Page 160 of Spark of Sorcery
“You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Well,” she says, shifting on her toes. “I do. Actually, I worry about you a lot. And it isn’t just the guilt I’d have to endure that makes me say I don’t want you to be banished,” she smiles at me teasingly, “I don’t want you banished because I’d miss you.”
I can’t help but snort at that. No one has ever missed me. There’s no one left. Only my bond brothers. And they simply endure me.
“Thorne,” she says, more softly and with no more teasing, “I’m serious. You’re important to me. And I don’t want to lose you.”
I stare at her, wondering how exactly I am important to her. Because I’m useful? Strong? Powerful? Or could she possibly mean … I shake my head.
“Briony, you already forced me to make one promise I’m unhappy about. I won’t make another. If I can help you, I will and there is nothing you can say that will dissuade me.”
She examines my hard features and then sighs.
“I’d better make sure I don’t land myself in any trouble then, so that you won’t have to help me.” She starts walking again. “Do you have any idea what this trial could be?” I shake my head. “No, me neither. Clare’s had us studying loads. Researching as much as we can but none of us has a hunch about this one. Still,” she inhales and straightens her shoulders, “I feel prepared.”
“Good,” I say, although that unease still lingers in my gut.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Fox
The knock on my door is not unexpected. The question is, which of the Princes have come to see me?
“Enter,” I say, watching as the door draws back and I find Beaufort Lincoln standing in the doorway.
He ducks inside, eyes scanning the darkened classroom, finding me, sitting at my desk.
“You’re here to ask me if I will keep an eye on her,” I say.
“It’s your job to hook kids out of the trial if they’re in danger.”
“Last time, yes. This time, no.”
He frowns. “Why?”
“That compensation is reserved for the early trials. To give the … less able students a chance to gain their stride before things get more difficult.”
“So there’ll be no help this time?”
I shake my head.
“Fuck,” he says, running his hands through his dark hair.
“Can’t you get her to wear that damned collar?” I say, appreciating how hypocritical I’m being, because I, right from the start, have loathed the idea of her wearing one.
“What do you think?” he says, pacing. “Besides, I wonder how effective those things are anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just something Briony said,” he mutters, “about hitting the Hardies’ little bitch while she was wearing her collar.”
“That shouldn’t be possible.”
“Yeah, maybe she misunderstood.” He glances around the classroom, then back to me. “What do we do?” he says. “How do we keep her safe?”
“If you’re worried about her being attacked again, I’ve dealt with that. It won’t happen.”
“I’m worried about her getting hurt in the trial,” he says.
