Page 109 of Psycho Gods

I finally had the room to myself, and the silence was blissful.

Until it wasn’t.

Knock. Knock. Someone was outside.

I stilled.

The door was enchanted to permit inhabitants entry—only an outsider would knock.

Apprehension prickled down my spine as I realized the party had created the perfect opportunity to get me alone. It might have been planned for that very purpose.

Sweat broke out across my forehead.

It was a good plan.

Sun god forbid my family members miss an opportunity to drink themselves into oblivion. Technically, I was twenty-five, but since they were under the misconception that I was a decade younger, I was left out. They’d know I’d be left behind.

Knock-knock-knock—knock.

The pattern was familiar.

Instantly, I felt sick to my stomach.

I was still waiting on a prosthetic for my leg and could barely maneuver around, let alone face who was at the door.

I cursed my family for putting me in this situation. If any of them bothered to use their critical thinking skills, then maybe I wouldn’t be left to shoulder dark consequences, but alas, they were oblivious, insensible, incognizant, and I was cornered.

Sitting on my lower bunk with a heavy tome spread across my lap, I debated the best course of action.

“I know you’re in there,” an ominous voice said.

With a deep, steadying breath, I closed The Ancient Art of War and Manipulating Those Around You and tucked it under my pillow.

I was on the bottom bunk, but it still took effort to roll myself out of bed without falling over. Grabbing onto the bedpost, I jumped on one leg.

My remaining knee was stiff and uncomfortable.

Apparently having my leg burned completely off wasn’t enough trauma, because new growing pains were making my joints perpetually achy. The lovely benefits of being a species who went through puberty in under a year.

I grimaced.

The door was only a few feet away, but it might as well have been miles.

Cursing the High Court for not getting me a prosthetic by now, I hopped forward awkwardly with my arms outstretched. They said they were acquiring one, but every time we asked, they acted weird about it. It had to be an intimidation tactic.

A foot away, I crashed onto the floor.

I crawled awkwardly on my elbows, then grabbed the doorknob and hoisted myself up. Foreboding washed over me as I opened the door.

Frigid air pooled into the room in a flurry of snowflakes and malfeasance.

“Hello, Jinx,” Dick said coldly as he brushed past me and entered the space like he belonged, which made sense because a corrupt oligarch was most at home in the suffering of others.

Cold from outside wafted in.

I hung off the door and said a quote often attributed to Plato, “The price of apathy toward public affairs is to be ruled by evil men.”

Dick smirked. “True.”