Orion shakes his head. “I chose this spot for a reason. Why didn’t you put any effort into honing your magic at the Academy?”
I shoot him a raised eyebrow. “Because I was a youth who spent more effort chasing females than caring about my marks.”
Orion shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s it.”
“Then pray tell, why do you think I didn’t try?”
“I think you’re the second son. The backup. The heir your father didn’t need. I think you saw your brother being groomed for the throne, and you—”
“Yes, yes,” I say, interrupting my mentor. “I didn’t see a need for enhancing my skills when all I was going to be was a powerless, spoiled brat, anyway.” I yawn; Orion’s assessment of me is so predictable.
“That’s not what I was going to say. I think you were so openly criticized by your father for everything you did, you learned not to attempt the things that didn’t come naturally to you. I think you learned that having your father call you lazy hurt significantly less than having him call you incompetent.”
Orion goes quiet, eyeing me with curiosity, as if to watch and see whether his blow has landed.
Anger boils in my chest, seeping into my bloodstream, causing my heart to pound. It has me longing to wipe Orion’s smug look off his face. Not that I have the power to get near him, which I suppose is the point.
Incompetent. That’s what I am, what I’ve always been.
He’s right. The word somehow hurts worse than being called lazy. At least with laziness, there’s some agency about it.
Incompetence is something entirely more daunting.
My jaw works, and I can’t seem to find the words to answer.
When Orion speaks, there’s no pity in his voice, which I appreciate. “I brought you out here because if you ever want to cultivate your magic, you’re going to have to get used to failing. And failing where anyone and everyone can see.”
I nod, fighting the dagger that has lodged itself in my throat.
“Now,” says Orion. “Where were we? Oh, right. You were trying, and failing, to stop my attacks by bending my vines backward, causing them to attack me instead.”
I sigh, too exhausted to bother with a retort. Instead, I just crouch back into a defensive stance.
“Again,” I groan.
Orion’s smile is feral. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Then he sends a vine barreling straight through my shoulder.
CHAPTER 61
BLAISE
I have to physically dig my fingernails into the metal railing to keep from flinging myself in the middle of the fight between Nox and Abra.
My heart pounds as she sidesteps his attack, hearing him even with her back turned. Nox goes flying for the vat of sunlight, his cheek almost skimming the deathly liquid’s surface before he stops himself with his hands on the railing.
The weight of his impact causes the liquid sunlight to slosh over the rim, coating his hands in the stuff.
Nox lets out a strangled shout as a sizzling noise punctures the thick air, the liquid sunlight burning away his skin.
I feel as though I’m going to be sick. Though I want nothing more than to help him, though he’s changed the plan, I know in my heart this is the best distraction I’m going to get for freeing Piper.
I skirt around the railing at the edge of the room, honing my senses in on the fight that’s now broken out between Nox and Abra. Still, I don’t let myself look, just listen.
The sizzling of flesh, the wiping of the liquid sunlight onto his coat, the stretching of skin reknitting itself. Abra’s cry of anger as she lashes out at Nox.
Piper—I have to focus on saving Piper.
There’s a crash down below, but I don’t let myself look.
Instead, I use the sound as a cover as I sneak up behind Piper and whisper in her pointed ear that I’m here to help.
She startles, distracted by the fight breaking out below, but when I go to rip the restraints from her hands, I realize she’s already clawed her way through half of the layers.
She’s pretty good.
No wonder Abra tied her to the rafters. She probably hoped it would limit Piper’s movement, given if she struggled too much, she would fall.
The ropes rip with ease with the talons for fingernails I can now summon at will. As soon as I cut her free, she flips herself over, hands grasping at the railing to steady herself.
Piper gives me a nod of appreciation, but she doesn’t stop to ask questions as she scampers away down the long metal railing that cuts across the ceiling.
I try to hiss that she needs to wait for me, but she’s already halfway across the railing.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter how stealthy Piper is.
There’s no hiding that red hair.
