I lunged forward as far as the chain would let me, felt my marks flare hot despite the restraints trying to smother them, and spat directly in his face.
The guard froze. The girl froze. Even I froze, a little shocked at what I’d just done.
Then he dropped the girl and moved toward me, and his expression promised pain.
“You’re going to regret that, Earth-trash.”
“Add it to the list,” I said, lifting my chin even as my heart hammered against my ribs.
His hand caught me across the face hard enough to split my lip. I tasted blood and saw stars, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of crying out. The second blow caught me in the stomach, driving the air from my lungs.
“Stop,” the serving girl sobbed from the floor. “Please stop, she didn’t mean—”
“Oh, I think she meant it.” Another blow, this one to my ribs. Something cracked. “I think the anomaly needs to learn some manners.”
He raised his hand again, and I braced for the impact.
“That’s enough.”
Auradelle’s voice cut through the room like a blade made of ice.
The guard went still, hand frozen mid-swing. “My lord, I was just—”
“Just what? Damaging my most valuable asset a week before the convergence?” Auradelle moved into the room with that predatory grace of his, and the guard actually stepped back. “Do explain how beating her unconscious helps my plans.”
“She—she disrespected—”
“She’s human. She doesn’t understand respect yet.” His eyes found mine, cold and assessing. “Though she’s learning.”
He gestured, and the guard’s corruption marks flared painfully enoughthat the man gasped. “Get out. Send someone to clean this mess. And if you touch her again without my express permission, I’ll show you what real pain feels like.”
The guard fled.
Auradelle watched him go, then turned his attention to the serving girl still on the floor. “You. Out.”
She scrambled to her feet and ran, leaving the broken dishes scattered across the stone.
Then it was just the two of us.
“Don’t expect a fucking ‘thank you’ from me,” I glared at him.
“That was foolish,” Auradelle said, moving closer. I tried to back away, but the chain kept me in place. “He could have killed you.”
“Would have saved you the trouble,” I managed through my split lip.
“No. It wouldn’t have.” He produced a cloth from nowhere—because of course he did—and reached toward my face. I flinched, but he just dabbed at my bleeding lip with surprising gentleness. “You’re no use to me dead. Broken, perhaps. Frightened, certainly. But not dead.”
“How reassuring.”
“You defended her.” His eyes searched mine, curious. “The servant. Why?”
“Because she was scared and he was hurting her. I don’t need a better reason than that.”
“Even when defending her got you hurt instead?”
“Especially then.”
Something flickered across his face—surprise? Respect? It was gone too quickly to identify. He stepped back, and the bloody cloth vanished as mysteriously as it had appeared.
