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“You do know what the wastelands surrounding Ashdale are known for, right?” I can’t help but spy Brax pacing back and forth in front of me, but I keep my head low.
“Nope.”
“How? How can you not fucking know? Do youwantto die? Is that it?” His words bite, raising my defenses even higher as my hands clench. Despite the annoyance and anger consuming me, I simply shrug, not offering him more. But it seems he isn’t willing to accept that. “Don’t brush me off, Raven.”
He crouches in front of me and I force my gaze lower. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me genuinely vulnerable. I can play timid all day long. I can avoid their gaze, step back from their demands, and save all of my ruthlessness for when it’s needed most.
I’m very aware that I’m outnumbered here, and at the academy as a whole. I can’t talk a big game when I have zero magic to back it up, and knowing that Creed and Zane used their abilities to find me is only another reminder of that.
“What are you hiding from us, Raven?” Brax pushes. “Why is it such a hard fucking task to tell us why you don’t know things like what the wastelands are known for? Why can’t you share your magic abilities? For this to work, we must be on the same side.” His words surprise me, but they don’t make me relent. His hands suddenly land on my upper arms, shaking me a little. “Look at me, Raven! All you do is avoid my gaze, and it’s driving me insane!”
My mouth pops open in shock as my gaze immediately finds his. His eyes hold me captive—one brown, one green, both brewing a storm ready to rage before me. I frown when his hands clench tighter around my arms, and I look down to find his fingers a cold shade of gray. What the hell?
“You’re hurting me,” I mumble, not in any distress at all as I stare at the startling difference and he quickly releases me. Leaning back, he quickly removes his hands from view and when they return a moment later, they’re tanned and calloused again.
Eldon did mention earlier that Brax was under the shifter category, but what is gray like that?
“Raven.” I blink at Eldon over Brax’s shoulder. “The wastelands. If you had been there in another hour or two, you would be dead. Why don't you know that?”
Leaning back in my seat, I make eye contact with all four of them and decide to relent on one fact at least. “I left Amber Glen when I was four. Until the day I arrived at the academy, I hadn’t spent a moment outside of Shadowmoor.”
“Not even one?” Zane blurts, brows touching his hairline as I nod.
“You aren’t taught anything beyond the borders of Shadowmoor because you’re never going to leave. You heard them in class the other day. They suppress the region and the people within it. Until now, there was no reason for me to know anything at all.”
“Fuck,” Eldon grunts, and I’m sure there’s a glimpse of sympathy in his eyes, but I look away before I can confirm it.
“What else aren’t you telling us, Raven?”
I gulp despite myself, feeling Brax’s intense gaze as he waits for an answer.
“There’s nothing more you need to know.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Raven.”
“Stop thinking you deserve to know everything about me. I’ve survived this long on my own. I can continue,” I bite back, my gut clenching with how he keeps saying my name. It stokes a fire in my heart and coils my veins simultaneously.
“What aren’t you fucking telling us?”
I scoff this time, untucking my legs and planting them on the floor beside him, but he doesn’t move as I loom above him. “Like I trust you.”
“Show me your magic.”
My eyes flash to his, my nose wrinkling as we both glare at each other.
“No.”
“We’re the only ones here looking out for you. If we weren’t set on finding you, you’d be unknowingly getting ready to battle with fucking serpents right now. Show me your magic.”
Serpents? No thanks. But despite my relief at being saved, I still don’t have the guts to admit the truth. “No.”
“You said you were a medic, right? Heal me.” He extends a finger, and I watch in surprise as it turns gray again. His nail sharpens as he brings the pointed edge toward his arm and panic kicks in.
He wouldn’t. He fucking wouldn’t.
The tip pierces his skin and before I can stop myself, I stretch out and grab his wrist. “Don’t.”
“Heal me.”
