Page 50 of Shadebound
Maya made a noise beside me like she was trying not to vomit. “I need to strangle her.”
“Why?” I asked, my eyes still pinned to the scene across the field. Zayden’s group was slowly assembling, but he wasn’t making any effort to focus—he was dragging this out, and we both knew it.
“Because she bounces from person to person like it’s a goddamn strategy game,” Maya muttered, arms crossed. “Tyler the Douche was bad enough. Now she’s eyeing Zayden like he’s her next power-up. I don’t care if she wants to sleep around; that’s her choice. Even if I’m firmly into the notion that fated mates will come back again for us. But it’s not just sex to her. All she wants is power, and that’s hideous. She broke Nerida’s heart barely two weeks ago and couldn’t care less.”
Fated mates hadn’t been a thing since Mortavia fell. Those who’d found their mated before still had them. But there had been nobody new since. I was fairly sure the rise in hookup culture, as opposed to waiting for your fated, was a firm sign that none of us thought they would ever come back.
If any of us thought it would come back, the thought of touching anyone but our fated would have been enough to make us sick. Or the idea of them touching anyone else but us, would fill us with such a violent rage that we could barely ignore. But most people my age didn’t feel that wrongness. They didn’t feel like they were losing a part of themselves, or making themselves ruined for their fated by allowing anyone to touch them as they pleased.
I often wondered if any of us had any hope left. I knew I didn’t.
“She’s always mean to me, too,” Eris said quietly, not looking up. “I don’t like her.”
“J, kill her for us. Pretty please.” Maya fluttered her lashes at me, entirely unbothered at how loud her voice was. “I need to see a good petty revenge murder. It will bring me joy.”
“I wouldn’t say no to her being knocked down a peg,” Eris whispered, like she wasn’t sure she could say it.
I sighed, dragging my attention away from Zayden—and his new decorative limb—to glance at them both. “You forget I have no magic right now.”
And also, it was not my business if Saphira liked Zayden. She was allowed to have feelings, and it was a compliment to him if anything, that someone found him attractive. It really wasn’t a problem. She could flirt, bat her lashes, drape herself all over him like a cape. So long as she didn’t make him uncomfortable,I wouldn’t feel the need to carve her face off. Plus, I was not insecure. I wasn’t at all picturing what it would be like to set her on fire, and toast marshmallows over her burning corpse for touching what belonged to me. I was fine with it.
There was a beat of silence.
Then Maya choked on her laugh as my necklace burned bright green. A colour I pretended didn’t mean jealousy.
Eris giggled, hand flying to her mouth like I’d just said a swear in church.
I blinked. “Did I say that out loud?”
They both nodded, then Maya snickered, “The marshmallow thing sounds inventive.”
“Oh,” I said. Then, without missing a beat: “So. This lesson? Let’s do it, shall we?”
As Maya carried on laughing, we approached the weapon piles. Pretending not to be shooting sideways glances, I picked out twin curved blades—shorter than longswords but heavier than daggers, with wicked angles and hilts that sat comfortably in my hands. They weren’t pretty, but they were efficient.
I spun one, testing it. Smooth. Balanced enough for murdering. I liked them. I instantly decided they were going to be my weapon of choice in this death pit with extra steps.
My father may have trained Draven with a sword, but I’d been given everything else that took my fancy. I liked pointy things. Not just for torture or maiming. They made sense to me. It felt natural to walk around with a dagger or two on my body, usually more for décor than use.
Though now that I was without my magic, they would actually serve a purpose, and I made a note to steal one if I could.
Maya chose a thin hooked knife that looked more ornamental than useful, but when she tested its weight, she spun it with surprising confidence. I almost complimented her, but then she winked at me and pretended to shoot me with it, and I realised her ego didn’t need boosting. Clearly, living with Zayden for so long had made her broken. And I was in no mood to pander to her.
“Tell me I look hot with a knife in my hand.” She ordered me.
My brows rose, eyes narrowed. “I would rather hug Hightower and invite her out for hawthorn tea.”
She turned to Eris without missing a beat, hand going to her hip. “Tell me I look hot with a knife in my hand.”
Eris looked her up and down, actually taking the demand seriously. “I think you look hot, Maya. You’re dangerously beautiful.”
The pair stared at each other for a second, a sudden tension in the air as Maya tilted her head, smirking. It lasted long enough for me to wonder if I ought to leave the room before Eris broke eye contact and ducked her head to pick a weapon.
She chose something stranger. Her weapon looked like a dagger carved from bone, etched with runes, the grip wrapped infaded leather. It gave off no glow, but the air around it sparkled with frost when she showed it to me with a shy smile.
“That’s morbid,” Maya commented, eyeing it with a wide stare. “I get why I’ve never seen you around the academy before. I avoid the crypt.” She didn’t take her eyes off the weapon. “That’s what’s behind door one, by the way, J. It takes you to the crypt and these gross dark tunnels. Students aren’t meant to go down there.”
“It’sbeautiful,” I said honestly, trying to take the sting out of Maya’s teasing. “I enjoy bones. My bedroom back home has a chandelier made of the femurs of serial killers.”
