Page 143 of Glutton for Punishment

“He was using his power,” she says quietly. “I know how pathetic this looks. He’s just a pathetic bully, but…” She swallows hard. “It felt real, Atticus. He looked a hundred feet tall. I genuinely thought he was going to crush me into the floor.”

I move closer.

“That’s because Pride powers are largely psychological,” I explain. “He wasn’t physically changing size. He was manipulating your perception.”

Her hands, which had been trembling at her sides, curl into tight fists. She looks away from me, her jaw working silently before the words come out low and strained.

“Just like Daphne.” A bitter laugh escapes her. “How do you fight something that isn’t even real?”

“You don’t fight it physically.” I lean against the nearest desk, studying her. “You strengthen your mental shields, like we spoke about last year.”

She looks away.

“You haven’t been practicing them.”

“I’ve been a little busy escaping dungeons, dodging a new family that wants to kill me and, oh, you know… trying not to consume innocent civilians with my brand new Gluttony power.”

Fair.

“If you’re following a Gluttony second-year training schedule,” I say dryly, “I’m not surprised your shields are suffering. Gluttony prioritizes external forces. Pride prioritizes internal control.”

Her mouth twists.

I’m watching her drown while pretending distance somehow protects her. The thought of another Pride student cornering her like this makes something ugly twist beneath my ribs.

“I’ll train you,” I blurt.

Her brows lift. “What?”

“We’ll meet privately once a week. I’ll teach you how to reinforce your shields properly.”

“Atticus—”

“You need to defend yourself from mental intrusion.”

“What if your father finds out?”

I huff, “My father already assumes the worst.”

She still looks uncertain.

“We’ll be careful,” I say more quietly. “And it’s worth the risk if it keeps this from happening again. If we get caught, I’ll just tell him I forced you to meet me.”

Her expression softens. Then I remember the call from him only moments ago, and another wave of irritation crashes through me.

“There’s something else,” I admit, tucking my hands into my pockets. “My father arranged for Daphne Langley to attend the upcoming Gala with me.”

Arwen goes still, and I step closer. “I didn’t agree to it.”

“You can’t exactly tell your father no,” her face scrunches.

“He’s only forcing it because of the rumors surrounding us,” I continue. “He wants the academy to think I’m unattached.”

Her eyes lower briefly.

“I wanted you to hear it from me before someone else told you. Arwen, I’m so sorry. I hope you know she means absolutely nothing to me and I’ll spend the entire night dodging her.”

For a moment she just looks at me. I don’t breathe. Then she reaches up and cups my face between her hands, and the warmth of her palms against my skin after all this time apart hits me somewhere so deep and unguarded that my legs might give out.