Page 13 of Obsidian and Frost
Trapped.
Trapped.
Trapped.
I blinked and sucked in a harsh breath, just barely managing to pull myself back from the edge.
Do it. Just do it.
I went to start forward, intending to weave through the crowds with my suitcase and bulky bag along for the ride, and somehow focus on the destination and not the journey, when a voice pulled me up short.
“Wow, she’s really something.”
Okay, voices plural.
“The Wraith with Dark Fae blood running in her veins.”
“Poor thing was hunted for years worse than most.”
Their comments swirled around me and I tried not to take them personally, understanding that people were just curious.
But then another sounded from a student I registered as Dark Fae with vibrant green hair flowing down over her black cloak, a shimmering gold romper on display.
“Her own brother tried to murder her. And it’s her fault the Guardian Compound was attacked. Should’ve stayed off the radar. How stupid can you be, right?”
Gasps at her viciousness slammed up against cruel laughter.
And then the whole space was swirling with sound I could no longer discern as individual voices or words.
They all became a blur.
I felt so many people looking my way.
A surge of power sparked within me and, the next thing I knew, frost was spreading along the floor, traveling up the walls.
It couldn’t stop it.
I couldn’t—
“Mighty courageous is what I would call it,” a deep, rumbling voice cut through it all.
The atmosphere shifted.
Excitement.
A flurry.
The crowd moved.
I caught sight of somebody new who had entered the space at some point during my freakout.
The hooded coat.
That distinctive brown spiky hair with the maroon tips.
That tall and toned imposing form.
Sylas Morgrave.
