“I can tell you’re not particularly fond of her.”
“If you care so much about what I think, then why did you fuck her, of all people?” My worlds lash out viciously.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “It was one night. I know it’s a terrible excuse, but we had been drinking for hours, and she was persistent.” His cheeks flood with color. “But you have to know, I never thought that by bringing her to my room it would expose you. I had no idea Jace was going to pull a stunt like that.”
“It was an unfortunate set of circumstances, but Jace meant well.”
“Did he really?” Zadyn’s features twist with rancor. “He threw you through a door.”
“He did not. I fell.”
“You always defend him. Even when he’s hurting you. I’m telling you this because I care about you.” Zadyn takes my hands and forces me to look at him. “Don’t let your heart blind you to his faults. He’s not perfect.”
“I know that.”
“You look at him like he’s?—”
“What?”
“Like he’s a god.”
I laugh. “No, I don’t.”
He sighs. “There are so many things you are running from. You need to start facing them.”
His eyes are wary as they gloss over me.
“Come here.”
He pulls me into his arms and I want to fight him. I want to tell him he’s wrong and that he’s an idiot but instead I settle into his warmth and breathe him in.
* Cue:Little Chaosby Orla Gartland
24
“The king,” Jace says idly, selecting a heavy longsword off the weapons rack, “will be expecting you to perform like a proper Blackblood warrior. Now that your magic has manifested, the real countdown begins. He’s been patient, waiting for your power to emerge, and now that it has, he will no doubt wish to speed things along.”?*
He presses the mother-of-pearl hilt into my palm and selects another sword for himself.
“We know you have the gift of fire,” he says, turning to face me. “And I’m willing to bet that the last Blackblood has a lot more than that in her arsenal. You need to learn to call forth that power at will. To use it in tandem with your physical skills so that you are an unparalleled opponent.”
Without warning, he attacks. My reflexes are fast. Not just fast from months of speed and strength drills with Jace. This is different. I’msupernaturallyfast.
Our swords clang together loudly as I block hisswing, gritting my teeth beneath the weight of his force. Sparks fly as he runs his blade down the length of mine, then begins to circle me lazily. I hold a defensive position, watching as he crooks a finger at me, urging me to attack.
I twirl the blade in my hand and thrust at his arm. He bats my sword away with barely any effort, and it clatters to the ground.
“Don’t be predictable, witch,” he drawls.
I bend to pick it up and cry out as his boot stomps down on my hand, the bones crunching beneath. I stumble back, gasping at my mangled hand in horror.
“You’ve been disarmed.” His voice is filled with authority and harsh command. “What will you do? You have seconds.” He circles me again like a vulture waiting to feast on my carcass. I cradle my crippled hand, feeling the pain lance through it.
“Does it hurt?” he spits at me relentlessly. I glare at him in answer.
“Fix it. Reach into that bag of Blackblood tricks and heal yourself.”
“I don’t know how to do that yet, you bastard,” I hiss.
