Chapter 35 · I'm deciding whether to cut your throat

She glanced down and released it as if the fabric had burned her.

"I'm deciding whether to cut your throat."

"That usually makes people nervous."

"You are impossible."

"And yet you keep touching me."

Her hand rose.

For a heartbeat, I thought she would slap me.

Instead, her fingers stopped beside my cheek. A smear of dust marked the edge of my jaw. She wiped it away with her thumb.

The contact was quick.

Too quick to be an accident.

Her face tightened, like she regretted it the second she did it.

"Don't make that face," she muttered.

"What face?"

"That smug one."

"You touched me."

"You had dirt on your face."

"There was dirt on my coat. You didn't touch that."

"Keep talking and I'll put dirt back on your face."

The stalker on the floor shifted.

Lyra spun, blade raised.

He had a small crystal in his hand.

"Drop it," she ordered.

He smiled through the broken mask.

"Too late."

The crystal flashed red.

I moved first. My shadow shot across the floor and wrapped around his wrist. Lyra kicked the crystal away.