“Of course not,” Francesca bites again, running her tongue over her teeth.
“How about we focus on possible healing abilities?” Carbon offers, and my chest tightens.
Didn't someone say that involved my tears?
Anticipation floods my veins, and the desire to shake my head and dart for the exit burns through me, but instead, I swallow it down, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip as I nod in agreement.
My mother would be proud of my placid, people-pleasing abilities.
Since Francesca seems to think I'm dumb, I choose to lean into it, refusing to make this easy for them. Especially if it's going to cause me pain in the process.
“I’m not sure what that entails. I?—”
“She's not a fucking guinea pig,” Archer interjects, and I blink at Professor Carbon as she sighs.
“Archer, she must?—”
“She doesn't have to do shit just because you demand it. You're just trying to push your luck because she's different.” His anger is palpable in the air, whispers whipping around as everybody watches his reaction, and I want to disappear entirely.
Unsure what to do with myself, I remain frozen in place as Francesca moves, anger radiating from head to toe, but it's not toward me that she moves, it's Archer.
He doesn't react as she slices a blade down his cheek, and my lungs threaten to implode. Yet he doesn't even hiss as blood trickles across his skin.
My heart aches, panic flooding my body as I take an instinctive step toward him.
“Heal him,” Francesca demands, and I rush toward him without thought. My heart races wildly in my chest, and I'm certain I'm going to pass out, but as I reach him, he grabs my wrist, holding me back.
“Don't you dare,” he grunts, freezing me in place, riddled with panic as I watch the blood trickle down his face.
“Archer,” I panic, hating how much I care about him right now, but his grip on my wrist only tightens.
His fury has been ignited.
“You're not a puppet, and they don't get to pull your fucking strings.”
“You're bleeding,” I insist, but he shakes his head.
“Ivy, look at me. I've survived worse. A bit of fucking blood is nothing, but giving in to these people, so they can use you as a weapon, will never happen. Not while I stand here. Not while I'm able to protect my fated mate.”
I feel dizzy at his words. “Archer,” I breathe again, desperation clinging to me, but his attention drifts to the professor.
“Call time on whatever the fuck this is before I take matters into my own hands.”
Her back stiffens and her nose tips in the air so she can look down it at us as Francesca shakes her head in disbelief.
“Do it, or I walk, and I'm taking her with me.” His punishing tone leaves no room for argument.
I sway on my feet, panic rattling through my body as Carbon lifts her hands, palms facing our direction, and she nods softly.
“Let's start off with smaller training first. Maybe Ivy would benefit from spending the lesson watching others delve into their magic.” She tilts her head at Archer, waiting for a response, and he nods.
“That will do,” he grunts, and I gape at him.
“But your face,” I insist, trying to reach him with my other hand, but he captures that wrist, too.
“The scar on my face will be healed when I've earned your forgiveness.”
11
