Before my head even clears, I’m shoved back against the wall, Gruffud’s forearm pressed against my windpipe. Ishouldbe able to get out of his grasp easily. But the edges of my vision blur, logic lost amid the panic. I struggle against him, tugging on his arm, trying to get out from his grip.
I need to calm down.
I drop my hands, allowing my powers to manipulate the bracelets on my wrist until I’m holding the smooth handle of a sharpened blade in my hand. But just as I’m about to drive the dagger home, Gruffud’s crushing weight diminishes.
He’s dragged off me, allowing precious air to pour back into my lungs. The dagger practically melts out of shape as I shoveit into my pocket. My vision wanes but I can hear a kerfuffle—grunts of pain and dull strikes against flesh.
Guzzling air, my hand to my throbbing neck, I stare down at the scene unfolding before me. Neris is sitting on Gruffud’s bare stomach, firing punches at him while he defends his pretty face.
My heart clenches, driving my pulse up. She cannot do this. Not without repercussions. “Neris, get off him!” Panic bubbles in my chest as I clench my fists and root my feet to the floor. My legs begin to quake, and Neris leaps off the naked Gruffud. They both look startled, and I realize it’s not my legs shaking but the whole house.
Shite.
Neris cuts me a sharp look that sayscontrol yourself, as if she wasn’t just pummeling Gruffud like a feral cat. I quickly tamp down on the involuntary flow of my terraforging, and the house stops shaking. “Neris, get out of here,” I tell her. I mouth the next word:run.
She looks at me with wild eyes, a bloodied scratch on her cheek. She nods and runs faster than I knew she was even capable of. Hopefully she’ll go to that spot in the forest where I often go to release pent-up magical energy. I could meet her there. We could figure out the next steps together.
Gruffud is still lying on his back, and a groan escapes him as he runs his hand over his face. He’ll definitely have bruises. Plenty of them. Perhaps Father taught Neris to defend herself a littletoowell.
Arionna steps out into the corridor, fully dressed, as Gruffud gets to his feet. “She won’t get away with this,” he says, his long fingers pressed to his face.
My heart begins to pound again, and without further thought, I set offrunning. Down the stairs, out of the house.
My legs don’t stop moving. It’s though they’ve developed their own intellect. As though they’re not even connected to me.Hot tears sting my face only to be immediately dried as the breeze blows against my skin.
I wrench the door open and tear into the house with heat in my veins and sweat streaming down my face. Mother leaps to her feet, a cup clattering onto the saucer on the tea table. “Gwyneth!” she exclaims.
My breaths come in ragged pants as I rush past her and up the stairs. I don’t stop until I make it to my old room, where Neris has kept my belongings even after moving into it. Mother’s footfalls trail me. “What has—” She stops abruptly, her eyes taking in my appearance as I turn to her. My name leaves her lips with a pained, breathless sound.
I turn away and step into the closet to grab a large bag. I throw a couple pairs of trousers and several tunics into the bag and move to my dresser to look for a spare comb and brush.
“What on earth happened? And what in the gods’ names are you doing?”
I ignore her as I throw all the jewelry that I’d given Neris into the bag. We can sell them for coin.
“Gwyneth!”
“I’m leaving!” I shout back. My lip burns, the taste of blood on my tongue. “I will not remain married to an adulterous, abusive man!”
Mother goes silent and leans against the wall of my bedchamber as if she needs support. “What happened?” she enunciates, impatience flowing through her measured tone.
I consider telling her the truth, but a voice calls me from just beyond my door. “Gwyn! You cannot tell Moth—” Arionna stops abruptly and reels back, the whites of her eyes showing.
Mother turns her gaze to me instead. “Cannot tell me what?” she demands.
Arionna bites her lip and I meet her pleading gaze with cold fervor as I respond to Mother. “Askher.”
Mother’s focus flicks to Arionna. “Speak.”
My sister’s dark complexion may hide her flushed cheeks, but her hair is atypically disheveled, her makeup smudged, her shoulders caving in beneath Mother’s scrutiny. With my bag gripped tightly in my hand, I shoulder past Arionna.
As I rush down the stairs, Mother’s voice trails after me. “I cannot allow you to leave!”
I arch my brows. “If you plan to bodily block me, you know I can easily get past you.”
“They’ll come after you,” she says, as I step into the sitting room.
“I’d like to see them try.”
