“You’re not supposed to be in here—you know that, right?”
She puts a hand to her chest and gives a mocking gasp. “I’m not? A witch can’t partake in a little nighttime reading around here?”
His eyes fall to the hand resting on her breastbone, and he averts them. “You need to go; you don’t want anyone else finding you here.”
His voice has lost the little warmth it briefly possessed, all signs of the teasing and humor gone. Astrid backs away a step. She’s lingered too long. She turns toward the door.
“Princess.” She stops. “I toyed with the idea. Of killing you. You’re right: it could solve so many of our problems, and if my father or another of his court had found you here, you’d have been dead before that smart mouth of yours could cast.” She finally looks over her shoulder at him, fingers moving to her belt. “And, frankly, I think you’re incredibly foolish for sneaking out in the middle of the night when you aren’t blood bound—lucky for you, I don’t have a taste for picking off the defenseless”—she bristles at that—“especially not while they’re in a library without their familiar,” he adds pointedly. “But, Princess, don’t misunderstand me. I may not have killed you tonight.” He sounds regretful. It doesn’t soften the blow of his next words. “But I still need you to die.”
He disappears, leaving her cold for the first time since she left Isfjell.
14Skylar
In the morning, she’s ready. She’s been listening for signs of movement since first light, pin in hand, going through every self-defense move that Torin has taught her. So when the bedroom door opens, she is out, under Axel’s arm before he has time to realize what’s happening.
He swears, reaching to grab her, but she’s quick. She moves her knee up to his groin, and he only just gets out of the way in time. She uses that to her advantage, shoving her body weight against him so that he smashes back against the wall. The stupid dress they gave her to wear catches slightly and she hisses under her breath.
There’s an animal growl behind her. She spins to see the Shifter snarling at her and takes a brief moment to assess. Shifting is one of the more envied powers, although even the grade twos can only shift into one thing. Imagine that—you get stuck with a power where you can only turn into an ant or something. But now there are claws, taking the place of her nails, and fur spreading up her arms, her eyes bright yellow. Not an ant, then.
Skylar sprints toward the Shifter, dodging at the last moment, so that the claws scratch harmlessly against the stone wall. She slices the fragment of blade down one of the Shifter’s arms, then goes for her face, cutting below her eye. Skylar ducks as the Shifter swipes at her. Her face is elongating now, in a way that looks painful, bone breaking and mending itself. Skylar bends, stabs her pin into the Shifter’s calf with all the force she can manage—just as a hand grabs her elbow, yanking her up so hard she can’t help the scream.
Too slow. She was too fucking slow—Torin would be beating the shit out of her right now.
Axel slams her back against the wall, the force of it reverberating through her skull. He traps her wrist, then pries her fingers open so that her pin, covered in the Shifter’s blood, falls to the floor.
He very much looks like he might hit her in the face, and she lifts her chin, daring him. Then he lets out a breath that sounds painful, bends to pick up her pin. The Shifter has transformed all the way now into some kind of massive cat—like a cross between a lion and a tiger. Definitely at least a grade three. Her teeth are bared at Skylar, the wound on her front leg bleeding. It looks like she can’t put any weight on it—and that makes Skylar feel ever so slightly better. At least she’s not completely useless, even if she did underestimate Axel. Most Blooded can’t fight—they rely on their powers alone. Well. She knows for next time.
The cat growls at Skylar, who curls her lip right back. What—is she expecting an apology?
“What is this?” Axel asks, twirling the pin between his fingers.
“A hairpin,” Skylar says. He gives her a disbelieving look. She forces a shrug. “It was my mother’s.” She wonders if he’ll comment on the symbols, etched into the silver—most people do, asking what they mean. As far as she knows, they don’t mean anything, are simply a pattern. Her mum always used to tell her the pin would bring her home—only, since that night, she’s never had a home, has she?
She twists the ring on her finger. Except Cam. Cam was her home. Heisher home. She just needs to find him.
Axel slips the pin into the pocket of his tunic. “You can have it back when you prove you’re not such a liability.”
“It was my mother’s,” she repeats stupidly.
“You’ve said. And I don’t care.”
She feels her jaw clench. The pin is the only piece of her mother she has left, the only thing that makes her feel connected to her. But if she tells him that, he’ll only have more reason to keep it from her.
“Well,” he says, “now that’s out of the way, shall we?” He gestures down the corridor, and she folds her arms.
“Yeah, I’m not coming.”
He laughs. “It’s cute you think you have a choice.”
“Why should Ibindmyself to the witch?” Because she doesn’t knowmuch, but she can guess. Blood Binding—clue’s in the name—and, Covenant or not, she’s not going through with it.
Axel actuallysighsat her. “Because otherwise she might kill you before the six weeks are up. It’s in your favor, trust me.”
“Sure. I mean, you seem like a trustworthy guy.”
“You don’t seem to understand,” he says impatiently. “That, or you’re being deliberately obstinate. You duel or you die.”
“So you’ve said. I take it the king will order one of you to kill me, if I don’t duel? Will that be you or…?”
