Shadow Touched (Editing)

59. NAIMA

Solditch's voice cuts through the room. It's scratchy, as if he's unaccustomed to speaking. It sends a chill up my spine.

My heart pounds a staccato beat. Fast and hard, it knocks against my chest. My palms slicken with sweat. My stomach clenches and turns as fear overtakes me.

I step back only to hit a warm, solid wall. Not a wall. Finch. He's stepped behind me at some point. When? I have no clue. But there he is, blocking my quick exit.

"Easy, Bunny," He says, his voice low and calm. He places his hand across the small of my back. Its warmth seeps into my chilled bones.

The sensation of his hand lessens the dread that consumes me. Funny, the room is a degree from freezing, yet the Captain remains warm as if he's somehow impervious to the Gloaming's chill.

Finch digs his fingers into my back, just enough to force me to stand up straighter. Taller. Prouder.

Satisfied that I'm steady and won't run, he steps out from behind me, making his presence more known.

I feel eyes on me. Expecting the penetrating steel gaze of Solditch, I'm shocked when I look up, and it's instead Grey's glare that bores into me. His Shadow-riddled eyes watch me and Finch. A look of utter disgust on his face.

My heart twists painfully before my eyes are drawn back to Solditch as, with a flick of his hand, the debris surrounding him is whipped up in a gust of wind and swept away.

He steps over the doors' threshold into the ballroom. Two more Shadow-Touched follow behind him. His personal guards. They match him step for step. Their cold black eyes don't bother to take in the room—that's how little of a threat we are to them.

The guards from each delegation have taken up defensive positions around their respective tables. As have King Vincent's. They leave only a slight gap for him to see through.

The room is silent. Solditch and his men's big boots stomp on the ceramic floor, echoing.

He walks to the center of the ballroom before spinning on his heel fast as lightning to face me. His black eyes shine with malevolence as they connect with mine.

"I see you remain as insolent as ever, girl." His words hit me like bricks, and his voice grates against my skin. His condescension is just what I need, though. It fills me with anger that burns hot and fast, melting my fear so that I'm only roiling with rage.

"Naima," Finch warns. "Don't do anything stupid."

"I'd listen to the Captain if I were you. Though I don't expect you to. Your father failed to heed Captain Finch, and where is he now?" He turns about the room as if he expects some fool in the crowd to answer. When no one does, he carries on.

"Dead." His eyes fix back on me.

His words incense me, which is exactly what he wants. I know this. Yet, I can't stop myself. That he would dare bring up my father—I push my way through the crowd.

As I do, I pull free the black pin holding my hair in place. Shaped like a snake, the black iridescent pin is a razor-sharp throwing dagger.

I fling the weapon with all my strength. It makes its way through the air, Solditch's right eye its target.

I can feel every member of the gentry holding their breath. But I know—I know as it flies through the air, I've lost the fight before it even starts.

Solditch doesn't blink as the tiny blade whizzes toward him. He doesn't try to stop it. Instead, one of his guards whips a hand to bat the thing away as if shooing a fly.