Page 71 of Shattered Jewel
“Don’t,” I snap. “I’ve already heard it from Kaspian and Wilder. But none of you are me. You’re not in my head. You don’t know what they’ve put there.”
Rather than argue the existence of an ancient Anderton curse because I don’t fucking need to, I stride to the storage trunk at the foot of my bed and throw the lid open. My fingers curl around the hilt of my favorite dagger, the engraved nightshade flower, my family’s symbol, cold against my palm. I sheathe it at my hip, the movement practiced and quick.
Axe follows suit, his movements slower and more labored. He reaches for a .32 derringer and its ankle holster, then a Karambit, a curved hawk blade he can hide at the small of his back.
We continue to pocket any and all weapons that can fit to our body: push daggers for our coat sleeves, garrote wire, lockpick set, laser breach tool.
The more I strap to my body, the further Axe’s expression settles into one of understanding. We’re not coming back to Thornhaven until the matter of the broken Heart is settled. Permanently.
His lips pull into a humorless smile as he answers what doesn’t need to be said. “It won’t be easy.”
My voice is low and fierce. “Nothing worth doing ever is.”
I shoulder my pack. The brand on my chest burns, a constant reminder of my growing hatred.
Axe moves to the door, his hand on the latch.
I nod for him to open it.
Axe wrenches it open, and if it weren’t for our honed reflexes, we would’ve slashed our weapons right into Kaspian.
He arches a brow after giving Axe the once-over. “Going somewhere?”
If he has a reaction to the state of Axe’s face, Kaspian keeps it close to his chest where it will never come to light.
And as if it’s not obvious, I say with a frown, “We can’t live under the Sovereigns’ thumb and search for the broken Heart at the same time. We’ve become too accessible.”
“They summon us, we answer,” Wilder says with a drawl as he appears beside Kaspian. “Even if it’s by text.”
“Then maybe we should ignore it,” I challenge. “Unless you want to be under the Sovereign’s surgical scalpel next.”
It’s subtle, but Axe shudders under all his weaponry. “If there’s a good time to avoid them, it’s now. It’s the last semester before summer. They’ll be busy culling the initiates before summer trials.”
My stare cuts to Axe. I study his profile on closer inspection. Is that where he got the new scar? Helping to separate the strong from the weak in Thornhaven’s basement?
It would make sense. Axe is often utilized for the culling because he’s able to remain stone-faced throughout the thinning out.
“It’s worse now,” Axe confesses, though his face betrays no emotion. “They’ve added branding this year. On the inner bicep.”
“Of what?” Kaspian asks dubiously.
Axe points at my torso.
“Jesus,” Wilder says.
“But a smaller version, I take it,” I say with a sardonic edge.
Axe nods, a hint of grimness tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Smaller, yes. But the pain ... still excruciating.”
“They’re getting serious with the devil worship shit,” Wilder says.
Kaspian levels his shoulders. “Where do you propose we go?”
“To Elara’s,” I say. “Her estate, not her dorms. With her mother gone, it could become our fortress. We’ll be safe there for a time.”
Confidence stains my voice, spreading its unyielding belief that Elara is the key to all this, to our rebellion against the Sovereigns, to breaking my curse, to our quest for the ruby Heart.
Kaspian isn’t capable of expressing shame, remorse, or even apprehension. Yet his expression is tinged with … chagrin?