Page 164 of Spark of Sorcery
“I can behave.”
I peer over my shoulder at him, catching him in the middle of ogling my ass. “Can you really?”
He grins at me and flops back down on the mattress. “Nope.”
I race into the bathroom, locking the door behind me – not that a locked door would stop Beaufort Lincoln if he wanted to come in – because I don’t want to be late for myfriends today of all days and Beaufort is too much of a distraction.
When I emerge ten minutes later (after a shower that was ten times longer than my usual freezing cold one), I find him sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed in a pair of boxers.
“I made you a coffee.” He points at a steaming mug on the bedside table. “And found all your clothes.”
“Coffee?” I say. Just like chocolate, coffee is prohibitively expensive. We never had any back in Slate and the commoners’ canteen certainly doesn’t serve it. The bitter aroma wafts across the room towards me and tickles my nose.
“Does it taste nice?” I ask wrinkling up my nose as I slide on my panties and hook on my bra.
“Don’t tell me you never had it? I couldn’t live without this stuff.” He picks up the mug and carries it over to me. “Here, try.”
I give it another sniff. “Ewww.”
“Seriously, it’s good stuff and it’ll wake you up better than a bucket of cold water thrown over your head.” I do feel sleepy after that warm shower – and because I spent half of the night fucking Beaufort – although it didn’t feel like fucking last night. It felt much deeper than that. I may even understand why they now call it making love. My cheeks warm at the idea – it sounds so cheesy and yet so true.
He holds the mug to my lips and I take a sip. The taste is dark and bitter, but I like it. I like it a lot, especially the way it has my head buzzing almost immediately. Maybe my taste in hot beverages is not that different from my taste in men.
“Mmmm, actually that is good.”
“Told you,” he says, settling back down on the mattress and watching me dress.
When I’m dressed completely, I tip back the mug and swallow the last remaining dregs, then hand the cup back to Beaufort.
“I guess I’ll see you after the trial.”
He nods and we stare at each other. My heart suddenly feels heavy. What if I never see him again? But I push that thought aside. The Princes are the most powerful shadow weavers in the academy. They will breeze through this trial, whatever it may be.
“Take care of yourself, Briony Storm,” he tells me.
“Likewise, Beaufort Lincoln,” I tell him back.
Waiting for me in the hallway by the front door, I find Dray and Thorne.
“You’re up early,” I say, trying my best to sound bright and breezy, hoping if I fake it I’ll eventually feel it.
“Didn’t want to miss you, Kitten,” Dray says, before stepping forward and wrapping me in one massive, tight hug, burying his nose in my neck and taking a deep inhale. “You be careful, okay?”
“I will,” I say, hugging him back.
When he finally releases me, I peer up at Thorne. His features are blank and emotionless as always but he holds my gaze in his.
“Remember, what I said, Briony.”
“You too,” I whisper and then because I can’t stand this anymore, I rush out of the door and walk quickly back to my tower. I don’t like this sense of doom. It makes no sense. Do I just feel this way because I have more to lose this time round, more I hold dear?
I try not to think about it as I change into my gray tracksuit – repaired and patched up by Fly. Instead, I try my bestto go over everything we’ve been learning and reading instead. Even before Thorne helped me in the maze, I was doing well. I had a plan. And though I arrived last at the academy in the very first trial, I was one of the few commoners who didn’t receive a beating. I can do this. I’m sure I can.
Once I’m dressed, I go knock for Fly and we climb down the tower steps silently, my friend slipping his arm through mine as we walk across to the canteen.
Clare is waiting for us at our usual table, an untouched bowl of porridge laid out in front of her.
“How you doing, Clare Bear?” Fly asks her as he takes his seat.
