She stuck out a crutch. And Shaw’s tall frame was his undoing as he tripped, sent sprawling against the stones.
He growled through gritted teeth. “What in the saint-forsakenhell.” By slow, menacing measures, he pushed himself from the ground.
Lux passed him by, ignoring him as he had her. When he pulled on her crutch, she whipped it from his grasp. He barely dodged the aim she made for his groin.
“Don’ttouchme.”
He scowled after her. “I didn’t touch you. Just your wooden attachment. Though, you didn’t seem all that bothered by it when I saved you from becoming a howler’s meal.”
Her embarrassment in just how much shewasn’tbothered by it twined inside her until it took a new form. One that was easier for her to accept. Anger. Always more anger. “I don’t need to besavedby you. Not then, not now.”
“What were you doing out there, anyway?”
Oh, now you want to talk?
“Your memory is abysmal. But I’m unsurprised.” When her glance revealed his bewildered expression, she huffed. “You told me you wanted to investigate the prison. I told you I wanted the same for the forest. For the phantom. Now I have done both without you. And survived both. Without you.”
His sudden grip on her arm was unyielding yet gentle. She supposed he didn’t want to send her stumbling after going through all the effort to get her fixed. “You snuck into the prison? How?”
“Snuckis probably the wrong word. I’d use thrown, personally.”
If she didn’t hate him so much, she would have laughed at his shocked face. Until it darkened. “It wasthemwho hurt you? Which Shield?Why?How did you get out?”
No questions about what she’d found. The idea of it gave her pause for all of a heartbeat before she shook herself free. “Quit pretending you care about my well-being, Shaw. You’ve been using me since the day you asked me to bring you to the mayor’s masquerade.”
“You have been using me too. That doesn’t mean I don’t care about what happens to you.”
Her laugh was harsh. “What you’ve kept hidden is unforgivable.”
“You won’t even be bothered to know why?”
“No!” Lux reigned her voice back. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, the streets really weren’t safe for anyone anymore, let alone a broken girl. “Nobody has the right to drain another of their veryessence. Be they criminals or innocent. Howcould you?”
Shaw’s voice heated with passion. “Criminals deserve retribution, and they don’t deserve for you to bring them back simply to do it all again. Need I remind you, the people I’ve killed are not petty thieves. They are the worst Ghadra has to offer. Ones the Shield turn a blind eye to as they imprison those who oppose the mayor in any small way.”
Lux blocked the surfacing image of a tortured man upon a table, a menacing figure in white slicing deep behind his eyes.No. She could never condone what Shaw did, what he still continued to do, and her heart seemed hellbent on breaking all over again at the reminder.
Her street. At last. Her ankle throbbed with searing pain, and all she wanted was her bed.
They walked in silence the rest of the short distance, but Lux paused outside her door.
“How did you find me?”
Shaw opened his mouth only to close it again. She watched the war rage in his eyes by the lightening sky before they shuttered. “Chance, I suppose.” His gaze traveled her length, lingering on her wrapped ankle, and then her eyes. “Goodbye, Necromancer.”
She didn’t say anything as she watched him go, and he didn’t look back. As soon as he was out of sight, she tossed her crutchesin the nearest alley before pulling open her freshly repaired, and thus silent, door to hobble down the steps.
Riselda was asleep, softbreaths puffing from the bed beside the coal-lit fireplace. Lux struggled against waking her, her good foot creaking down the stairs with its awkward added weight.
She crossed the floor, seriously contemplating entering her workroom to try her hand at Riselda’s potions for something to dull the pain, but in the end, she passed it by. She’d likely end up poisoning herself instead.
She winced, holding back a hissed oath as the rug brushed across her bandaged foot. Rumpled again. Her old one never had this problem. Lux glared down at the offending material.
She needed a bath badly, but it would have to wait until morning. As would the tale she needed to spin regarding how she obtained her injury. Her mind was sluggish with pain and exhaustion. The best she could think of right now was that she’d tripped.
At least the pitcher atop the washstand was filled. Lux scrubbed her face, neck, and hands as quickly and quietly as she could.
Stripping out of her clothes was tedious once entering her room, what with her new sense of balance fighting against the old. She’d nearly toppled more than once, but she couldn’t sleep covered in the black grime of the wood. The longest nightgown she owned just brushed the thick covering over her ankle and, victorious, Lux pulled back the pile of blankets.
