Page 60 of Spark of Sorcery
“You’re more than just a thrall to us, Briony.” The way he says my name makes butterflies in my stomach flutter about. “You’re our mate.”
That word again.
“I don’t know what that means,” I say in frustration.
Behind us the clock tower bell clangs and there are other students out on the path, their voices carrying over the distance, some passing along the path that skims the field.
Thorne looks out towards them.
“Ask Beaufort,” he says with annoyance, and then he strides away, being careful to leave a wide berth around me.
“Thorne,” I call after him. “Wait.”
He stops and peers over his shoulder at me.
“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you for helping me.”
“I’d do anything for you,” he says, and then he’s walking away again, leaving me utterly gobsmacked and thoroughly confused.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Briony
Mate –what the hell does that mean?
Despite what everybody at the academy seems to believe, us Slate kids did receive some sort of education. I’m not dumb. I can read. I can write. I even know my twelve times table.
I understand the definition of the word mate. Partner – more specifically a sexual partner. Is that what everyone is referring to? Maybe some thralls don’t sleep with their protectors – they’re too busy cutting their toenails for them or changing their sheets. Maybe only thralls who satisfy their protectors in other ways earn this title. It’s just, the way they are all talking about it makes me think there is another different, alternative meaning I’m not party to. Just like firestones, another thing I don’t understand.
I could ask my friends. I could even ask Beaufort himself.But I’m fed up with being the ignorant one. Knowledge is power and right now everyone else appears to be in a much more powerful position than me. I want to be better armed.
Later that evening, I make my way to the library, hoping with every bone in my body that there are no romantic rendezvous happening in there tonight. Also hoping the library doesn’t still hate my guts.
The building is dark when I arrive and silent as I step inside. I peer into the gloom and take a deep inhale.
“Good evening, Library,” I announce, feeling just as silly as last time talking into an empty room. “I know it’s late and I’m very sorry to disturb you, but I was hoping you might be able to help me.”
Above me the grand chandelier flickers on and bathes the library in a warm, welcoming light. I take that as a good sign and continue.
“I need to find out about mates.” The chandelier spins on its chain and the books vibrate on the shelves. The library is listening to me. “You see, I’m sort of in this relationship with these guys.” I tuck loose hair behind my ear and shift from one foot to the next. “They picked me out as their thrall, but now it seems there is more to it than I first thought. They keep referring to me as their mate and I really need to understand what the hell that means.”
The chandelier flickers on and off above my head and I have the distinct suspicion that the library is going to turf me out. Maybe my request wasn’t intellectual enough.
But then a book comes hurtling over the shelves. It lands with a thump on the polished floor and skids across it, crashing right into my toes.
I stare down at it dumbfounded, as the coverflops open and the pages flip over, halting suddenly. I wait a moment and when nothing more happens, I crouch down and cautiously scoop the book up into my arms.
At the top of the page is a title embossed in gold.
Fated mates.
I drop down onto my backside, legs crossed and settle the book into my lap. Then I get to reading, devouring everything I can find on the topic in this book.
When I’m done my mind is spinning. It’s answered a lot of questions and given me a whole heap more.
Fated mates – couples, throuples and even quadruples brought together and bound together by destiny. Their connection intense, irresistible and often unbreakable.
Do the princes truly believe I am their mate? Do they feel such a connection?
