The practice mannequinin the arena already had enough of my wrath, but I persevered, pretending its rubber body was instead Beaumont’s.
“Stupid fucking prick,” I muttered under my breath, using my good arm to slash my dagger through the mannequin’s eyeball. “Godsdamn piece of shit asshole.”
I hadn’t felt anger like this in a long time. Being mad at Sebastian was one thing, but this was a whole other magnitude of pissed off. Anger and anxiety jumbled with terror equaled an outright unhinged Maeve.
“Mother. Fucking. Shitty. Excuse. Of. A. Person,” I growled through the bars of my teeth.
I ripped my blade free of the rubber eye socket with such force that I stumbled a few paces back. I fell flat on my ass, and instead of getting up, I chucked the dagger, hitting my makeshift Beaumont straight in the heart.
Out of breath, I laid down on the mat and deposited my hands on top of my stomach. I focused on my breathing, feeling the rise and fall of my palms whilst trying to control the rage inside of me. But my anger was too formidable.Too strong.
My fingertips developed a fine tingle. Shortly after, I got a whiff of something that smelt like burnt toast. A heart beat later, I jolted upright with a holler at the stench of singed cloth.
“What the—?” I fiddled with the hole I’d burned through my shirt and pawed the warmed flesh of my stomach in an attempt to cool the skin.
“In the midst of your anger, it seems you have accidentally called upon the stars.”
Archer’s voice redirected my attention to over my shoulder. He strolled into the arena, Venay close by his side, her mossy-velvet robe drifting along the freshly waxed floor.
“That’s the smallest amount of starlight I’ve summoned yet.” I got off the ground and back to my feet. I would have called it progress, had I actually intended to summon the power in the first place.
“What are you doing here?” my father approached me.
“Practicing.”
Venay batted her silver eyelashes, her attention grazing over my inanimate adversary. “Practicing what?”
Pushing the bottom of my boot against the base, I retrieved my dagger from the mannequin with a sharp yank. “For when I kill Beaumont.”
“Ah,” Archer sighed, “that’s a discussion for another evening, I think.”
“Yeah,” I scoffed, securing my blade in its sheath. “You and everyone else certainly seem to think so.”
Archer approached me, his eyes softening and his expression sinking into mine. “Beaumont is using Sebastian to get to you.He knows you’ll be desperate to save him, and attempting to do so would be walking right into his plan.”
“So what? We're just going to leave him there?” I shot back in disbelief.
“Of course not. We just need to execute this right.”
“I know how to do this right,” I fumed, locking my narrowed slits of eyes onto him. “I go back, I get Seb out, then I blow the whole fucking place up with starlight.”
“And take yourself and innocent lives down with it in the process?” Archer added the painful reminder of my lack of control.
With a grind of my teeth and a tilt of my head, I swerved around him, making for the exit.
“Wait,” Archer called after me. “Venay is ready to heal your arm. That’s why we're here.”
I paused in my tracks.Perfect. In a day or so I’d be completely healed and ready to make the journey back to Draemor. Surely I could talk the others into going by then.
While Archer returned to his office, I followed Venay out of the arena and into the infirmary ward, where she had me lie back on a bed to make quick work of my arm.
She poked and prodded at my flesh, drawing a wince of pain from me.
“It’s started to heal already, but not enough to where I have to rebreak it though. You got lucky,” she determined.
I laughed in utter disbelief. “Well, that's a first. I’ve never been lucky in my entire life.”
“Surely that can’t be true,” she disputed.
