Adriel POV
"Get your hands off me before I take your fingers off," I growl, pulling my boots out of the thick puddle of vomit staining the carpet.
Novalee jumps backward, her bare feet narrowly missing the splash zone.
"Are you completely pathetic, or did you just fail to prepare your soft royal stomach for real magic?" Novalee laughs, wiping a stray drop of sweat from her forehead.
"Your transport magic smells like burning copper and wet dog," I say, coughing hard until my throat feels raw. "It has nothing to do with my stomach."
"Air and electricity always leave a bitter sting in the air," Novalee says, patting my shoulder with far too much force. "I should have given you a warning before I tore us through the fabric of the room."
"A warning would have kept your floor clean," I say
