Page 17 of Shadows of Stardust

God, does he think that’s going to work?

Like he can just be all big and muscled and intimidating and I’m immediately going to fold?

I’m sure he does.

I’m sure whatever life he led before he came here gave him ample proof of that. Of his strength. Of his ability to get what he wants through sheer force of will.

I’m sure this really does feel like a damn game to him.

“I’m here for the same reason everyone else is,” I say, and he shakes his head.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

“Look,” I say, taking a half-step toward him. His eyes widen slightly, like he didn’t expect me to have enough courage to defend myself. “Just because you’re bored and obsessive doesn’t give you the right to—”

“On the contrary, my position here absolutely gives me the right to investigate any suspected wrongdoing amongst the contestants.”

“Then you might want to start with the Aventri who was already stumbling drunk when he showed up to the party. Or the two Jurvians who were about to trade fists over who got to escort Ansalla down the beach. You know, put all that training of yoursto good use. Since you’ve obviously worked very, very hard to earn your position here.”

I look him up and down while I offer that last little dig.

If I’m right, he’s not here by choice.

If I’m right, he’s got an ego on him like all warriors do. And though it might make me an idiot, I can’t help but poke that ego with a sharp stick.

Zandrel’s eyes darken, the silver threads within hardening to diamond-sharp fragments. His mouth opens slightly, like he means to say something, but he must decide it’s not worth it.

He composes himself in a moment, drawing himself up to his full height and smirking down at me. His muscles flex in an obvious display of his physical superiority, and my stomach sinks.

Idiot.

I’m an idiot.

Sure, landing an insult felt good for all of about three milliseconds, but if I had a brain in my head, I would have kept my damn mouth shut.

Antagonizing the most lethal guard on this beach might just be the stupidest thing I’ve done since I got here.

How could I have forgotten?

How could I have let my temper get this far over on me with everything on the line?

“I have worked hard,” he says, low and serious. “And I do intend to put my training to good use.”

“Great.” The last of my bravery is quickly melting away, gone as fast as sand swept away by a wave. “Good luck with that.”

Turning again, I start walking toward my bungalow. It’s not far, and this time, Zandrel doesn’t follow.

“I’ve never put much faith in luck,” he calls after me. “Never found that I needed it. But I thank you for the well-wishes. Have a good night, Roslyn.”

The brand of those deep black eyes follows me all the way to my bungalow and up the front stairs, where I fumble with the keypad. All the cracks in the armor I’ve been trying to keep in place grow wider by the second. All my bravado and every scrap of false courage drift further and further from my grasp, the chasm of panic wide and bottomless and reaching up for me with clawing fingers.

Somehow, I manage not to shatter completely as I let myself inside.

As soon as the door closes behind me, I dart for my suitcase.

Breath fast and tight in my chest, I dig through until I find what I’m looking for—a small piece of creased, worn paper tucked away in the very bottom of the case, below the lining.

Two smiling faces stare up at me as I pull it out.

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