Page 62 of Muse

“Isadore.” He smiled down at me, his bright blue eyes eclipsing everything else around us. “I wanted to tell you that you seemed amazing tonight.”

I couldn’t move and didn’t speak, but I felt Soren’s hand sliding around my waist to hold me protectively against him.

"Let us by. We don't have time to talk," Soren said firmly.

Baxley looked away from me, and his eyes flickered with confusion and annoyance as he eyed Soren behind him.

“You were great, too,” Baxley told him with a tight smile. “But Isadore was the real star of the show. No disrespect.”

"Move so that we can get by," Soren said, more forcefully now, and his arm around me was the only thing that kept me from trembling.

“I’m not blocking you from going anywhere,” Baxley insisted with exaggerated innocence. He gestured vaguely to either side of him, where people were crowded around so close there was no clear path. “There’s just a lot of people having a good time.”

“Right,” Soren replied, and he started leading me to the side.

“Isadore,” Baxley said, and when he grabbed my upper arm to stop me, I recoiled into Soren.

“Get your hand off her,” Soren growled. He moved deftly, sliding my body behind him, knocking Baxley’s hand free in the process, and he put himself between me and Baxley, so I had to crane my neck to see him.

“What is wrong with you?” Baxley asked, glaring up at Soren. “I only wanted to talk to her.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Soren snapped at him.

Baxley tilted his head, trying to catch me with his blue eyes, but Soren immediately moved, shielding me from him.

"Why aren't you letting her talk?" Baxley asked, his voice growing louder as he spoke. But not like he was yelling in anger; instead, he was clear and calm, like he wanted to be sure that he would be heard. "Just because you are an enchanter and she is a muse doesn't mean you get to control Isadore. She doesn't belong to you."

The noise around us had begun to soften as the crowd switched from revelry to onlookers. Soren's attention was fixed on Baxley, but the muse was playing for an audience now.

“Leave her the hell alone!” Soren yelled at Baxley, and that’s when the band fell silent.

Soren finally looked around, noticing all the faces watching us.

"Let's go," I murmured. I put my hand on Soren's elbow because I didn't want to be here a moment longer, not so close to Baxley or with all the prying eyes. All of the earlier joy andlightness had evaporated entirely. I just wanted to get away and get out of here.

"What was that?" Baxley craned his neck around to see me, and he held his hand up to his ear like he was trying to hear me better. "Was Lady Isadore permitted to speak?

Soren scowled, seething with barely contained rage, and he grudgingly stepped to the side, allowing me a sightline to Baxley. It would be much better if I told him off myself, even though I felt like vomiting at the thought of it.

Then suddenly, Wrenley came bursting out of the crowd, pushing xer way through with the grace and patience of an angry bull, and xe was pulling Briar along with xer.

“What is going on?” Wrenley demanded to know.

“Are you okay, Izzy?” Briar asked.

Both Briar and Wrenley had known that I had dated Baxley and that our relationship ended abruptly with his incorrect accusations of infidelity on my part. But I had never told them about how he put his hands on me and left me discarded in the dirt. I had never told anyone that before Soren.

"I'm fine," I said, but my voice was too quiet and weak. I cleared my throat and, more loudly, declared, "I am fine. But I am tired, and I want to go home."

“You deserve a rest after that conduction,” Briar said brightly, trying to lighten the tension. She looped her arm through mine and announced jovially, “Let’s get you somewhere nice.”

"I still haven't had a chance to talk to Isadore," Baxley persisted as if anyone cared about his opinion.

Briar was leading me away while Wrenley watched from the sidelines with wary eyes. Soren remained planted where he was, glowering at Baxley.

Abruptly, Baxley's long arm bolted around Soren, and he latched onto my bare arm, his fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to bruise. I knew it was because it wasn't the first time –or even the second or the tenth – that he'd left marks on me after he'd grabbed me.

Before anyone else could do or say anything, Soren lunged at Baxley. His fist collided against Baxley's face, and because he was an enchanter, his violence was imbued with magik. A bright green light flickered through the room each time Soren punched him – once, twice, three times.

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