Page 173 of Wings of Destruction

“And why should you trust him, or the offer?” she asks, her voice slightly deriding. “At this point, you shouldn’t, but consider this—it’s the only option left to you. There is no way for you to accomplish your goals whipped to death. Be grateful for the option but do not accept it blindly.”

I want to put my hands over my ears and block her out.

“I may not die by Evie’s whipping. I may survive,” I say, logic eclipsed by resentment.

There’s too much at stake for there to be another option.

Her laugh is short and cruel.

“Evie will relish ripping the skin from your body until nothing is left to cover your bones.” Astrid strikes me in the jaw. “She’ll kill you without blinking and you’ll be nothing but a blip in her past. Hardly worth the space in her head.”

I aim for Astrid’s ribs and manage to drag my elbow against bone before she rolls and pulls me on top of her.

My punches are reckless. I might as well have been chewing stone with my teeth. Astrid moves me with her, but the hits bounce off. My fist collides with her chest, and she turns us again, pinning me to the ground.

Our dance continues, the two of us unstoppable. We both have our goals. I wonder what hers are. She’s giving nothing away, her expression back to unreadable and her spine straight. She is cool control whereas I am unsteady, hesitant, and exhausted.

My broken nose burns like someone poured salt into the wound. She leans over me with my arms pinned at my side and my chest throbbing. For a moment, I wonder if I’m staring death in the face. My thoughts cloud. There is nothing but darkness waiting for me.

“She’ll come for you, you know, the moment she’s able, whether she has permission from the headmistress or not,” Astrid continues. “If you hadn’t beaten her within an inch of her life this afternoon, she wouldn’t have let you leave the dining hall. It’s surprising she hasn’t made a move before.”

My chest heaves. “Why?”

“Because she sees you as a threat. You jeopardize her hold on Kieran. I wonder why?”

I shout and buck up against her. Astrid lets me, releasing her hold on my arms, and my mind swirls like I’m caught in the whirlpool of a river. We rise at the same time.

“She sees the way he looks at you,” Astrid says when I fail to answer her. “And she hates you for it.”

I blink and indignation pries my lips over my teeth. “I want nothing to do with him.”

Astrid leans so there is no mishearing her when she says, “Repeat that enough and maybe you’ll believe it.”

My breathing is shallow and uneven.

“Are you giving up?” A muscle in her jaw flexes.

My gut curls in on itself. “Not yet.”

The silence strains between us. There is nowhere for me to go on the mat where she won’t follow, and if I stop now, that’s it. Done. I’m not willing to let it end yet.

My eyes flicker over the pile of armor and weapons. Over Astrid and her austere bearing.

There has to be a way to get to her. I’m slow to focus but latch on to the way she stands, her hands at her hips, her cheeks hollow. There’s a thin sheen of sweat along her brow. She’s favoring her left side now. Had I gotten in a hit? Or does she want me to think I did?

No, the answers aren’t simple. Neither are people. They are complex weaves of dreams and fears and greed and control. Anger and hate and joy and love. There’s no use trying to figure them out when they will leave you disappointed in the end. Expectations are never met.

Astrid expects something out of me. What is it?

Why is she doing this? Purposely antagonizing me?

Instead of yelling, instead of moving before I’m ready, I stop and hold the air in my lungs. It might be hopeless, but I’m not done with her yet. I’m just Morgan Whyte, a maid, a woman damned.

Does that have to be everything I am?

I close the distance between us, taking in her sneer, and punch. She intercepts the blow and holds up her forearm to block me. Astrid is silent now, watching me. I’m not lashing out anymore. I’m glaring at her, hoping she’s burned by my fire. Astrid finally lowers her gaze and I spin toward her weapons.

Whether she thinks I’m going to use them on her or not, she moves. She jogs to block me from reaching the knives.