Page 19 of Storm of Shadows
“I bet they did,” Dray calls out.
“In recognition of this highly valued relationship, one that served our realm well, this academy continues the tradition. The most distinguished and talented among you will be given the privilege of choosing athrallfrom among the other students – someone who will serve and aid you during your time at the academy – just as the squire did his shadow weaver master. It is another way in which we, as shadow weavers, can demonstrate to the others how much more superior we are than them. How their role in our society is to serve and please us – while ours is to protect them from the darkness.”
I lift my gaze and stare at the deputy headmistress. Her eyes are glowing and a twisted smile now rests on her face.
“Those given this privilege have already been informed. Choose your thrall wisely and … do enjoy yourselves.”
She stands up straight and strolls from the room, the incessant chattering starting up again immediately.
“Yeah, Beaufort,” Kratos calls from down the table. “Choose wisely.”
“Shut up, Kratos,” Dray says in a bored tone. “We all know you have the worst taste in Onyx Quarter. Didn’t you screw your own cousin?”
The room laughs – all except Kratos who stares daggers towards our end of the table.
Beaufort looks at me. “You understand why it has to be her.” I nod. “You could look happier about it. Dray’s been chewing off my ear.”
I raise my gaze to meet his.
“Why would I be happy about it?”
My friend stares back at me. Then decides to change the subject. “What do you make of our competition here?”
I scoff, wondering why he’s bothering to ask me. Most of the other shadow weavers we have known for years. We grew up together, went to school together, we were trained together. Okay, there are a handful we know less well, but that’s because they come from the weaker, less powerful families. Of course, I’ve been watching them nonetheless, just in case.
“I see no threats.”
“Kratos’ acting like he’s growing more powerful.”
“It’s an act,” I tell him, sliding away from the server as he reaches around to lay my plate of steak and steaming vegetables on the table in front of me. I wait until the server is gone, then hesitate. Scratching the rough seam of my glove against my chin. “The girl could be a problem though.”
“Girls always are,” Dray says, turning away from Dallan on his other side and focusing his attention on us. He winks at me, his mouth full of food.
“I wouldn’t know,” I say coolly.
“How do you mean?” Beaufort asks, sawing through his steak, frowning. “How will she be a problem?”
“She’ll be a vulnerability,” I say.
“Exactly,” Dray says, waving his knife around. “That’s what I’m saying. She’s so puny looking, a gust of wind would snap her in two.”
Excitement sparks in my gut. I’d like to own something I could break.
“No one will touch her,” Beaufort says lowly. “Not if she’s ours.”
Ours.
Why do I like the idea of that so much?
Because it is a problem. It’s not good to want anything. It’s even worse to desire it.
I push my plate to one side, stand up and walk the length of the table. And you can hear all that twinkling music now because the room falls silent like before, even the scrape of cutlery and the crunch of food ceases as they all watch me leave.
I don’t know what I expected from the academy. It’s an eventuality I knew was coming all my life.
For most it’s an opportunity to thrive, to taste freedom, to indulge all their hidden desires. For me it already feels like a cage.
Too many people. Too little space. No room to breathe.
