Chapter 57
Chapter Fifty-Seven
B riony
For a man who claims he doesn’t sleep, Beaufort seems pretty passed out to me. He lies face down on the mattress, arms and legs slung wide, one arm draped over my waist.
I chew on my lip and stare up at the canopy of his four-poster bed.
I can’t deny that that wasn’t anything but good. So good I know I am doomed. Because it was like the sweetest of honeys, the most potent of opioids – one taste and I won’t be able to help myself from coming back for more.
What the hell possessed me to come here tonight? What the hell compelled me to climb onto his lap like that? What the hell was I thinking?
I was thinking how good it would be for him to touch me again, to make me fall apart again. And it wasn’t like I wanted it. I needed it. My body has been craving his touch all week. I am already an addict.
The orgasms Beaufort Lincoln sucks from my body are like thunder and lightning, summer and winter, life and death and everything in between. Like the molecules of my body, the make-up of my soul, are being rearranged completely.
I sigh and turn my head to peer at his face.
His eyelids are closed, a set of thick eyelashes resting against the curves of his cheekbones; his lips tremor as he breathes in and out, his chest rising and falling.
He looks almost harmless like this, almost vulnerable – as if his body doesn’t possess the power and strength it does, as if his veins aren’t brimming with the shadows he can wield. He may look gentle now – I may have seen a more gentle side to him – but he is dangerous and I have allowed myself to walk willingly into his lair.
As I watch him, his lids flicker open and his silver eyes focus in on my face. He lifts his hand to stroke my cheek.
“Okay, little thrall?”
I bite my lip and nod.
Am I?
I feel like a traitor. I feel like I’ve betrayed my sister and all for a good looking boy who makes me feel good. I am the worst of the worst.
“You’re not worrying again?”
I shake my head and his finger meanders down my cheek, over my jaw and down my throat.
“You’ll be safer with our collar on. And shit, our collar is going to look so good wrapped around your neck.”
I pull away from his touch. “I’m not wearing a collar. Just because we slept together does not mean–”
He groans and flops back down on the mattress. “Not this bullshit again.”
“It isn’t bullshit,” I say. I don’t want to argue, not now when my skin is still tingling and my core buzzing and I feel … content. Not when the trial is tomorrow and I have more important things to think about.
Then again, maybe this is my opportunity to make him understand my point of view.
He rolls over onto his back. “It is bullshit.”
“Why do we have to label this thing between us as something? Why do we have to label it that ? Can’t we just enjoy each other’s company?”
A wicked smile meanders over his lips. “I really fucking enjoy your company. But this isn’t a negotiation. This doesn’t work unless you are our thrall. All our thrall.”
I tut. “Thorne doesn’t even want me to be his thrall.”
“Not true.” He turns his head to look at me. “I don’t understand. You like it when I touch you. You like it when I make you come. You came here tonight looking for it. And yet … Why are you so against it?”
“I’ve told you.”
He shakes his head. “Those aren’t reasons. You know, I know, the entire damn academy knows, you are better off as our thrall. Even if you hated our very souls you’d be better off as ours. Even if we abused you and treated you badly you’d be better off with us.”
“Because I’m so weak and pathetic I couldn’t possibly look after myself?”
“Correct.”
I scowl at him. “I’m stronger than I look and I’d rather take my chances on my own than belong to someone else.”
“And end up dead.”
Amelia. That plain wooden box .
I look away from him.
“Why are you so against it?” he repeats. “Why really?”
I snap my head back towards him. “Shadow weavers killed my sister!”
Shock spirals across his face, followed quickly by anger. “Who?”
“I … I don’t know. They never told us, but I intend to find out.”
“How?”
“I’m not sure yet. I think there may be information in the lib–”
“No, how did they kill her?”
“I don’t know–”
“You don’t know? You must–”
“All they told us – all they would tell us – was that she was killed in crossfire between shadow weavers practicing at the academy.”
“She died at the academy?” I nod. “Ahhhh,” he says, the anger and tension leaving his face.
“What?” I say with irritation. “What do you mean by ‘ahhh’?”
“It happens.”
“What does?”
“Accidents. Especially here at the academy. You said it yourself, people die here. You can’t hold all shadow weavers responsible for something–”
“Accident?” I snap, throwing back the covers and jumping up onto my knees. “It wasn’t an accident. She was special. And so they killed her.”
He rolls up to sit, the blankets coalescing around his waist.
“Why? Why would they kill her?”
I open my mouth. I don’t have the answers to that. It’s what I intend to find out.
“She wandered into crossfire,” he says. “Unfortunate but–”
“That’s what they told us. It’s all just a lie. I know it isn’t true.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
My heart pounds in my ears and in my throat. I could tell him the whole truth. The reason I know this could never have been an accident. But then I remember Professor Tudor’s warning. Throwing around accusations could land me in trouble. I’ve already said too much.
“Training often leads to collateral damage,” he says. “People get hurt. People die. It’s the way of the fucking world.”
I leap out of the bed. “My sister was not collateral damage. And maybe I don’t like this world! It’s corrupted and unfair and molded to benefit people like you!”
“Me? To benefit me?” He laughs bitterly.
“Yes, you and all the other shadow weavers too. It’s down to plain old luck where we’re born and yet you live in luxury and splendor while the rest of us shiver in the cold, scrabbling about to find enough food to eat. Have you ever actually been to Slate Quarter? Because that picture down there on your wall is so embellished it’s laughable!”
“It’s only fair that those taking the highest risks should reap the highest rewards.”
“You don’t think working in a mine has its risks, working the land all through the winter?”
He scoffs. “You can’t possibly conceive how dangerous the threat to our realm really is. Because you’ve never faced the demons and the monsters that are out there. You don’t understand how hard my kind are working every minute of every day to protect this realm. How much we are risking. Why? Three alone were killed last month! You’re na?ve,” he says patronizingly and I have a deep desire to slap my hand across his face. Instead, I rummage around the room, looking for clothes I can pull on my body.
“And you’re a dick.”
“I’m sorry about your sister but you can’t–”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
I find my pajamas discarded in a pile in the corner.
“What the fuck are you doing now?” he says with irritation of his own.
“Leaving,” I tell him, pulling on my pants and my shirt.
“It’s the middle of the night!”
“So what?”
“It’s not safe out there.”
“Because other shadow weavers might come for me? Like they did my sister, you mean? You know what, I think you’re the monsters!” He glares at me. “I made it here on my own tonight, didn’t I? I’ve survived the last twenty-one years just fine. I can look after myself.”
“Really because all the black eyes, broken noses and sprained ankles suggest otherwise. And as I understand it, they weren’t from shadow weavers.”
I’m half tempted to tell him about the way Henrietta struck me with lightning, but I am done with this conversation.
I storm towards the door.
“This is over,” I tell him, with my hand on the door knob.
“No, it’s not. This won’t ever be over.”
I open my mouth to argue with him, but it’s pointless. He’s as stubborn as I am. I’m not going to waste my time arguing over the point. This was a mistake. A huge one.
I’ve been keeping my sister’s death a secret for a reason. I don’t know what happened to her and I don’t know why she was killed. There’s a possibility I could be in danger too.
I trusted him. What a fool I am! Because, he just dismissed my sister’s death as meaningless as if it was no more important than breaking a vase or stepping on a snail. He is as conceited and cruel as I first suspected.
From now on I’m going to have nothing to do with him or his brothers – no matter the cost.