Page 43 of Wings of Ash & Flame
She wrung her hands. Her classmates had seen her succumb to weakness. With the breathbind reliquary, she’d managed to keep attacks private in her dorm, and even then, they’d started to subside in frequency.
She couldn’t afford to show weakness. Couldn’t afford to be weak. Alaire covered her face with her hands.
Breathlock was a chronic condition—one she couldn’t control and that, more than anything, angered her most: its unpredictability and the paralyzing fear that struck at the onset of an attack.
Alaire swallowed down the rising emotions, smothering them back. Losing herself to them now would only further prove what she knew they all believed—that she didn’t belong here.
She needed to get back to class to show her peers that what happened at the Crux wasn’t enough to take her out.
Hopefully, this wouldn’t take longer than necessary.
Her arms erupted in goosebumps as she heard a familiar voice booming down the hall. “Which room?”
“Second on the left, sweetie.”
Sweetie?Her face scrunched. Who in all of Elithian would ever call Dawson sweetie? He was about as sweet as a hornet’s nest after you poked it with a stick.
She was biting her lip when the curtain was yanked open. Dawson stalked inside, his presence filling the small space. He stood at the foot of her bed, arms crossed, perpetual scowl firmly in place.
Gods help me. I must have imagined he could be anything other than infuriating.
“Why do you look like you just swallowed something sour?” Dawson asked, one brow arched.
“I could ask you the same thing,” she shot back, sitting up straighter despite the discomfort in her ribs. “What are you doing here, Knox?”
“Checking on you,” he replied, as if it were obvious. His dark hair was tied back from his face, exposing the regrettably sharp lines of his jaw.
“Oh, how kind. You’ve done your good deed for the day. You can go now.”
“Not before you realize you can’t go around being this reckless.”
“Reckless?” Her eyes narrowed. The sheer audacity of this male. “I didn’t call the match—Professor Hawthorne did. If you have any problems, take them up with him.”
He snorted, a humorless sound that set her teeth on edge. “I think we have different versions of what the term reckless means. I’ll admit your right hook isn’t completely hopeless.”
She opened her mouth to tell him where he could shove his compliments when he stepped closer, cutting her off.
“I spoke with Professor Leslie,” he said in a low voice.
Her stomach dropped. “And?”
“Seems we’re stuck together.” His forehead creased. “As partners.”
Alaire scooted back on the bed, feeling trapped.
“Professor Leslie made?—”
“No,” she interrupted. “There has to be another way.”
“There isn’t,” Dawson said flatly. “She seems to think this partnership will ‘challenge me to learn patience.’ And apparently, you’ll benefit from my ‘leadership experience.’” He said the phrase like it physically hurt him before adding, “Believe me, I tried to get out of it.”
“Seems like your negotiating skills need work. Some prince you are,” she snapped, arms crossed over her chest, hating how exposed she felt in her thin gown.
Dawson sighed. “After we didn’t return to class, we missed the rest of the assessment model. Not only do we have to work together, but our fates are tied for the academic year. If youscrew up, it’s on me. If you get hurt, it reflects on me. If you fail, I fail.” The muscles in his neck flexed. “And I’m not about to let that happen. Not when I have one year left.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m responsible for preparing you for the upcoming trials.”
Her stomach twisted. So that was it. He stepped in not because he cared, but to save his own ass.Good. It was just the reminder she needed.
