Page 17 of Fractured Fates
“Are you sure you don’t want to come in and watch?”
He stares at me with his hard eyes and I slink inside the bathroom and shut the door.
“Good luck,” he calls with sarcasm from the other side. “The water is probably cold.”
I grimace. That does not sound inviting, but I’m smelly and covered in grime from the forest and the bikes. I need to wash.
Once I’ve bolted the bathroom door, stripped out of my clothes and stepped under the dribbling faucet, I realize this probably wasn’t the brightest idea I’ve ever had. It wouldn’t take much for those two men to break down the door and come at me. It probably isn’t a great idea to be sharing a room with them either. But as I massage the rose-smelling soap into my skin, my worries slip down the plug hole.
I’m half way through shampooing my hair, my eyes drifting shut as I scrape my nails against my scalp, when the water snaps freezing cold.
I scream and jump out of the shower, shampoo running down my back as I shiver in the cool bathroom.
“What the Hell?” I mutter, fiddling with the faucet.
“Get out of the shower!” Stone shouts from the other side of the door and I know instantly he is responsible for the water’s sudden temperature change.
“Why?” I yell. What is this guy’s problem? He’s such an asshole.
“You’ve been in there long enough, that’s why.”
“I’m half way through washing my hair.” I brace myself, ready to brave the cold water and finish cleaning.
“Tough shit!”
The water snaps off.
“Hey,” I yelp, but no attempts at wrangling the faucet, or tempting water from the tap with my magic, starts the shower going again.
I curse and squeeze as much of the bubbles out of my hair as I can. Then I step out reluctantly, drying down my body and hair quickly with the rough towel on offer, and trying to warm myself up.
I didn’t pack any pajamas so I pull on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants. When I step back out into the bedroom, both men peer my way, their gazes straying down my body, lingering fleetingly at my chest. I follow their eyes and find my stiff nipples are visible through my shirt.
Not wearing a bra was another big mistake. I hurry across the room and drop down into a chair. I really hope I can convince the top dogs at the authorities that I can skip the academy because I clearly have a lot to learn when it comes to navigating social interactions. Especially social interactions with men.
“Here,” Stone says, tossing me a packet of sandwiches. I catch it from the air and stare down at the label.
Ham.
Pip snuffles from somewhere in the room and I leave the packet unopened, ignoring another of Stone’s smirks.
“How far do we have to go?” I ask, acting nonchalant, like the man’s games aren’t getting to me. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of asking why he has a problem with me.
“We should be there by nightfall tomorrow,” the man in black tells me.
“And where exactly are you going to take me?”
“To the Chancellor.”
I nod and tug at my t-shirt. “And who exactly is the chancellor?”
Stone huffs like it’s the stupidest question ever asked.
“The head of the authorities.” When I stare at him blankly, he adds: “He or she is an elected official, voted in by the council every five years.”
“And who votes in the council?”
“No one. The council is made up of the most powerful families among the magical people.”
