Page 86 of Spark of Sorcery
I’m disappointed. I wanted her to be a little more pained by the separation. Because I am. I don’t want to leave her. Especially in this damn place.
“You could be a little more disappointed, sweetheart,” I snipe.
“Why? You’re coming back, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I say, even though that’s not guaranteed. Nothing is, after all. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t worry about you while we’re away.”And miss you. Fuck, I’m going to miss you.
“I can look after–”
“Yeah, I think we’ve established that you can’t.” She scowls at me, but doesn’t argue. The evidence is stacked against her and she knows it. “Promise you won’t do anything stupid while we’re away.”
“I didn’t do anything stupid before. It’s not my fault people want to kill me.”
“Who wants to kill you?” I growl.
“It’s just a figure of speech,” she dismisses.
“Just … don’t go poking into stuff about your sister while we’re not here.”
“Why?” she says, eyes narrowing.
“Because it could be dangerous.”
“And why, Beaufort Lincoln, would it be dangerous? Her death was an accident, remember?”
I look her right in the eye. “And if it wasn’t, if you are right and someone deliberately killed your sister, then who’s to say they won’t come for you too.”
Her mouth falls open and she stares back at me in disbelief. “You believe me.”
“I’m saying it could be a possibility. One I will help you look into.Whenwe return.”
She smiles at me, her entire face brightening. It’s been a long while since she last smiled at me. She looks so damn pretty when she smiles. I prefer it to the scowls.
“I can’t promise you,” she says. “If something comes up, I won’t be able to help but–”
“How did I know you’d say that,” I mutter, shaking my head. The girl is damn infuriating. Whenever I’m with her, it’s like being inside a whirlwind, rattled and shaken so hard your brain bounces around inside your skull. I hold her gaze. “I guessIknow you well.”
She takes the final bite of scallop, licking her lips when she finishes it.
“Of course, I wouldn’t have to worry about your safety, if you just wore this.” I pull the golden collar from my pocket, lay it on the tabletop and slide it towards her.
She examines it with a mixture of disgust and interest.
“You know I’m never going to wear it.”
“And you know I’ll never understand why. It will protect you, Briony. Keep you safe.”
She reaches out and strokes her finger along the fine silk.
“If it’s the color,” I say, “if it’s too showy. If it’s not showy enough–”
“It’s what it represents.” She turns it over in her hands. “Couldn’t it be a bracelet or a belt or something?”
“It wouldn’t be as visible. It wouldn’t act as a deterrent.”
“Deterrent?” She tosses the choker back on the table. “Do they even work?”
“Yes.”
