Chapter 18 Wronging My Rights #3
Hogan turns away from the class, reaching for the knife in the wall—the knife I threw. Some of the kids look petrified, others look embarrassed for me. The hallucination—this must be part of it. Hogan grabs the knife, and my heart drops once more. It’s the dagger I stole from Fleur.
This is real.
Right?
“I’m—my apologies,” I say, shaking my head, just in case it’s real. But it can’t be. My actions in the hallucination can’t transfer to the real world, can they?
When Hogan looks at me, his body is rigid, on guard. His eyes are wide. Brown.
Real.
I turn away before I have to deal with the consequences of my actions. Quickly, I cross the room, heading for the door—trying to leave with as much dignity as I can manage. The second I step into the hall, I break into a run for the garden.
Outside, with the sun on my face, someone calls, “Althenia!”
I know who it is. I don’t bother turning. Why would Lucian follow me now? Why would he care?
I keep running.
Seconds later, he grabs my wrist, pulling me harshly. His touch elicits the same response it always has—my power rushing to meet his hand. Maybe it’s supposed to make it easier for him to kill me.
I twist, trying to yank away from him and nearly running into his chest.
“What?” I ask, exasperated.
He stares at me. Not with any look of wonder or desire, but there’s something familiar in his gaze. It’s as if the darkness that clouded him before has lifted, like the sky is finally shedding its rain. Then it’s gone, whatever I thought I saw.
Lucian drops my wrist as he says, “You hallucinate like Wendy.”
I shrug.
Barely a breath goes by before he asks, “Why?”
I consider a lie—but Wendy deserves the truth. Maybe it will give me some credit, make me look less like an Arcane. I almost killed Hogan, for gods’ sake. I should get a pass for saving Wendy.
“Because I brought her back to life.”
Lucian’s voice falls to a whisper. “How did you do it?”
I step back, shaking my head. “You don’t get to murder me then ask questions.”
“Don’t I?”
“Just because you’re a prince—”
“I mean,” the hint of desperation in his eyes gleams in a new way, “is this not what we did before? When we were partners?”
My breath catches, and I struggle to keep from focusing on how close he is. I could reach out and touch him if I wanted. Which I don’t.
“I would use that word loosely,” I reply. We were hardly partners. I don’t know what we were.
“Oh,” he says, “because you were using me to get to your mother and never had any real interest in being my partner?”
I stiffen. The only way he could know that is if he read my journal. He might know everything I wrote. Fortunately, I didn’t know much when I wrote it.
“That’s only one side of the story,” I remark, stepping closer to him. “The rest?” I lift a hand, placing a finger on his forehead. “Is somewhere in there. But you were using me for a lot worse.”
All that darkness floods back into his eyes, his expression falling. His curiosity vanishes, replaced with contempt as he spits, “You’re an Arcane.”
“And you’d do best to remember that,” I say.
“You’d do best to remember I’m a prince.” Lucian steps forward, looking down at me menacingly. “What was it you said? ‘I hate him because I have to. Because I don’t know what it would mean to admit that I kind of like the person who could so easily take my life.’”
My body goes rigid—but not my heart. It beats like I’m moments away from death. I nearly attack him.
“Bastard,” I say, and I mean it with my whole heart. “You’re a bastard.”
“A bastard who could so easily take your life, that you kind of like.” Lucian smiles again. “Though, I regret to say I was lying if I ever appeared like I returned the sentiment.”
My fist clenches as I think of how easily I could fill my palm with his heart.
Then I close my eyes, take a breath, calm myself.
Gods, I could kill him right now, and a part of me wants to.
That one would certainly be for survival.
But I know what he wants; it isn’t hard to assume.
He asked how I brought Wendy back from the dead. There’s one person he lost.
“You want Azaire back?” I ask.
Lucian’s face blanches. Good. He deserved that pedestal to be burned from beneath him. He’s no better than me, and I’m tired of people thinking they are.
“You killed him, right?” I lower my voice and take a slow step forward. “You don’t know me, but I know you. So I’d be careful, Prince.”
I start walking back to school when Lucian shouts, “I’ll help you bring our memories back! Or anything else you want.” His voice trembles with true desperation.
I turn, considering Lucian for a moment, seeing only the sad man standing before me, not the person from my past.
“Why would I want you to remember a thing?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
He shrugs. I imagine if I weren’t in a position of power, he’d taunt me about my journal.
“Bring him back,” he whispers instead.
I consider it. I’d be better off far away from Lucian. Distance is my best bet. But I know that’s not an option. When he wants something, he’s relentless, just like me. Any partnership with him will be laced with lies. He plans to use me, which means I have to plan to use him, too.
I have to keep my wits about me.
“I need the Soul Ruby,” I say. “If you can get me that, then I’ll help you with Azaire.”