“Hello,Heathen,” he says, walking toward me.
Kingston Adair.
Now I know his full name. I was probably better off not knowing it. Distance is safety with this one.
I stare at him defiantly. My mother didn’t raise a woman who cowers. Even when defeat is the clear result, you must never show them weakness. They can take everything from you but not your pride. They can only obtain that if you willingly sacrifice it. Which I will not be doing.
He stares back without emotion. His eyes are more black than brown today. His full lips are set in a straight line devoid of any expression.
His mask of apathy is fully in place.
He’s the kind of beautiful you run from without looking back.
The type that is statuesque and flawless.
The sinister and cold kind.
The kind that will leave you feeling empty as time goes on.
He lets those dark eyes roam over me, sizing me up. I feel stripped raw by a mere look. I’m not sure what it is he’s searching for, but whatever it is, he seems to have found it. Heturns on his heel and walks over to the corner, grabbing a black shirt and pulling it over his head and down his ripped abdomen.
Someone so cold shouldn’t make me feel so warm. I instantly feel guilty. Like I committed some violation against the love I have for another.
It’s just because I’m touch-starved at the moment.
It has nothing to do with the actual man.
His dark hair falls over his brow, thoroughly disheveled from his earlier fight. He walks back toward me, looking up at me from under his thick brow while he adjusts the wrappings on his hands. “Why are you here?” he demands.
I clench my fingers in annoyance. “The same reason I suspect you are. To manifest my powers and help protect Salaryan from those who wish it harm,” I recite back in a clipped tone.
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Let me try again. Why are you here?” he repeats.
I square my shoulders and widen my stance. “Did I stutter?” I reply, my voice soft but cutting.
“Did I?” he retorts in a challenge, meeting my glare head-on.
“I’m here to be a soldier,” I say with clear exasperation. “The same as every other student at this academy.” It takes every ounce of my willpower not to break eye contact.
I get the feeling this is some kind of test, and I’m pretty sure I’m fucking it up.
Royally.
He stops directly in front of me. “That’s the generic answer. I want the true answer,” he says.
“Well, that’s the only one I have to give.”
“Your mother is a Veil,” he says flatly. It’s a statement, not a question.
“Yes, and your point is?” I bite out, frustration breaking through my tone.
He lifts a hand to his jaw, stroking it as if he’s thinking about how to deliver the next blow. “She’s made quite a reputation for herself. Created big shoes to fill. Valor, sacrifice, all of it. Tell me this, are you here to earn your own reputation or compete with hers?”
“Fuck you,” I snarl.
“I thought we’ve established that you’re not my type,” he says coolly.
What an asshole.
