12
Jackson felt as though he were being sucked through a warp in space. He seemed to fold him in on himself until he was almost gone, then expand suddenly to land with a jolt, tangled in Prince Tarkyn’s arms. A rush of nausea welled inside him and he flailed to disentangle himself, pushing Tarkyn away unceremoniously, just in time to turn his head and vomit on the lawn.
“Aaah. Now I’m the one vomiting on Lord Argyve’s front lawn. I feel horrible.”
When he looked, he saw Tarkyn lying on his back, propped on his elbows with his head back. After a minute, Tarkyn shuddered and lifted his head. “You do know it is a capital offence to assault me?” he said, with an edge to his voice.
Jackson’s stomach lurched, from fear not nausea this time. This new assignment might be harder than he thought
