Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
B riony
The next morning I lie in for the first time in as long as I can remember, only emerging from my bed when Fly comes hammering on the door at 11 o’clock.
“Okay, sleepy head,” he says, crashing into the room, “you’ve slept long enough and I have been dying of curiosity out here. I need to know what happened last night.”
“Urgh,” I say, wiping the sleep from my eyes and blinking against the dim light. “Nothing happened. It was once again, completely uneventful.”
Fly’s face morphs from one of excitement, to one of disappointment.
He rests his hand on his hip. “Seriously? Nothing happened? Not even a peck on the cheek or a little hand holding? Nothing at all?”
“Nope, nothing.”
I scoot up the bed and Fly flops down on the end. He looks so deflated, I end up scrabbling around for something to tell him.
“I did go sneaking around their rooms.”
His eyes light up. “Find anything interesting?”
I consider this. “Err, no.”
Fly’s face falls again. “Oh, but I did end up pissing off Beaufort Lincoln.”
“That’s nothing new. I think you’ve irritated the hell out of him several times already.”
“No, this time I really upset him. He basically kicked me out of their tower. I think things may be officially over, once and for all.” I grin at Fly.
The relief I feel is indescribable. Things were becoming complicated with those men. I was feeling things I definitely shouldn’t have been feeling. Now it’s over I can get back to melting away into the background and discovering the truth about my sister.
Fly presses his lips together in disapproval. “Expect to collect some more black eyes, broken noses and sprained ankles then. Without their protection you are fair game. Odessa will probably try to kill you again.”
“I don’t know about that,” I say, yawning and stretching my arms over my head. “That’s what we argued about. Beaufort and the others ‘sorted her out’,” I frown, my arms falling down into my lap, “whatever that means.”
“Who cares what it means, if it gets her off your case, that’s all that matters.” He jumps off the bed. “Right, day off, remember? We can’t waste it.”
“Have you found anything for us to do?”
“Well … erm … no.” I flop back down into the bed. “But I thought we could go off exploring.” He tugs me upright. “Come on, let’s not waste the day.”
An hour later, we’re strolling around the academy campus with Clare. The day, as always, is gray and overcast, but it doesn’t stop all the other students from doing the same. It seems there really is nothing to do here but walk around aimlessly. That is until we notice everyone else seems to be heading in the same direction.
“Come on,” Fly says eagerly. “This could be something good.”
Neither Clare nor I are sure about that but we tag along after Fly anyway and find ourselves out by the field. Nearly the entire school is gathered out there too, most sitting on the edges of the field. Some have spread blankets, a couple seem to have carried chairs out here, everyone else either sitting on their coats or standing.
They are all peering out towards the field. I follow their gaze and the blood in my veins runs cold.
Out on the field are a group of shadow weavers. They’re playing some kind of game of tag, sprinting backwards and forwards across the field, tossing balls of shadow magic at each other, dodging and twisting away from the balls others send towards them. They’re laughing and joking but underneath there’s a sense of seriousness about them.
Despite the freezing cold weather hardly any of them are wearing shirts. Even the girls are dressed in sports bras. All of them are damp with sweat, and if the sun was actually shining, they’d be glistening. Among them, right in the center are the Princes: Beaufort, Dray and Thorne. Both Thorne and Beaufort have their shirts off displaying their impressively sculpted chests.
“Let’s go,” I say, tugging on Fly’s sleeve.
“What’s the hurry? Don’t you want to watch?” he says, eyes transfixed as he follows the shadows swirl and swerve across the clouded sky.
“No,” I say firmly, “I don’t.”
“It’s kind of beautiful,” Clare says with awe in her tone.
“It’s dangerous,” I hiss.
“Because you may have to actually acknowledge how freaking hot those three men are?” Fly rolls his eyes and drops to the ground, Clare taking the spot next to them.
“I’m not hanging around to admire them,” I hiss. “It’s what they want.”
Fly leans back on the grass, making himself comfortable. “I, on the other hand, am more than happy to oblige them by sitting and admiring the eye candy, especially as there is nothing else to do.”
“Everyone else is here,” Clare points out.
I spin my gaze around.
She’s right, everyone else is here. Which means …
“I’m going back to my room,” I blurt out, sprinting away before either can question me.
I race back into the campus, along the cobbled pathways until I reach my destination.
Nyneve Tower.
Amelia’s tower.
I tip my head back and peer up.
The lights are all out. Hopefully that means no one is in.
Leaning my weight against the door, I step inside and make my way up the staircase. There is no one to stop me this time and I make my way all the way up to room nine without meeting another soul.
I stare at the door. It’s plain. Nothing special. The number xx is embossed on the wood along with the new occupant’s name.
I reach out and touch the letters, imagining her name there instead.
How many times did she stand just here, unlocking her door, stepping inside?
I glance down at my feet, imagining hers positioned right here.
When I try the handle, the door is locked, of course. But it was worth a try. I give it a shove with my shoulder just in case I get lucky and it gives way. It doesn’t.
I yank a pin from my hair and drop to my knees, examining the lock. When you’ve been locked inside a room as often as I have, with nothing to do but attempt to escape, eventually you learn to pick a lock. It’s not as easy as people would have you believe. Of course, the more often you try, the more you practice, the easier it becomes. These days it doesn’t take me long and this lock proves to be a simple one. I have it clicking open in less than half an hour, listening out the entire time for anyone returning back to the tower. I got caught out yesterday. I won’t be so stupid again.
The room is dark when the door swings open and I stand frozen.
Stars knows why, but my skin prickles. This was the last place she lived. Her final home. It seems almost sacred.
I take a deep breath in, square my shoulders and step inside.
Immediately I’m disappointed. A bed, a wardrobe and a desk. The new occupant’s possessions scattered about – some clothes on the bed, books piled by the desk, shoes lined up along the wall.
There’s nothing special about it at all. It’s just an ordinary room.
Really, I knew it would be and yet I’d hoped to feel something. What exactly? Her presence? Her spirit?
I miss her so damn much. I’m so desperate to see her one last time. To talk to her again. To hold her hand. And I never ever will.
A sob bubbles up in my throat, but I swallow it back down, blink away the tears and go to investigate more closely.
There are no secret panels in the wardrobe. No loose bit of carpet. Nothing under the bed. I check everything twice – just to be sure.
Nothing.
I slump down on the desk chair, more disappointed than I care to admit. This was my only real lead. I have nothing else.
“What happened to you? Why didn’t you leave me any clue?” I say out into the open room and it’s then my eyes spy something on the surface of the desk. Names scribed into the wood. Scores of them. And among them, hidden in plain sight, my sister’s.
Amelia.
I trace my finger over the grooves.
This was one set back. I’m not giving up yet.