Crack.
But not as hard.
Crack. Crack.
Never as hard.
Crack.
My arms shake.Maybe I’ll pass out.
I don’t.
Crack.
Finally, no more comes.
I rock back onto my heels, breathing slowly, vision swimming and ears ringing as Luther gets in last words I can’t hear and disappears. So does Kingston, I think.
Me, I just slump to the rug.
It hurts. It all hurts.
When I open my eyes, they’re wet. Tears.
Cute.Reflex, I guess—reaction to the pain. Or maybe I truly am the pussy. I reach to rub my eyes clear andfuck, that’s amistake, like goddamn lightning down my back muscles as I move my arm?—
“Steady,” says a voice. “Here.”
Kingston. Hand on my shoulder so I don’t fall. He lifts me up—first to my knees, then to stand, bracing my body with his.
“Kai,” he says. “Kai, I’m?—”
“Save it,” I hiss. I wish I weren’t fucking crying. But at least it’s over. “You did what you had to.”
“No,” King insists. “You don’t—I saw your saber afterwards, Kai. I saw what he did. I should have?—”
His voice cracks. I look at his face, and he’s…
He’s crying, too.
A fresh bolt of rage snaps through me.
I fling out my arm, my flesh screaming in pain so sharp I almost lose my balance, and manage to grab him by the shoulder. Pull him in so he can hear me.
“Listen to me,” I say. “Listen to me.You? You’re better than this. You’re better than thistoo, okay, King? You are. And don’t let them make you think you’re fucking not.”
Then, with my last ounce of strength, I spit blood on Luther’s carpet.
TWENTY-ONE
GWENNA
Kai won’t stop fidgeting.
We’re in the library reading room, me trying to make some progress on Peter Abelard’sSic Et Nonand him…sitting there, watching me without looking at me, yet somehow inconstantmotion.
Bouncing his leg up and down. Drumming his fingers on the tabletop. Chewing his thumbnail with a faint clicking sound against his lip ring. Finally, it's too much.
