Page 99 of Shadows of Perl

“Hello, Jordan.”

Thirty-Five

Jordan

Quell’s wrist rotates in my grasp as she turns to face me. Her eyes are bloodshot and she seethes with anger. Beaulah shifts in the tub, still fast asleep. Quell tries to tug away, toushana thrashing in her free hand. We’re not doing this here. I jerk her into an iron hold, with my hand over her mouth, and drag her back to the hidden corridors. The shadows in her fist dissolve. The door closes, engulfing us in near darkness. She claws at me to let her go, but I hold on tighter when teeth sink into my fingers.

“You!” I pull out my fire dagger and bring the blade near her throat. “Who else have you hurt?”

“If you want to know my crimes, you’ll have to find their bodies first.”

I stiffen. A bluff. I think? The timid girl eager to make a good impression on her grandmother is gone.

“Don’t seem so surprised. I’m exactly what you expected.” She tenses, and as I hold her back pressed against me, a black diadem emerges from her head. “A monster, right?”

“You mock our rules, but they keep this Order together.” I try very hard to not think about the rules I’ve broken as Dragunheart. The lies I’ve told. The protocol I didn’t follow. The kid on the raid I couldn’t kill. Admitting to myself for the first time makes me sick to my stomach. Shame has wrapped its way around my throat. Not because I regret my decision. But because I don’t.

If I were a good Dragun, I would.

I’m hesitating. I’m a disgrace. That’s what my brothers would say. I tighten my grip on the blade. Her traitorous stare burns into me as if she sees into my soul. I could redeem myself to my vows right now with a sharp flick of my wrist. My pulse picks up. My hands are slick. I’ve hunted and waited for this moment for so long. And here it is. I pull her head aside, exposing more of her neck.

“Do it!” she says. “I dare you!”

But my grip on the handle slacks.

Spilling her blood here accomplishes nothing and sacrifices everything. Beaulah has to be dealt with. It irks me to no end. But to stop the greatest threat, I need Quell’s help.

“I’m going to let you go,” I say. “Do not fight me.”

“I’m not going to fight you. I’m going to kill you.”

I turn my grip to look her right in her eyes. “Threaten me again and I will send your grandmother your ashes as a farewell present.” I shove her away. Her hair is wild, her clothes ripped; cuts and scrapes cover her skin. A bloody nick leaks down her leg. She looks at me a moment, then bolts back toward Beaulah’s room. I catch her around the waist and put myself between her and it.

“What’s she done to you?”

She fumes, pacing in a circle, shadows pooling at her feet. Then she turns to me, stare alight with rage, and opens her arms. “Come on, Jordan. Fight me!” She growls but all I sense in her is pain, and it dents my anger. The seconds stretch and every thought I had moments ago abandons me. Her freckles taunt me like a sparkling night sky. Beautiful to behold but far out of reach. I hate her for making me feel these things. I hate her so much, I don’t want to look at anything else. I just want to stew in this swelling rage until it burns away every nerve of feeling in my body. Until I can do and no longer feel. I clench my fists and she raises her hands, magic thrashing in them again.

“I’ve waited for this,” I tell her. “And yet I can’t—”

“You’ve always been a coward.”

“Because I need your help, Quell.”

“That’s what I liked about Yagrin. He was never scared.”

“Don’t ever say that name to me again.”

“Get out of my way!” She charges at me, shadows growing in her fists. I dodge her, dashing aside, and twist my dagger. It erupts in flames. She pushes her magic together and the void of darkness grows. I bring my blade down hard, stabbing the magic between her hands, to cut through her toushana with fire. The shadows vanish.

Her nostrils flare as she comes at me again, but the toushana in her hands is a faint whiff of what it was. That’s when I notice bruises all over her hands. She groans in frustration and puts more distance between us. But this is my chance. I lunge at her, blade swiping at the remnants of her magic. She backs away. I press on, winding the dagger down, up, and around, its blade slashing the air in every direction. She backs up again, still trying for her magic, until her back hits a wall.

I close in on her, slipping my blade into my sleeve before grabbing her wrists, crushing them together. She’s strong. But I am stronger. And with her magic not cooperating, she’s lost her advantage. I press against her, holding her body against mine, and pin her arms overhead. She’s so close her scent surrounds me. A bouquet of jasmine with singed petals.

Her breath is ragged, but at least she’s not fighting me anymore. I clear my throat, trying to remember what I was going to say and exactly how I was going to say it. But every time I look at her, into those eyes, I’m assaulted by memories.

“I hate you,” she says.

“I hate you, too.”

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