Hot tears spring to my eyes at his sudden outburst. I can think of a hundred comebacks to hurl at him, but I no longer have the energy.
“I was only teasing,” I say, feeling the heat creep into mycheeks. “But it seems I’ve pushed you too far tonight.” Gathering up the curtain in one hand, I suddenly feel so silly and naïve. I avoid his heavy stare to hide the tears welling in my eyes.
“It’s getting late. Tell the others I went to bed.” I start toward the door, but he wraps his hand around my forearm, pulling me to face him. Upon seeing the hurt in my eyes, a softness crosses his face, a look of regret that he quickly masters.
His voice is thick when he speaks, as if it requires some effort. “I’ll escort you.”
“I would truly rather you didn’t.” I gently pull my arm away and head out the door without another word.
* Cue:Chaise Longueby Wet Leg
* Cue:Gasolineby HAIM feat. Taylor Swift
23
The next morning, when Jace knocks on my door for training, I don’t answer. I don’t stir from bed to dress in fighting leathers or braid my hair back. Instead, I pull the covers tighter over my head like a defiant child.
More knocks rattle my door, followed by furious footsteps. Jace yanks the covers down roughly and glowers down at me.
“Rise and shine, little witch.”
“I’m not training today. Please leave.”
“Are you breathing?”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, if you can talk, you can breathe, which means: training. Now.”
“I’m taking a personal day.” I shrug and steal the covers back from him, hauling them over my head.
“When I say you can take a personal day, you’ll get a personal day.”
Before I can protest, he rips the covers back, reaches down, and tosses me over his shoulder. I shriek and pound my fists against his back.
“If you can get me to stand down, you can have your personal day.”
“Put me down now!” I hiss.
“If you can’t make me, then you haven’t earned a day off.”
Fine.?*
I pull my calf back and bring it down hard between his legs. A loud groan bursts from him as he drops me, and I stumble back, colliding with the beautiful antique vanity. It knocks back into the wall, shattering the mirror and sending glass bottles of perfumes and oils crashing to the ground. Sharp pain spikes through me as I land in a pile of tiny glass shards.
Jace stalks toward me. I grab the longest shard I can find and fling it at him the way he taught me to with a dagger. It sticks in his upper arm. He slowly lowers his gaze and pulls it out like it’s no more than a splinter, discarding it on the ground.
“Your aim isn’t total shit. Still missed, though.” He taps his chest and lunges forward. In a maneuver he taught me, I twist out of his grasp, reaching for the sword sheathed at his side. I whirl around and raise it above my head. For a moment, Jace seems impressed. Then he catches my wrists midair and drives his knee up into my stomach so hard that I double over, gasping. The sword clatters to the ground as my knees dig into the jagged crystals. Jace’s boots crunch over the glass as he crouches before me, cold and cruel.
“Giving up so easily, witch?” he taunts.
Traitorous tears blur my vision, and not just from the physical pain. Then his hand shoots out to grip me by the throat.
“You’re vulnerable. Exposed,” he growls, giving me a rough shake. “What are you going to do?”
I claw at his face and hands, tearing his skin with my nails. The scrapes heal asfast as they appear.
“Have I taught you nothing?” he spits. Losing my temper, I reach out and dig my thumbs into his eyes. He staggers back, and I scramble to my feet again, lunging to gather the sword in my bloodied fists. I hold it out in front of me defensively, panting hard. My form is total shit right now, but I can barely stand upright without swaying.
