Green Jack

  Chapter 38

  Jane

  Jane had run for an hour before spending twice that amount of time attacking Nico with a staff. She’d practiced on her own just long enough to form more painful blisters, not quite long enough to improve. Now she felt rubbery and raw. Saffron leaned against the porch railing, watching her wrap her hands. “You’re trying too hard.”

  “I have to prove myself,” Jane insisted quietly. The sun was hot and intrusive, sticky as honey being poured between the tree branches. She tried not to remember how it had gilded Caradoc’s face when he looked at her and actually saw her.

  “You don’t actually.” Saffron grinned. “You’re with me, remember? And I have a plant growing out of my head so apparently I’m gold.”

  Jane had to smile. “I think you’re getting used to it.”

  “I had to pull a burr out of my nostril this morning.” She sounded like she didn’t care, which meant she cared too much. Jane hadn’t known her long, but they’d already escaped certain death together. A lot. Some friendships just started in fire and burned on.

  “Well, you’re getting used to Roarke, anyway.”

  Saffron groaned, pointing at Jane. “Don’t.”

  She blinked innocently. “Don’t what?”

  “You know what. You’re getting all starry-eyed with the romance crap.”

  She laughed. “I hope he reads you poetry.”

  Saffron was horrified. “That was just mean.” She nudged her. “I’m so proud.”

  Jane rubbed the back of her neck with a towel. The memory of Caradoc’s knife digging into the tattoo gave her an idea. She looked at Saffron thoughtfully. “Got a minute?”

  “For what?”

  “I need you to try and hit me.”

  “I’m not beating you up, Jane. You have enough bruises.”

  “Just try. I have an idea.”

  She pushed off the porch and circled her friend. “It’s a terrible idea, whatever it is.”

  Jane just nodded. “Go.”

  Saffron punched her in the face.

  Jane staggered back, pain daggering up her jaw. Saffron lowered her hands. “What, exactly is this supposed to prove?”

  She massaged her cheek. “Ouch. Try again.”

  Saffron rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t trying, Jane. I was doing. In case you hadn’t noticed.”

  Jane took a deep breath, felt for the prickles of power under her eyelids. Three breaths in, three breaths out, just as the Collegium professors had taught her. I am the earth where the seeds of wisdom grow.

  Saffron sighed, as if she was the one being punched, and swung again. Jane jerked back and her knuckles grazed her shoulder. “Better,” Saffron approved. She swung again and again.

  Jane followed the pinpricks of light behind her eyes, the itch burning in her legs, forcing her to move. She sidestepped an elbow aimed at her nose. She avoided the fist careening toward her left kidney. Saffron tried again, frustration turning her cheeks red. Jane followed the steps to a dance she hadn’t learned yet. It continued to work until Saffron kicked her in the thigh. She fell back into the dirt but she was grinning through her bruises.

  Saffron propped her hands on her knees, leaning over to catch her breath. “What the hell was that?”

  “Numen,” Jane replied, excited. “If I can predict the next strike, I can avoid it.” She wiggled her jaw. “You hit like a girl.”

  “Vicious and precise?”

  “Exactly.”

  Saffron reached a hand down to help her to her feet. “I think you’ve finally found you’re fighting style.”

  Something close to excitement tingled in her belly. Was this how Saffron felt every day? Walking through the world and knowing her worth, knowing that she could handle whatever came her way? It was intoxicating, invigorating.

  “I’m getting a drink,” Saffron darted into the cabin.

  Numen continued to pulse through Jane. Part of Jane knew she was moving, walking silently between the cabins and the trees, eyes blind to the camp, but tracking other movements. Her pupils went white, scaring most of the Greencoats into scrambling out of her way. She heard birds, the wind on the lake, footsteps.

  She shot an arm out, catching Livia in the throat. The other girl gagged and stumbled back, attack interrupted before it had even properly begun. Jane kept walking, climbing the steps to Caradoc’s cabin, where few were invited. He rose from a chair, frowning. Beside him, Roarke made a sound of surprise.

  Jane lifted her chin.

  “Now,” she said. “It has to be now.”