Ugh. Just no.
I stand and jab my wrist out, aiming for his throat, but I end up being thrown onto my back instead. He lands firmly on top of me, his thigh shoved between my legs, effectively ceasing any movement on my part. “Tap out, little Caderyn,” he orders, his face inches from mine.
I raise my face as close as possible to his and growl, “Never.”
One minute he’s on top of me, and the next, he’s four feet away on his back.
Kingston stands above me, shadows swirling around him in violent tendrils. His lips are pulled into a vicious snarl, and his canines are on full display. He looks like he’d like nothing more than to tear his brother apart, slowly and violently. “That’s enough training for today,” he says in a low voice.
He’s talking to me, but his glare is on Makon.
“Thank fuck,” Corrine replies, inspecting her nails from her perch.
Makon props himself up on his elbows, a slow, mocking smirk already in place. “Little touchy today, aren’t we, big bro?” he asks. “Looks like that’ll be four laps, little Caderyn,” he throws in my direction, as he rises to his feet.
I close my eyes and let my head fall back into the snow.
“The victor doesn’t run,” Kingston declares.
“Which is why I, the victor, won’t be running,” Makon replies slowly.
I can hear Kingston’s dark chuckle above me, and it sends shivers over my skin. “She drew blood,” he says.
My eyes pop open, and I lift my head to look. Sure as shit, Makon holds up his hand inspecting it, and there’s a small lineof crimson. The dagger must have grazed him when Kingston threw him off me.
“You gotta be shitting me,” Makon mutters.
Kingston crosses his arms. “That’ll be four laps, little bro,” he orders.
Chapter twenty-three
“So let me get this straight, you’re telling me that big, brooding specimen of a man threw Makon off you?”
I roll my eyes rather dramatically. “It’s really not that big of a deal. I think he was just pissed they didn’t follow his instructions and started weapons training. Somethingheclearly thinks I’m not ready for.” Mallory looks at me like she disagrees, but doesn’t say anything further on the matter. With another history class finished, we stuff our texts into our packs.
I look over at her. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to stay after for a minute to speak with the professor.”
She throws me an easy smile. “Sure thing. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
I throw my pack over my shoulder and make my way down to the dais. Professor Hawkins is shoving loose pieces of parchment into the front of a roughly bound text, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose repeatedly and muttering under her breath.
I open my mouth to speak and then close it. I’m not even sure how to approach this. Gripping the strap of my pack, I step forward. “Sorry to bother you—” I start.
“Oh. Hello, Norissa,” Professor Hawkins interrupts without looking up. She looks as discombobulated as usual.
Her sharp, birdlike eyes dart around her desk.
I clear my throat and try again. “Sorry to bother you. I was hoping I could steal a few moments of your time.”
“Of course, what can I do for you?” she asks, clearly distracted.
A flicker of apprehension washes over me. This could be a colossal mistake, but there are no rewards without risks. I’m just not sure this one is worth the reward. “I know this is going to sound…crazy, but I’ve been playing around with a theory and am practically treading water at this point. I’m conducting some research on Salaryan’s history,” I inform her, trying to get to the point but also not sure I want to.
She pauses, looking through the clutter on top of her desk, then stands completely straight, her entire focus now resting on me.
I adjust my collar, the fabric suddenly confining. “I’m trying to determine whether the realm, at any point in time, had an affiliation with a monarchy. I know this is a far-fetched theory,” I say, but stop when her eyes widen briefly before she quickly masks it.
She forces a smile, too tight to be natural. “That is quite the theory,” she says with a soft laugh.
