Page 89 of Waves
Until, finally, it ended.
The boy wore himself out.
Breathing hard, sweat trickling from his neck and arms, he stopped, staring at me as I lowered my arms. “What the hell is this?” His eyes flickered up and down my body, suspicion making him keep his guard up, bracing for my attack.
I paused, unsure for a moment what to say—until inspiration struck. “Did you know I wrote a book?”
His brow furrowed and he shook his head as if he couldn’t follow the train of my thought. Perhaps he was more feeble-minded than I’d suspected.
“A clouded mind can’t see the sun,” I coached, trying to jog his memory, though by his blank expression, I began to wonder if he was really literate at all.
“You were a soldier. It’s one of the most famous treatises on war to ever exist.”
Still, he stared blankly.
“Did your commander at least know how to read if you don’t? Didn’t he quote it to you dumb sword grippers?”
That earned me a few more minutes of ducking and punching and a giant wallop to the ribs.
“You arrogant piece of shite! Royal asshole! What do you know about anything?” he roared as his fist soared toward my jaw.
I ducked the punch and then lashed out, one hand wrapping around his closed fist. My other grabbed his free wrist, and I held the tantruming siren until he stilled.
With deathly warning in my tone, I whispered, “I happen to know a lot of things. I know what it feels like to be sold by your father at the age of eight. I know the burn of shackles on your ankles in the hot summer sun. I also know that rage, when it’s not directed properly, can do a lot of useless damage. When it is directed properly…it can conquer an entire kingdom.”
He stared at me, every breath heaving in and out of his lungs as loud as a blacksmith’s bellows.
Once he averted his gaze in an unconscious act of submission, I let him go. His turtle quickly flew to his side and nuzzled him, as if checking for damage.
It was difficult to refrain from rolling my eyes as I made my point. “If you’re distracted by your own grief, how are you going to help Avia? Protect her? What good are you?”
He didn’t respond.
I stared at him through eyes that were on the cusp of swelling shut from his blows. “Your mother was a traitor.”
He seethed, but I shrugged. “That’s the truth. Get over it. What you need to decide now is, are you going to be good for Avia or not?Figure it out.”
His jaw dropped, though I wasn’t certain it was because he understood.
It didn’t matter. I was still counting this.
Two good deeds down.
Nine-hundred ninety-eight to go.
Chapter 39
Raj
The following month made me rethink my impromptu decision to give my ring to the queen. Not for any major wishes but because of the constant annoyance. Of course, every time I thought about wrenching her finger off her hand, I made myself sick because I couldn’t even stand the idea of hurting her.
It was something I never would have tolerated before. Never would have even dreamed I wanted. But now that I had this connection with her, I wasn’t giving it up. Not even when she was a hair-pulling annoyance.
Avia summoned me on a whim, each time with more wishes intended to tie my hands so I couldn’t attack her or pepper me with queries to ask how I'd managed to undermine her tournament.
"Who did you work with?" had frustrated her since I'd shrugged.
"A few fools that I didn't bother to learn the names of," was apparently not her desired response.
