I can no longer tell myself that I am just being paranoid, or try to convince myself that Byron is anything other than he has ever been.
He’s my rival. I slide my gaze to him. He’s looking at Istaria, but seems to sense my eyes on him because he looks up. We stare at each other as a long second as I find myself trapped by his shockingly blue orbs. Blue, just like the lightning he wields. Looking into his eyes reminds me of why I hate him.
He’s effortlessly perfect at everything, even possessing magic.
“We’re all heading to the Gilded Academy,” Marvin hurriedly adds. He’s red like a flower and perspiring despite the fact that the heat has finally broken and it’s starting to grow cool here. “I mean, I’m not actually trying to serve the High Lord Menavillion, but I am looking to become a gilded knight.”
“You? A gilded knight?” She raises her hand as she giggles slightly. “I suppose that’s what the academy is for after all, to sort out unworthy candidates.”
Marvin smiles sheepishly, chuckling a little bit. I feel my eyebrows rise; does he not realize that she was insulting him?
Her eyes slide to me. “And the fae? What is one of her kind doing here in the company of humans?”
“She’s our friend,” Marvin says.
“She’s traveling to the academy as well,” Byron replies evenly.
“Oh, she’s one ofthosefae.” Her eyes flick down my form. I resist the urge to squirm under her scrutiny. I don’t need to ask what she means bythosefae. There are the fae that live in Skyshire, in their castles in the sky with their powerful magic, locked in bitter conflicts and using humans as their pawns and then there are fae that walk the ground of Commonweald, raised amongst humans, whose blood is mingled with their own. To the pureblooded fae, the mixed bloods of Commonweald are nearly as bad as humans even though we now make up the majority of the fae. Still, I can tell what type of fae this girl is as she leans away from me as if she might catch my inferiority. “Low-magic, are we?”
I push to my feet, dusting myself off, although it will likely take much more than the cursory pat to rid myself of the dirt and grime now covering my pants and tunic. “We should be off. We’re going to run out of daylight, and if we linger much longer, we’ll give the cultists more than ample time to catch up.”
Byron nods, pushing to his feet. “You’re right.”
Marvin holds out a hand to Istaria. “My lady, if you will allow us, we will bring you to the academy safely.”
“Of course, you will,” she says frowning at his hand, but she accepts it anyway. “What sort of knights to be would you be if you left me here on my own?”
What sort of knights indeed?
Probably not very good ones, but I sure as blazes would feel better if I tossed her into that vine pit and left her to her pompous attitude to try to get herself out.
But then I remember that she's a pureblooded fae which likely makes her more powerful than any of us, even Byron. Which would make her far too powerful an enemy to make, even if I weren’t trying to win the patronage of her betrothed.
Although if I were to serve Menavillion and he marry her… that would make her my lady.
Which is almost too much an idea to bear even with the promise of a more powerful magic.
Chapter Eight
MarvinandIstariastartwalking, but Byron is just standing there, angled toward me, watching me with those unsettling blue eyes that would fit a fae better than a human. I wonder if he hit his head in our escapade and that’s why he hasn’t picked up that we are moving forward again. Marvin and Istaria are already starting to get a lead on us. Marvin is prattling on, something about turnips and his father’s farm being the foremost producer of the root vegetable on this side of Commonweald.
But Byron is just standing there, letting them leave us behind and looking at me in a way that makes me a little uncomfortable. Although, I’m not entirely sure why except that the expression on his face reminds me a bit of his grandfather.
Old man Coalbiter has a way of looking all the way to your soul, and that reminder that Byron is his grandson serves to make me feel a little guilty for openly despising him. Whatever I feel toward Byron, I do truly respect and look up to the grandfather.
Byron smiles slightly, it’s a slow hesitant smile as he rests his hands on his slim hips. “Hey, uh, Lo. I just wanted to address what happened earlier.”
I arch my brow.
“I’m sorry about those unkind things I said to you while we were in the vine pit. It was a high stress situation.” He holds up his hands as if expecting me to interject something. “Not that it excuses me. I didn’t mean any of that. I don’t think that you actually hate me.”
Now both my eyebrows have shot up. He doesn’t? I must not have made myself very clear then.
He holds out his hand as if expecting me to clasp it. “So… friends?”
“We’ve never been friends, Byron Coalbiter,” I say stiffly as I brush past him, his outstretched hand dropping. It brushes my arm as it does so, but I don’t look back.
I can feel his eyes trailing along my back, but I don’t dare turn around and risk seeing his hurt expression.
