The Runner (Part I of the Runner Series)

Chapter 11

I reach my limit precisely two weeks later.

"Enough!" I cry, throwing the papers to the ground and stomping over to the window. I rub my face in an attempt to alleviate my pulsing headache and mounting frustration.

I can hear Will's exasperated sigh from across the room, the chair shifting under his weight.

My fingers catch in my tangled hair, which only adds to my irritation. The weeks spent cooped up in this stuffy flat, poring over old texts and being drilled on customs and protocols, have tested what little patience I possess. My brain is filled to the brim with useless gossip about insipid people and I feel that if I were to try and squeeze in one more name, one more fact, I might explode.

I draw a shaky breath, listening as Will rises from his chair and crosses the room. The thought of him being anywhere near me sends another dull throb through my brow and I seriously consider shoving him out the window. I save us both the trouble and instead step out onto the ledge, turning and pulling myself onto the roof in one smooth motion.

"Kay!"

Ignoring Will's shouts, I sink down into a seated position and dangle my legs over the side of the building. I bask in the feeling of open space and the warm sunlight on my extremities. The fresh air is invigorating after the claustrophobia of the cramped flat.

"Kay," he yells again, more sternly.

I lean over the edge and see his head sticking out the window, staring up at me with his lips pressed tightly together.

"What?" I ask. I remain calm, knowing it will make him furious.

"This is ridiculous. Come back inside." His voice is low, bordering on dangerous.

I lean back again and stretch my toes straight out over the street. "Actually, I think I'm fine right here. Thanks for the invitation, though."

There is silence below me and I smile, picturing him struggling to control his temper. Let him stew for a change, the arrogant twit.

"Kay." Will's voice is controlled, which only prickles my annoyance. "Please, come inside. We'll take a break and get back to this lesson later."

It infuriates me when he pulls this trick, acting like he has complete authority while I am the confused fish-out-of-water who has to lean on him for direction. Not this time.

"Sorry, I can't hear you so well," I call, lightly. "If you have anything you would like to say to me, you are more than welcome to come up and say it to my face." I fall backward and rest my shoulders against the roof, closing my eyes against the sun's glare.

Minutes pass and I assume he has gone back inside. I take slow, even breaths as I warm myself in the sunlight, savouring these precious moments of peace.

Will's nerve is absolutely astounding. The thoroughness at which he approaches our lessons is relentless and shows a complete lack of trust in me. He has no faith in my own natural abilities and doesn't put any stock in the fact that I have been successfully slipping in and out of the Court for years. These thoughts start my blood boiling again and my hands clench into fists at my sides, gathering dust from the roof between my fingers.

I start at the sound of scuffling from below me. I sit up on my elbows and listen carefully, trying to decipher the noises.

A large hand suddenly appears and grips the ledge next to my knees, followed by another. Will's scruffy head comes into view as he lifts himself over the ledge using his forearms as leverage. I can't help but let out a snort of derision when he flops awkwardly onto his stomach, then rises to his knees, revealing streaks of dirt and dust all over the front of his otherwise pristine white shirt.