Penn pulled out the chair with its worn leather seat, its feet sliding upon the dark carpet, and then retreated, waiting for me to be seated. Her eyes, their blue hue like sapphires. Yet, it was the quality in their depths staring back at me that made me pause. They looked too old in a face so young and seemed to hold a wary note in them as if she’d seen far more of life than she should have.
She gestured to the bowl filled with chunks of glistening fruit and a slice of wholegrain toast on a side plate. “You must be starving.”
When was the last time I’d eaten?
Crappy pancakes. Graysen had made them while he plotted to steal me.
Fury exploded, scorching my chest, and violence detonated.
It wasn’t food I went for first—it was the knife.
I lunged, snatching it up and whirling to slash the air in a ruthless arc.
Penn jerked back.
I shoved forward, reaching for her head.
She deftly sidestepped—
Easily thwarted me with a bone-jarring slap on my wrist.
The knife flew free, spinning away.
No, no, no!
She gripped my forearm, twisting it at my back, and I shrieked as she thrust me against the wall. My face struck stone, and mybottom lip split as dizzying stars burst inside my mind. White-hot pain ripped through my shoulder, and I panted, squirming, the stone scraping my skin, but she was too formidable—shoving me forward, effortlessly subduing me, contorting my arm at my back even more.
Shit, shit,shit!
“Don’t bother trying,” she said, pressing close, speaking into my ear. It wasn’t harsh. Nor was she laughing at my pathetic attempt either. Simply a warning. “It’s a butter knife. Not exactly the world’s deadliest weapon.”
Embarrassment heated my cheeks. Butter knife or not, for that brief moment it had felt glorious to wield it.
“I’ve lived with the Crowthers far too long, and they’ve taught me everything I need to know when it comes to defending myself or attacking.” Her grip on my arm relaxed a little, and the agony that set my nerves aflame eased. “You can’t get out. Even if you managed to disable me, with Zrenyth’s collar binding you, you can’t leave.”
“Let me go,” My lip throbbed, and blood dripped down my chin, splattering on the towel, which rose with my chest as I gulped shallow, rapid breaths. “You know what the Crowthers are doing is wrong.”
She paused for a moment before answering. “I’m instructed to look after you until Graysen returns.”
“And when will that be?”
She let me go, stepping back. I turned around, only to slump against the wall, kneading the bruising pain in my arm where she’d twisted it mercilessly. I gently brushed the blood from my chin, my fingers coming away coated in scarlet.
“A few days.”
“Where has he gone?” I asked, then tentatively licked up new beads of blood as they appeared on my broken lip, wincing at the sting.
She bent down to retrieve the knife, keeping an eye on me as she did so. She seemed apologetic when she answered. “I don’t know.”
My stomach grumbled as the faint smell of food drifted from the table. But my appetite was as dull as the butter knife Penn placed back on the table.
Godsdammit she was right. The thing was practically useless, though I still could have punched it into an artery with sufficient force. Despite how fragile she looked, she was strong, and she’d easily outmaneuvered me. I knew that attempting this again, no matter what kind of weapon I wielded, would be futile. I was completely outskilled. Defeat spiraled through me, but not enough of it to stop me from walking up to the table and picking up the knife once more.
Penn watched me as warily as I watched her as I slid the tip of the blade under the cord and sawed it back and forth. Its dull edge wasn’t working. Nothing, not even a tiny fray.
I hurled it at the wall. It ricocheted off and skipped across the floor before coming to rest beside the time-worn bedside table.
I crossed my arms, tapping a bare foot, thinking—what next?
