Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
He was in the process of wrapping tape around his knuckles. Beads of sweat dripped from his temples. “You ran out of the archduke’s class.” My great leader didn’t bother to meet my gaze, just continued to prepare for battle. “Convince me you had a good reason to do something so ill advised.”
Knew it! “I verged on having a panic attack, si—High Prince.”
He worked his jaw. “Sir is fine. Continue with your explanation. Because I know you’re not foolish enough to think a panic attack makes what you did okay.”
Why was sir fine now but not before? “No. Yes. I—”
My speech faltered when he stood, suddenly towering over me. He reached over my shoulder for a towel. For a moment, his breath fanned my face. His chest nearly brushed mine. I refused to back up, thereby giving in to a surge of intimidation. Yes, yes, intimidation and nothing else. The fact that his incredible scent sent my pulse into overdrive meant nothing.
“Let’s be clear. You’re telling me meeting the medic in the hallway had nothing to do with it,” he said, dabbing his face with the cloth.
I narrowed my eyes. Was I being surveilled? “He was in the area, saw me, and helped. Nothing more.”
The HP met my gaze at last, and I almost wished he hadn’t. Cold fury stared back at me. “When you exited the classroom without permission, you disrespected Archduke Heta and disrupted his lecture. Both are punishable offenses. As your superior, I’m responsible for teaching you the error of your ways.”
“I’ve learned, I promise. Sir. But if I’d sought permission, I would’ve disrupted his lecture far more. By leaving, I allowed him to continue without interference.”
“Clearly, you’ve learned nothing. What are excuses, Miss Roosa?”
My lips pursed. Back to miss. “Lipstick on fear, High Prince Dolion.”
He crossed his arms over his pecs. “Stake your life on your defense of your actions, and I’ll inform Archduke Heta no further punishment is required. But I’ll also insist you prove your case.”
Dang him. He’d backed me into a corner. “What’s my punishment?” I grumbled.
“I’ll put it in terms you’re sure to understand. To produce good fruit, you must be pruned. Consider me the wielder of the gardening shears. Report to my office after drills.”
He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t push for more details, which would possibly earn a second punishment. But, um, how did he plan on pruning me? Wondering for the rest of the day was going to suck on every level.
“Sir, if I may—”
“You may not. I’ll hear my thanks now.”
He couldn’t be serious. But his hard stare said he was. “Thank you, sir,” I gritted out.
“The lighter your sentence, the less honor I pay a man I admire. I’m furious with myself for not locking you in solitary with a hologram. Don’t make it worse for either of us.”
Put like that . . . “Thank you, sir. Truly.”
He held my gaze, silent, and something strange arced through me. Something I couldn’t name. Because I didn’t want to.
“I should probably, um . . .” I backed up.
“Go.” He motioned with his head. “Join the others.”
Eager to leave his vicinity, I shuffled over to the mat. The rest of the team had arrived during our consultation. Most gazed at me with curiosity, but only Roman approached.
“You get reamed for what happened in Heta’s class?” he asked, ruffling my hair.
“Thoroughly.” My nose crinkled as I batted his hand away.
He laughed. “Next time stay put, even if you’re screaming. Trust that your instructor will help you.”
Yeah, okay, that made sense. “Thank you for the tip. It does help.”
“Everything I say does.”
I rolled my eyes at him and got another laugh. Two medics strode into the room. Shiloh! Without thought, I waved and smiled at him. His companion snickered and elbowed him in the stomach. Oops. Maybe I shouldn’t publicly broadcast our acquaintance. There might be a rule against medics and gentry mixing. But Shiloh waved and smiled in return, unabashed.
“Take your places,” the HP commanded, stalking to the mat’s center. The bell rang.
Only Roman knew what take your places meant, and we followed his lead, branching out to surround our instructor from the edges.
The high prince lifted his face, projecting all kinds of annoyance. “First things first. Cash lied during his evaluation. Now everyone else is being rewarded for telling the truth with a valuable lesson. I never make empty threats.”
Our collective attention zoomed to Cash, who hung his head in shame.
“He will remain silent for two weeks,” the HP added, not quite scowling but close. “If he speaks, even once, he’ll wear a muzzle. One way or another, he will comprehend the importance of having a voice and using it well, or he will suffer.”
My dread returned, doubled. Seriously, what did the high prince have in store for my pruning?
“Moving on.” His expression remained unchanged. “This is self-defense. You may have taken lessons before, but I’d advise you to forget everything you think you know. The maddened of Theirland aren’t like those you’ve encountered in Ourland.”