Chapter 51
Chapter Fifty-One
B eaufort
I close the door of my bedroom and pad down the staircase to the lower floor. Thorne’s nowhere to be seen. For all I know, he’s still out there on the field, tossing around his magic. The dude seems even more obsessive and insular than usual.
Dray, however, is waiting for me, big grin on his face, glass of whisky in his hand.
“That was fucking fun,” he says.
“You think it’s fun that someone abused and tortured our thrall?” I say quietly.
The grin falls from his face and something more sinister takes its place. Dray is one step away from being unhinged, hanging on to civility by the skin of his teeth. I’ve no doubt if the person responsible for those scars were here now, he’d transform into his wolf and tear them limb from limb – that’s if I didn’t get there first.
“Who do you think it was?” Dray asks, growling.
“Someone from home.” I take up the glass of whisky waiting for me on the mantelpiece and take a long drawn out swig, enjoying the burn it causes right the way down my gullet. “I’ll have it looked into.”
Dray rocks on his toes, swilling his drink around his glass. “I could go ask a few questions of the shits from the Slate Quarter.”
I’m pretty sure by ‘ask a few questions’ he means ‘torture until they tell me’.
“No,” I say, “she won’t want everyone knowing. You saw how self conscious she was about it.”
“She shouldn’t be. That girl has a body made for sin, and fuck I cannot wait to indulge in some filthy immoralities.” His eyes twinkle and he actually tips back his head and howls towards the ceiling.
“Not tonight. She’s resting.”
He lowers his head. “I’m not a jackass.”
I slump down into one of the armchairs, rest my drink on my knee and stare off into the fire.
I wish I could access that vision again. I wish I had control over the sight. I wish I could use it and bend it to my will – rather than the hopeless way my gift presents in flashes and glimpses.
Don’t get me wrong, I like the girl. She’s growing on me and I like her a lot. Especially when she’s down on her knees sucking my cock with that pretty mouth of hers. Hell, I even like it when she’s arguing with me. But that doesn’t mean I understand. Why her?
A girl from Slate Quarter. A girl abused back in Slate Quarter. If I had any lingering hope she might be someone special after all, that maybe she’d have some unknown power soon to be revealed, well, the scars on her back have put heed to that.
She’s no unrevealed shadow weaver. There is no way one of us could go through torture like that and not reveal our true nature.
“Where exactly is she resting?” Dray asks with suspicion.
“My bed.”
“Not the room we have set up for our thrall on the fifth floor then?” he says with annoyance.
I take another sip of my drink, smiling into the liquid. “I thought she’d be more comfortable in my bed.”
Dray slams his empty glass down on the mantelpiece.
“I’m going to go look for Thorne,” he says sulkily.
Once he’s gone, I fetch what’s left of the bottle and climb back up the stairs, peering around the bedroom door to find the girl already fast asleep.
I stare at her enviously. I don’t sleep much these days, too much raging around in my head, too much to consider, to think about, to prepare. That’s if I want my future to pan out the way it should. Some days – every so often – I’m not sure I do.
Life in Slate Quarter may be grim, but I bet it’s a hell of a lot simpler.
Quietly, I close the door again and retreat to my study, dumping the whisky bottle and the glass down on my desk and drawing up the chair. Across the surface of my desk lie open books, the recent accounts of events across the realm, letters from my family and my own notebooks, scribbled with my thoughts and memorandums.
Fresh accounts were delivered by raven to our tower this evening as usual, hand written and laid out across the scroll, tied with bine. I snip through the bind with my powers and unwind the tiny scroll. The writing that runs across its width is tinier still and I position it under the waiting magnifying glass and begin to read.
At some point I hear the door of the tower slam open and close, muffled voices and heavy footfall, then silence again. A sliver of moonlight moves across my desk from east to west as the hours pass and then slowly the first lights of dawn creep through the window.
I hear my bedroom door open.
I rest my pen down, sit back in my chair and peer out towards the landing through my open study doorway.
The girl steps out onto the landing, stretching her arms above her head and then spins her gaze around. She’s dressed in her own clothes again but her golden hair remains loose and tangled around her shoulders and more color has returned to her cheeks.
“Contemplating some more snooping, little thrall?” I say.
The little thing jolts, her hand flying to her chest, before she spots me through the doorway. She pads my way, coming to a stop by my desk.
“I was wondering where you were. It’s early, isn’t it?”
I glance towards the clock on the wall.
“5:37am.”
“Jeez,” she mutters. She glances down at the paperwork spread across my desk. “Are you working? Shit, there isn’t an assignment I don’t know about, is there?”
“No, it’s realm business.”
“Realm business,” she teases, “that sounds very important and mysterious.” She strains her eyes towards my desk and I brush everything aside.
“Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
She shakes her head. “I feel much better. Still a little sore and uncomfortable. But the worst of it is over.” She smiles at me. “I’m going to head back to my own room now. I need to be ready for class in a few hours.”
I take her hand in mine, threading my fingers through hers.
“You could stay and have breakfast here with us.”
She doesn’t shake her head immediately and I take that as progress. She’s tempted by the offer, tempted to spend more time with us.
“I’d happily eat you out for breakfast,” I offer.
She rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the little shiver of desire. “You sound like Dray.”
“Dray may be one crazy bastard but he does get some things right.”
“I have my period, remember?” I shrug. “I’ve got to go.”
“In a moment,” I tell her, pulling her towards me and reaching up with my free hand to cup the back of her head and draw her mouth right onto mine. I kiss her, deep and long and slow, exploring her mouth with my tongue, until she’s sighing against my lips and her knees are buckling.
When I lean away, her eyes are closed and there’s even more color in her cheeks. In the half-morning light, she looks so damn pretty. I’m not sure I’ve ever truly acknowledged it before, ever really understood. And when she opens her eyes, they are so green and vivid, I have to concede; she’s probably the most beautiful woman I know.
Maybe it’s not surprising that I want her so badly.
But that won’t be today. She’s already unhooking her hand from mine and pushing away.
“I’ll see you on Friday.” She frowns. “The trial,” I clarify. The color drains from her face. “You’re worried about it?”
“You aren’t?” she scoffs.
“No, not really.” And, stupidly, it hadn’t occurred to me, or maybe I just hadn’t given it any thought that she would be. The trials are difficult even for fairly accomplished shadow weavers. Of course, they’d be damn terrifying if you were a plain old commoner. “We could–”
“It’s fine. We’ve been researching.” She straightens her shoulders and lifts her chin – the way she does when she’s being defiant. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
I nod, dragging her to me for one last kiss and then watching as she walks towards the staircase.
Of course, what she doesn’t know – what she’ll never understand – is that I will always worry about her. I will always want her safe.