Page 134 of A Taste of Torment
He narrows his eyes, examining my face. He pulls his hips back, but his fingers tighten over my wrist.
I glare at him. “I’m not a child.”
He shrugs. “I’m not taking chances.”
I sigh. I hold up my free hand, palm up, a show of surrender. “I just want my bag,” I say slowly. Fingers still around my wrist he steps back and stretches with long limbs to grab the bag discarded on the ground by the gate. He grabs it with ease and then hands it to me.
I place it on the ground and squat next to it so I can rummage around one-handed. He holds on tightly, still not trusting me enough to let go. I guess I can’t really blame him.
I slip my fingers into the small pouch near the top of my bag and find the vial I need. It’s small, only a few milliliters of liquid. I slip the tiny vial into my palm.
Then, I twist, and with all my might, I slam it against Jarron’s cheek.
He reels back as the glass smashes and the liquid splashes. His hand is around my throat, pushing me back into the wall. I gasp and claw at his shirt in those terrifying seconds before Jarron calms, chest heaving.
“What did you just do?” he whispers, voice strained and full of terror.
Prince Jarron Blackthorn, Crown Prince of the Oriziah, is afraid. I think I’d like the expression on his face in different circumstances. But right now, it’s from my own betrayal.
“Taking your mother’s advice,” I say quietly. Then, I kick, sweeping Jarron’s feet out from beneath him. If he expected another attack, maybe he’d have been more prepared. Or maybe it’s the lack of magic in his limbs that’s left him weaker and slower than he expected. He twists and reaches for me as he goes to the ground, landing on his hip hard, but I rip out from his grip and leap straight through the gates into Minor Hall.
49
I Won’t Let You Go Alone
I passthrough the magic and stand in the hall I’ve been in many times, adrenaline pumping hard. It’s quiet and shadowed, no sign of anyone. No big bad villain ready to give his speech. No gloating Bea. No scared Minor Hall students. Nothing.
Just an empty hall of the school.
I turn back, looking through the magic barrier. Jarron is on his knees, panting. His head hangs down, staring at his arms, fingers splayed. The gory red mess on his forearm is already a bright pink, almost healed.
He’s not screaming or begging or even trying to get through the barrier. I knew it was a bluff.
His head jerks up to me, eyes black as pitch. I stumble a step back, even though he can’t get through to me now.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
His nostrils flare, pure rage on his face. And the flickering of something else. He glances at the bag by his feet then back up to me. “You should take this with you,” he says, voice smooth.
I frown. Not exactly the response I’d been expecting.
He grabs the bag with surprising calm then reaches it out to me. Through the magical barrier.
My eyes widen the moment his skin connects with the buzzing magic. Magic that just moments ago tore his skin apart… now does nothing. Jarron smiles, rueful and cruel.
He is angry at me but pleased with himself.
I rip the bag from his grasp.
“I guess we know now if your potion works,” he murmurs. “Forty-five minutes, right?”
“That’s a bad idea,” I warn. He’s planning to come with me.
“It’s a bad idea for you too, but that didn’t stop you. I will not let you go alone.”
Chest heaving and fingers clinging to the bag, I stare at him, mind racing once again. “They’re expecting me. Not you.”
His eyebrows flick up like he could not care less and doesn’t understand why I’d think he would. Then, another thought crosses my mind.
