This wasn’t training. Training would’ve required him to teach me how to defend myself. He’d taken an opportunity to pummel me, knowing I wouldn’t be able to hit him back.
“Don’t—” Quinn growled and turned away, ripping a hand through his hair. “Don’tlookat me like that! You have a weapon.Use it.”He pivoted to face me again. The dim sunlight glinted off the edge of his blade as he raised it.
I hadn’t even caught my breath, and he was ready to start another round ofWhack-an-Addie?Fuck my life.
I curled my hands around the hilt of my sword.Use it.Yeah, okay. I wanted toskewerthe bastard. Like a pig on a stick.
I pounced, winging the sword through the air like a baseball bat.
Quinn sidestepped out of the way.
“Ooof!” The force of my overly enthusiastic swing almost sent me to the ground, where I would’ve belly-flopped on my sword. Huh. That would’ve been a shitty way to go.Addie Collins: spun herself dizzy and impaled herself on her own weapon.
I backed away from him, laughing—because my adrenaline was pumping and making me woozy—and my heel caught a rock, hidden beneath the tall grass.
Tiiiimmmbbbeeerrr.
The back of my head hit the ground with a whippingcrack!A blinding burst of pain exploded behind my eyeballs, and black spots blossomed across my vision.
With a low curse, Quinn chucked his sword aside and knelt beside me, his gaze cold as he watched me gasp, groan, and scrub at my eyes. I winced when his fingers pressed against my face, very Vulcan-Mind-Meld style.
I blinked once, twice. The black spots vanished. The pain receded. It felt more like anI’ve been staring at a computer too longheadache rather than awhat the hell did I drink last night?kind of throbbing.
I reached for the back of my head when Quinn pulled away. I had some blood in my hair, but it was already dry and sticky. There was a small lump on my scalp, the size of a mosquito bite. And it kept shrinking, even as I prodded it. “Huh. So you’re a healer hybrid? I’d say thanks for nixing my concussion. Butyou’rethe reasonI whacked my head.”
“You tripped,” Quinn said.
“Yeah. Because you wereattacking me,and I was trying to get you to stop.”
Quinn’s lip curled. He stared at me like I was a fat ole slug he’d smashed beneath his boot. “Get up. And pick up your sword; we’re not done yet.”
* * *
Rapunzel,Rapunzel, let down your hair.
Ha! If only it were that simple to escape my prison—er,bedroom.
I sighed as the humid breeze trickled through my little porthole and pressed my face against the coarse stone of the windowsill. This had become my favorite spot. Most days, the window was the only thing keeping mesomewhatsane. And, when I’d gotten tired of standing on my tiptoes to look outside, I’d shoved the desk over, stacked the chair on top of it, andvoila,I had a window seat.
Or athrone, as I liked to call it. Because it looked like a lopsided royal seat.
My guards gave me funny looks whenever they saw me perched up on my makeshift throne. Did I care? Hell no. I needed the fresh air. Needed to be surrounded by the sounds of city life below.
I couldn’t see it from here, but there was a tavern nearby. Things got rowdy there. And I could always count on the dulcet tones of someone drunk singing to drift into my room at two a.m.
I loved it. Listening to someone butcher a sea shanty reminded me of my own drunken expeditions. It reminded me of home.
Many of the soldiers from the castle migrated to the tavern after sunset—including Mr. Shit Brick himself.
Oh, yes. Quinn seemed to have a wee bit of a drinking problem. He snuck out behind the rest of the soldiers and staggered back well after they’d all returned. No wonder he was such a ray of sunshine in the mornings; he wasalwayshungover.
Not that I blamed him. I wished I had the option to drink myself into oblivion every night. This world was anightmare.And the two weeks I’d spent trapped in this shithole room had been pure hell.
Fourteen full days.
They’d seemed like a freaking eternity.
My monthshape up or pack upmandate? Still a thing. So my original statement was inaccurate: I’d been trapped in this room for two weeks, the only exception being the one hour a day I spent being Quinn’s punching bag.
