Dawn of Destiny (The Warrior Angels Trilogy - Book 1)

Chapter Three

Ashton was transfixed by the droplets of rain smacking against the window's glass.

His family was downstairs, celebrating his birthday despite his absence. It didn't matter. He spent plenty of time with them earlier. His father had arrived earlier than expected, though. Ashton was happy to see him. However, his overall joy had quickly been crushed by his father's reminder that he would return to the castle with him tomorrow. Ashton would only get to come home on the weekends now, just like he did. If Queen Anne permitted his father to, that is. Or if she didn't travel over the weekends.

It wouldn't be so horrible, Ashton supposed. After all, the castle and barracks were mere blocks from his street. But having to sleep in a different bed in an entirely different building seemed... scary, almost. And that made him feel like he was going to be millions of miles away instead.

Something soft and fluffy rubbed against his legs. He smiled as he glanced down at the kitten. He then leaned down and gently scratched the back of her head, and her purrs grew louder. His mother had been quite shocked when he'd carried Misty (the name sort of popped into his mind during the moment) into the house. Fortunately, she came around to the idea of having a pet.

"Oh, your father will love her, too," she'd told him.

Ashton withdrew his hand and stood upright again. He wasn't aware someone had entered the room until he heard their voice.

"Goodness, I don't recognize this room at all." Ah, well, speaking of his father...

Ashton tensed slightly as he turned to face him. But he tried smiling again. An awkward and forced grin. Misty took off through the open door, leaving him to endure this alone.

Thanks kitty.

His father was a young man who would be thirty-three by the end of the summer. Except only his light-blue eyes could convince a stranger of that. His dark locks were already graying throughout, and hard lines had formed around his mouth. But those lines merely showed whenever he trimmed down his beard, as he currently had. Over the years, his voice had become fiercer, making even his most genuine laughter sound menacing at times.

His father stepped further into the room, and Ashton, as usual, was mesmerized by his height.

Will I ever get taller?

Ashton moved his head back a little, getting a better view of his father's face. His father lifted his hand and ruffled Ashton's already unkempt waves. Ashton snickered and moved his head away.

"Have you begun painting anything in here yet?" his father asked, moving his hands behind him and turning to view the room more properly.

Ashton eyed the sheet-covered canvas in the corner and frowned. "I tried starting on a portrait for Ailith. I've promised her countless times to paint her one, but..." He averted his attention out the window. "I'm not quite proud of it."

"You're not finished with it yet, Ashton. You may feel differently about it once you are done."

"I... I suppose." Ashton furrowed his brows. It wasn't like his father to talk to him about his paintings. In fact, painting was a subject his father strongly avoided. Because there was no use encouraging a hobby that would go nowhere. And because of that, Ashton was also stunned that his father seemed alright with this room. Maybe the man was beginning to change his mind...

But then his father sighed deeply, and Ashton recognized that sound all too well. He braced himself.

"Listen, son," his father started, leaning against the wall beside the window, "you do understand that... this"—he gestured to their surroundings—"is temporary."