Page 20 of Powerful

Tragedy follows me everywhere I go, and I’m not worthy of becoming her demise. Adena deserves a fairytale fate, a life worthy of her light. And that means I should stay as far away from it as possible.

Ishould.

‘I don’t think we should see each other after all this.’

Her eyes fly up from the path of stitches she’s laying along the pant leg. ‘W-Why?’

I shrug with a nonchalance I’m pretending to portray. ‘Because my unpleasantness may rub off on you.’

She lifts her chin, wearing that bright smile of hers. ‘I think you’re just worried that I’ll make you nicer.’

I frown. ‘That would be unfortunate. I have a reputation to uphold.’

Her eyes are back on the uniform draped in her lap. ‘How did you learn to fight?’

My throat tightens, forcing me to swallow before saying, ‘Self-taught.’

Persistence has her pressing for elaboration. ‘Why? Because you wanted to learn how to use the weapons you were making?’

Because I was afraid.

‘My father was a blacksmith.’ My voice is dull. ‘I learned everything I know from watching him. Most of the fighting, too.’

Before she can interrogate me further, I order, ‘All right, show me that you remember all of my hard work yesterday.’

‘Yourhard work?’ She stands with a groan. ‘I’m the one who punched the air a couple dozen times.’

‘Yes, and it caused me a great amount of pain to watch.’

I place a hand on her back, feeling the sway of her hips with each step. Attempting to ignore that distraction, I guide her towards a padded wall, once concealed by a cluttered shelf of weapons.

I gesture towards the dusty mat I rigged up years ago. ‘No more punching air.’

‘Oh, perfect,’ she says less than enthusiastically. ‘Now I get to punch something that will actually hurt.’

‘I’ve punched this many a time, hun. It won’t hit back, I assure you.’

I take my usual position behind her, and she swings at the pad far softer than I’ve taught her. ‘Come on, Dena. You won’t hurt it.’

And there I go again. Claiming her.

The name slips past my lips for the second time, and once again, I’m regretting it. Regretting the familiarity forming between us.

After clearing her throat, she attempts another jab. I twist her hip in time with the movement, feeling my palm fit around her frame.

Curly hair continually whips me in the face, smelling of its usual honey. But I don’t dare complain at her closeness, for fear of her shying away.

‘I wonder what Pae will be wearing to the ball.’ Adena sighs, slowing her punches. ‘They better put her in something that won’t wash her out with that silver hair of hers. And she absolutely refuses to wear anything frilly or—’

‘Focus, Adena.’

It was an effort to ensure it wasn’t my nickname for her that escaped my lips.

‘I mean, it’s hard enough to get her into anything that isn’t that vest I made her,’ she continues as though I hadn’t even opened my mouth.

I sigh, desperate for a change of subject. ‘Is Pae your only family, or simply your only topic of conversation?’

She throws a look over her shoulder, subtle annoyance sketched into her features. ‘It was just my mama and me before she died.’

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