No way to get in that they know of.
‘I believe you’re forgetting my sufficient lack of basic navigation and combat skills and capabilities that made me look like I don’t know my right foot from my left.’ I aim a pointed look Sebastian’s way.
‘That’s weird.’ Sebastian scratches his chin. ‘I believe you were supposed to say thank you, but it sounded like you were complaining instead.’
‘Thank you?’ My voice raises a few octaves as I fight to not stomp my foot at him. Oh, the audacity this man has is staggering.
‘You’re welcome. See, was that hard?’
I picture myself walking over and jabbing him in the throat. That’d wipe the self-assured look off his face.
‘You made me look like an idiot!’
‘I made you lookinnocent!’ he bites back harshly.
‘All right, that’s enough,’ Nicks interrupts, walking over to place a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. ‘I didn’t pull you in here so I could listen to you two squabble. There’s a more pressing issue that we need to discuss, and it’s that someone here is trying to frame you for Harley’s murder. If it wasn’t for Sebastian, they probably would have succeeded.’
My eyes narrow. ‘Why would someone try to frameme?’ I ask, crossing over to the sofa and perching on the arm. ‘I don’t even know Harley.’Just the way his hands feel around my throat.
‘It’s not about whether you knew him, he was simply an opportunity. Whoever it was doesn’t want you here, Miss Nocthare. Your mere presence is a threat to them, and you’ll find the list of people in this academy that feel that way is an extensive one.’
My shoulders drop as realisation dawns. Harley wasn’t killed because somebody wanted him dead. He wasn’t the target.I was.
‘Because of Lukas.’ My voice is just above a whisper but I see Sebastian’s hands curl into fists at his sides as if I had spat the words at him.
‘Yes. Because of your brother,’ Nicks agrees. ‘Which is why I’m concerned whoever it was will retaliate once they discover their plan didn’t work, despite the lengths they went to.’
Lengths like strangling him to mirror the marks he left on my skin.
‘So, send her home,’ Sebastian suggests, his tone clipped. He turns to Nicks, voice steady but underlying with impatience. ‘Find a way to make it so she cannot be here due to concerns for her personal safety.’
‘I’mnotleaving!’ I demand, leaping off the couch.
‘No, you’re not,’ Nicks interjects. ‘If every student went home each time they felt their personal safety was in danger, we wouldn’t have a Warrior Unit. It would cease to exist. What we need to do is keep you protected for the foreseeable future, or at least until I can figure out who did this.’
‘And how do you propose we do that?’ Sebastian asks. ‘I’m not posting someone outside her door at night; that would only raise suspicion and cause people to think she gets special treatment.’
That might be the first thing we agree on. Plus, I don’t like the thought of some stranger standing watch outside my door while I lay in bed, asleep and vulnerable.
Nicks shakes his head. ‘I was thinking more along the lines of placing someoneinher room. It’d be inconspicuous, no one needs to know. Like you said, we don’t need to place a bigger target on her back.’
‘I don’t want some stranger sleeping in my room!’ I protest. Is he insane? I don’t see how this idea is any better.
‘It won’t be a stranger. It will be someone that I trust.’ Nicks pauses for a few breaths before gesturing to Sebastian and giving us both a pointed look.
It takes about two seconds for me to catch onto what Nicks is proposing, and less than that to react.
‘No.’ I point at Nicks. ‘No!’ I repeat, more firmly. The last person I need in my personal space, the one place where I get to enjoy the silence and step away from the glaring eyes and whispered vitriol, ishim. ‘Maybe this has nothing to do with me and you’re wrong? Harley could have angered the wrong person.’
‘And if you’re mistaken and there is someone who’s trying to target you? Do you really want to take that risk?’ Nicks asks, his voice dipping low. Before I get a chance to answer he bombards me with another question. ‘Do you know how many third-year students are in Malachite right now, Miss Nocthare?’
I shake my head.
‘Twenty,’ he informs me, then turns to Sebastian. ‘Zain, how many students started with you in Malachite in your first year?’
‘Thirty-one, sir.’
Nicks’s eyes return to mine. There’s a twitch above his upper lip as if just hearing the loss stokes a fire in his gut. ‘That’s eleven students dead in under three years. Not counting the three deaths the second-year students have already added to the growing death toll my unit has suffered. So, excuse me, Miss Nocthare, if I don’t want to add to that number by taking this lightly.’ His voice is like a slap against my skin. It makes me want to shrink back, to lower my chin in submission, but I grit my teeth and nod instead.
