Jack's POV
The whetstone scraped against the blade in my hand, each stroke a harsh whisper in the silence of the shed.
The smell of oil and rust clung to the air, thick enough to choke on.
My shoulders were rigid, my jaw clenched so tight it ached.
How could I have been so stupid to leave her outside the palace without protection !
The blade's edge glinted in the light coming from the window. How I wished it was sharp enough to split memories.
Memories like Kai's bloodied knuckles.
She nearly died today. Because of me. Because I couldn't protect her, here.
The shed door creaked open but I didn't look up.
"You always did hide in the dirt when you were sulking."
My father's voice was a serrated thing, slick and cold.
Jarvis Kinney leaned against the doorframe, his tailored coat untouched by the grime of the shed...he was also different from the Papa bear that came for breakfast with bad Dad jokes and easy going demeanor. That facade was gone.
