Except this time is different. My months of extra training paired with my seething fury turn me into some badass murder machine.
Whatever Reina sees in my face, she backpedals in terror.
Any other time, I would feel remorse. I hate the idea of anyone being afraid, even my enemies.
But not today. Not when I can close my eyes and still picture Aunt Zinnia and Jane and all the others lying bloody in the grass like a movie playing over in my head. Not when the sounds of those . . . those things feasting on them still echo in my ears.
Screw every one of you Fae-holes.
I stalk Reina. Toying with her. Making her feel the horror I felt. Desperation flickers inside her eyes as she makes sloppy attacks.
Attacks I repel with ease.
I’m faster than I was last year by a landslide. I strike out. The end of my baton connects with her again and again.
When I know she’s almost done, I drop the baton, ram the heel of my palm into her nose, and finish her off with a knee to her belly.
She collapses to the mat, writhing and gasping for air.
Eclipsa is grinning. A few feet away, Hellebore watches me lord over Reina, his eyes bored slits. I think I catch a hint of amusement inside those turquoise depths, but I barely register it.
My mind is fixated on one person.
I find Inara’s shocked gaze. Then, without looking away, I lean down and whisper in Reina’s ear, “I don’t care how much money and influence you have, if you ever screw with my family again, real or imaginary, I’ll end you.”
Reina’s twin boy toys help her to her feet, blood pouring from her nose and splattering on the mat. The shadows and Evermore are quiet as I let my furious gaze sweep over them, daring whoever was responsible to own up to it.
Deep down, I know this isn’t enough to deter them completely. But maybe they’ll think twice before involving my family.
Afterward, Valerian whispers in my ear, “That was sexy as hell.”
“Darn right it was,” I respond, grinning ear to ear.
A few shadows even clap me on the back, and Mack can’t stop talking about the fight on the way back to the dorms.
But my high only lasts until I see the flyer plastered to our door announcing the Lammas festival this weekend celebrating the victors of the first gauntlet.
Kicking Reina’s ass might have been easy, but whatever Hellebore has in store for us won’t be.
20
Friday comes way too fast. Instead of combat class in the evening, we’re taken to the gym, ordered to change into our Shadow Guardian uniforms, and each allowed to choose two weapons to wield in the gauntlet.
Wired with nerves, I fidget near the back of the line, toying with the metal zipper at the front of my outfit. When it’s my turn to choose my weapon, I stare at the table full of options before choosing a wrist-mounted crossbow and a standard issue iron infused sword.
Both are two of the most badass weapons I’ve ever been allowed to use—not counting the forbidden bow I stole last school year or Aunt Vi’s shotgun—but now, in my clammy hands, they feel about as lethal as twigs.
Mrs. Richter presides over the table of offerings, and she gives me a grim smile before handing me a metal sleeve with iron-tipped bolts and a back scabbard to carry the sword.
“Thank you,” I say, grateful for the extra supplies.
All of the students own personal scabbards and other equipment, many handed down for generations. Everyone but me. Mrs. Richter kindly promised I could borrow the shared equipment we use in class.
Most also had their own spandex Guardian uniforms made for the occasion. Even Mack finally gave in and let her dads order a beautiful, custom fitted outfit that fits her curves like a glove, a metallic sheen making the supple onyx fabric seem to ripple as she moves.
Mine, on the other hand, is a faded loaner uniform that’s stained with Titania knows what, is a size too big, and sags in the crotch.
Ruby already made a joke about me being happy to see her before I sent her off on a fake errand.