Page 34 of By the Orchid and the Owl
For the next several seconds, I lay pressed against the ground, wincing as Fergus kicked Rodhi again and again. How had it come to this? Why did they—
Fergus’s scream cut my thoughts short.
Followed by the screams of Jenia, Dazmine, and the Summoner, too.
As an entire colony of fire ants burst from every crack near the stairwell and surged up each of their legs.
I scrambled to my feet. Emelle helped up Rodhi, who groaned. For a moment, the three of us were frozen in space, watching the chaos unfold before us.
They twisted and hopped and scratched at themselves, shrieking and, for all intents and purposes, looking like four sped-up versions of Gileon’s earlier dance. I felt no pity, though, as hives sprouted along every inch of their skin.
Until the Object Summoner seemed to get ahold of himself, and sent the ants flying away—from himself and from the others.
I barely had time to blink. Barely had time to even take a breath before Fergus barreled at me with his hands spread wide.
“You bitch! I know it was you!”
He pounded me into the wall behind me, anchoring my neck to the stone.
My heels jerked up, leaving me on scrambling tiptoes. Blood rushed up my head, and my throat wanted to gag but couldn’t.
“Don’t you dare,” a drawling voice said suddenly.
Fergus released me immediately, his hands flying to his own throat.
He gasped, then fell to the ground, flopping about like a fish on sun-baked land.
“Go,” the newcomer told Jenia, Dazmine, and the Summoner.
They sprinted off, scratching at their arms and legs, without a backward glance.
I lifted myself from the wall, panting and taking Coen Steeler in.
Real. He was real, not some twisted figment of my imagination. And he was glaring down at the jerking boy at his feet, such fury radiating from him that I almost couldn’t speak.
Almost. Chancing a glance at Emelle and Rodhi, who were watching with shock-wide eyes, I asked, “What are you doing to him?”
“Making him think he’s drowning,” Coen said without looking at me.
I stared, horrified, at Fergus’s writhing figure. “Stop it. Now.”
“He hurt you.” Such a hard, unyielding tone… but Coen wrenched his glare away from Fergus to meet my gaze, and Fergus fell still between our feet, raking in gasp after gasp. “Are you okay?”
I touched my neck, right where a bruise, no doubt, was already purpling.
“I’m fine.”
“Hmm.” Coen’s hand twitched as if he wanted to touch my neck, too. But he clenched it into a fist instead and returned his glare to Fergus. “Don’t touch her or her friends ever again, okay? I’m not allowed to kill you, but Iamallowed to make you wish you were dead.”
Fergus nodded, hatred boiling in his eyes, and hoisted himself up.
We all watched him limp away until he was gone.
“So.” Coen leaned against the stone wall I’d been pushed against, folding his arms and ignoring Rodhi and Emelle completely. “I missed you at my party last night. I would have thought you’d want to take a tour of my room. I have my own private one, you know, as the Manipulator prince.”
Rodhi’s eyebrows shot through his hairline before a grin formed on his face. Emelle pressed her lips together.
I, however, stared at Coen, straining to make sense of his words.
