“Get. Up.” The Guardian planted his hands on his hips. “Now.” “Enough.” A new voice rang through the air. Zavier collected my discarded knife, joining us in the circle. He crouched before me, handing over the weapon. All I could do was look at it. My arm, limp and exhausted, hung at my side. Whatever he saw on my face made him frown before he stood. Then he crossed his arms over his chest as he spoke to the Guardian. “Enough.” “She’s not done,” he said. “It’s enough when I say—” “When I say it’s enough.” For the first time, Zavier sounded like a prince. The Guardian’s nostrils flared.
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Oooppp!!!!
