Page 92 of Storm of Shadows
“How do you,” Clare says, hiccuping, “give a good blow job?”
Fly spins his glass around in his hand, clearly considering his answer. “Hmmm, you got to keep it wet. You can never have enough spit in my opinion. And the head is the most sensitive part, so don’t worry about trying to fit it all in your mouth. Then do what feels good, or what they seem to like – suck, lick – and be careful with those teeth.”
Clare nods like she’s taking notes.
“There’s one or two fine specimens here at the academy I’d like to refine my skills on.” Fly sighs.
“That boy from the third group is really cute,” Clare says.
“The one with red hair?” She nods. “Yeah, he is very cute.”
I’m about to ask them who exactly they are talking about, but then the tower clock rings out – eight loud chimes.
“Oh shit,” I say, knocking back what’s left in my glass and jumping to my feet. I discover standing is a lot harder than it used to be. My legs and my feet no longer seem as stable as they once were and my vision is spinning. I sway, grabbing hold of the back of a chair to stop myself from tumbling. “I’m going to be late.”
“So you are going, then?” Fly says.
“Yes, I’m going,” I say, walking a route towards the door that is definitely not straight.
Despite all my best efforts, the Princes don’t seem to have lost interest. They haven’t replaced me with some other thrall. And as much as I’d like to stay here with my friends, if I do I’ve no doubt Beaufort and Dray will be here to cart me away. Kicking and screaming if they have to.
“I think I’d better take you there.” He swings his gaze between me and Clare. “Both of you are a lot drunker than I thought you were. You’re both lightweights.”
“I’ve never drunk before,” Clare protests as I say:
“I don’t really drink.”
Fly takes Clare by the shoulders. “You stay here. Don’t go anywhere, okay? I’ll walk Briony over to the Princes’ Tower.”
“You don’t want me to come too?”
“No,” he says gently, “you stay here and rest. I’ll be right back.”
Then he turns his attention to me, joining me by the door and offering me his elbow. I’m grateful for it.
“Come on,” he says, “we’d better get there quickly. We don’t want Beaufort Lincoln out hunting you down.”
“You don’t?” Clare calls from the rug. “Because that sounds kinda hot to me!”
Chapter Forty-One
Dray
At a quarter past eight – fifteen minutes after the girl should have arrived at our rooms – the bell at the tower door chimes.
Beaufort left ten minutes ago, angry and on the prowl, quite prepared to drag the little brat here by her pigtails if necessary.
I turn to Thorne, sitting beside me in a straight-backed chair and staring silently into the blazing fire.
“I’m assuming that’s our errant little thrall. Do you want to answer the door?” He doesn’t respond, although his jaw hardens. “I’ll take that as a no,” I say, jumping to my feet. I really thought after his little performance on the field, he would be jumping at the chance to welcome her inside. But he’s back to his usual dismissive, disinterested self.
At the door, I find our little thrall, leaning on the tall, lean boy who is obviously her friend.
“I thought it best I accompany her here,” he blurts out before I even say a word. “She’s drunk.”
I lean against the door. “Is she now?”
“No,” she says, finding it difficult to focus on my face. “I’m not drunk.”
