chest. Azriel lingered behind her, saying nothing. Estelle and Lysander sat before their parents, faces hot with anger and indignation.

    "That's the third fight you've picked with Ze'ev this week," Seren snapped. Her amber gaze burned with the same frustration as Estelle's. "This can't continue to happen. You're very lucky Jorah and Devlon only suspended your training at the war camp."

    "So we were told," Lysander muttered.

    "It could have been worse," Estelle pointed out. "Ze'ev might've brought his cronies along, but it was just him."

    "And the four of you attacked him." Azriel stepped forward, his voice cold. "What happened?"

    Neither of them answered. Estelle's shadows were silent, drifting in between her and Lysander. Seren sighed and Estelle tensed as flaming talons scraped against her mental shields. There were some times when Estelle appreciated her mother's daemati abilities, but this was not one of those times. She hesitated, then lowered her shields.

    Let me see, Seren said. Estelle relented, allowing the memories to play out for her mother. Seren withdrew her mental presence and Estelle restored her shields.

    "He insulted all of us," she murmured to Azriel.

    Understanding flickered across his face. "There's always going to be someone who dislikes us, and you because of us," he said. "Fighting them won't solve anything."

    "It makes me feel better," Estelle huffed.

    Lysander shook his head at her subtly. "We lost our tempers. It won't happen again."

    "Make sure it doesn't." Azriel left the room without another word. Seren followed him shortly.

    Estelle dropped back against her seat, combing her fingers through her hair. They are not angry, the shadows whispered. Just upset.

    What's the difference? Estelle stood abruptly.

    "Where are you going?" Lysander called.

    "Rita's."

    "Wait for me." He chased after her.

    Estelle didn't bother to change out of her leathers. She and Lysander left the house and shadows wrapped around them, carrying them to the nightclub. It wasn't too busy, but as the evening progressed, Estelle knew business at the club would increase.

    She settled into a booth, situating her wings over the back of it. "They don't have to treat us like little kids."

    "I think that's something we'll never outgrow," her brother chuckled. "We are their kids."

    "Do you ever get tired of standing in their shadows?"

    "What do you mean?" Lysander's hazel eyes flashed with curiosity.

    Estelle rested her hands atop the table, letting her shadows weave through her fingers. "We can't go anywhere without being recognized. Every time we meet someone, all they can talk about is how great or how awful our parents are, and then compare us to them."

    Lysander cocked his head. "If you're thinking along those lines, Nyx has it the worst."

"True."