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I shake under the strain and can’t hold on much longer. I’ve neglected my strength training after Rory died. I was solo for too long and wandered aimlessly about the Order, wondering what my purpose was, stealing shit and getting into trouble with Tinger. Why did I waste so much time?
Dahlia taps me repetitively, begging me to stop, but I’m not looking at her. I’m still holding the dark gaze of her mentor. It’s interesting how he tries to play chicken with me.
“No, Willow,”Nero’s disapproving voice hits from the past.“He wasn’t dead.”
My adult victim scrambles away on his knees. He stopped making sounds and went limp. I hold my trembling little girl’s hands before my face. Not my blood. It’s not my blood on my hands.
“I thought you taught her better than this?” Uncle Nero is so angry.
“She’s a child.” Aunty Rory is angry, too.
“Look at me, Willow.” Nero gestures after the crawling man. “Kill him again. This time, don’t stop until you see the life empty from his eyes.”
Lord Ignarius claps slowly, staring at me. An excruciating heartbeat later, he stands with a grandiose swirl and addresses the room.
“Andthatis exactly why we never assume, especially when aNothingis concerned.”
I let go of Dahlia and stand back, my lungs heaving, my hair falling over my face. My bloody palms are steady as I hold them before my face. I must look like a fright, like the very thing sneaking into their nightmares.
But for the first time since I was cursed, I don’t feel so ugly. I feel victorious.
“My name isWillow.” I toss the bloody chain on Dahlia’s mottled, gasping face.
“You can keep the charms.” Ignarius’s dry proclamation offends Dahlia. “To the victor goes the spoils.”
As if my triumph was part of his demonstration. What a joke.
“I don’t want your trinkets,” I scoff.
His goodwill evaporates. Steam curls from his skin as though he’s just stepped out of the shower. “I don’t want your trinkets,my lord,”he reminds. “I am your superior, and you will address me as such. For your uniform violation, report to the registration desk at noon and accept your punishment.”
“No.”
Chapter
Twenty-Six
WILLOW
Ignarius chokes. “Excuse me?”
“You can take it up with my Radiants.” I lift my chin. “The amendment to the Old Code for the Solstice Exhibition states that a Shadow is disciplined only by their respective Radiant.”
Thank you, Peablossom.
“You’ll come to regret this,” he points out dryly.
The tower clock chimes, and he signals class is over. He turns his back on me as exhibitors file out, finally showering his Shadow with attention. “There, there, my precious wildflower. ’Tis naught but a scratch. Nothing your Radiant can’t fix.”
He waves his hand over her face, and the bleeding welts diminish. Not even a scar remains on her flawless skin. It’s not a glamour, either. She breathes normally again.
Alfie’s eyes meet mine from across the room. I start limping toward him, but he crouches to attend Dahlia. My behavior wasn’t exactly ladylike, but his cold shoulder feels like a slap in the face. Ignoring my throat restricting, I face Geraldine and Max.
At least I’ve made anyone think twice about targeting them. But as we leave the room, we’re hit with a mix of embittered and fearful glances. It’s not the kind of fear that says they’ll run. It’sthe kind that says they’ll attack first. The kind that fills a wolf with a desperate need to protect its pack.
Dismay cramps my stomach. I’ve messed up again. People are afraid of what they don’t understand.
Freak.Even the boogeymen didn’t want her.
