Briony
I stroll through the campus in the half-light as the dawn crawls over the horizon. It’s quiet, everyone still sleeping and the buildings still and peaceful. Even the ravens aren’t flapping across the sky, screeching as usual.
Contentment hums in my belly and in my body. It isn’t a feeling I think I’ve ever truly experienced before. It’s strange, alien and pleasant. I could get used to it but I know that is a dangerous thing. This contentment won’t last – it can’t. One thing Slate Quarter teaches you is that hope is pointless. Sooner or later everything turns to shit. So no matter how nice the Princes seem, no matter how well they’re treating me now, I can’t – or won’t – believe it will last.
I’m so engrossed in my thoughts, I don’t realize where I am until I’m passing right outside the library.
I halt.
Everyone is sleeping. I imagine Professor Tudor will be sleeping as well.
This is my opportunity to go back inside and find that book. This is my opportunity to understand what really happened to my sister.
The only problem is, I don’t have a light – it was dark enough in the library during the middle of the day, but in the half-light of dawn, I imagine it will be impassable.
I’m considering where best to steal a candle or even a lamp, when my eyes stray to the roof of the library and to the windows that run just beneath it, and I realize it’s not dark in the library at all. The windows glow with an orange light. There’s someone in there. In the early hours of the morning.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m creeping up the steps to the building and pulling at the heavy door. It’s unlocked and I slip inside, hugging the shadows as I try to see who is in here this morning and what the hell they are doing.
Light flickers from somewhere deep in the stacks of the library and, faintly across the distance, I can hear voices – hushed voices despite the lateness of the hour. With my back tight to the wall, I strain my ears.
Two voices – one male, one female.
Maybe this is some illicit hook-up and I should get out of here before I’m accused of being a peeping tom. But then I recognize the first voice. Madame Bardin.
It makes no sense. Why would she be in here at this time of the morning?
I glide against the wall, edging closer.
“There are other ways. There is no need to resort to such menial actions,” she purrs, her voice seductive and dangerous.
Perhaps this is some rendezvous after all. Maybe with one of those twins. Maybe with both.
“Not ones I am willing to take,” the other voice hisses back. A voice I know. A voice I knowwell.
Professor Tudor.
Madame Bardin and Fox Tudor.
Of course!
It would make sense – the woman is beautiful in a strangely intimidating way and Professor Tudor is the only young attractive teacher on campus – if you discount the gruesome twosome who may be young but are definitely not attractive. It was inevitable that they would end up together.
But why meet in the library? They must have their own private rooms. Unless this is their thing, some kind of kink.
I guess I shouldn’t judge. I did let Beaufort Lincoln finger me on top of his chest of drawers. I did let two men bathe me.
Do I really want to overhear the two of them getting it on?
I should leave. This is a private moment and I don’t want to be caught snooping yet again – especially when these two are likely to be a lot more angry about it than Beaufort. However, my feet don’t move when I ask them to. Although the two of them together makes perfect sense, there’s also something about it that is strange. Fox’s tone isn’t one of a lover and I can’t help but hang about to hear more.
“There are other options open to you,” Madame Bardin says, “you could find yourself a–”
“I said no!”
She laughs. “Always so noble, so full of ideals, so naïve. It’s what I liked best about you.”
Professor Tudor growls lowly which only makes Madame Bardin laugh harder.