Page 23 of Taste of Thorns
But the snow swirls around her cold form and her magic prickles against my skin.
“Students are instructed to sleep in their designated rooms while here at the academy, Miss Storm.” Her smile, as always, is calculated and self-satisfied. “You were not in your own room last night.” She’s dressed in a thick woolen cloak, the hood pulled up over her head, her hands hidden in a black fur muff, and her feet encased in boots that appear to be lined with the same animal fur.
I bet she killed and skinned the animal herself. The way she’s looking at me, makes me think she’d do the same to me if she could.
“I spent the night at the Princes’ tower,” I say plainly without apology.
I am not frightened of her, despite what she did to me and despite everyone’s suspicions that she's trying to harm me. I know the promise Thorne conjured with his magic will keep me safe – for now at least. And apparently I have magic of my own – if only I could work out how to use it.
She lifts a carefully manicured brow.
“I am their thrall,” I remind her.
“Yes, I am aware. That doesn’t give youcarte blancheto disregard this academy’s rules.” I wait for her to tell me I’ll be spending my day off scrubbing floors. Instead, she lifts her chin. “Please come with me to my office.”
I peer behind me. There’s no one out here. The new sensation in my veins tingles with awareness. I may not be afraid but I’m not stupid either. I don’t like the idea of accompanying Madame to her office. This is the woman who tortured me with lightning. Thorne’s magic might stop her from doing that again, but I’m sure she’ll find other ways to hurt me if I let her. Plus, Beaufort seemed to suggest that promise would end eventually.
“Erm,” I say, hesitating.
“Miss Storm, I think it’s about time you and I had another little chat.”
“Seeing as the last time we had a little chat, you tried to kill me, I’d rather talk with witnesses around,” I say.
“Kill you? You really do have a ridiculously perverse imagination.” She sighs. “I suppose it can’t be helped given where you’re from.”
“We both know I didn’t imagine you torturing me with lightning.”
“Miss Storm,” she says with annoyance. “I’m sorry if I gave you the impression this was a request because it wasn’t.” She looks me dead in the eyes. “Come with me.”
“No,” I say, lifting my chin, realizing how similar she is to Muriel.
Both bitter, lonely women who get a kick out of hurting others.
“Ahhh,” she says. “You think because you’re the Princes’ whore, you’re somehow special. You poor naïve little thing.” She laughs, the sound brittle in the cold air. “I’ve seen so many of you thralls come and go. Cherished one moment, discarded the next. Do you know how they treat thrall whores back in Slate Quarter, Miss Storm?”
“I’m not going back to Slate,” I say, defiantly. I don’t know why I say it. I’m not deluded. Haven’t I known right from the start that Slate is where they are going to send me? Yet, assoon as the words leave my mouth, I determine I’m going to make them the truth. I’m not going back there. No matter what happens, I won’t be going back.
“Oh you poor deluded soul. Is that what they’ve promised you? Men will say anything to get inside your panties. They’ll make all sorts of ludicrous promises.”
“I’m not reliant on the Princes. I’ll be going to one of the other Quarters based on my own merits.” I lift my chin. The snow is seeping through my coat, chilling my bones, although somehow the Madame’s appears completely dry. “I aced that last trial and you know it.”
“Yes,” she says, “I do. It’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Miss Storm. You secured maximum points.”
“What? I … I haven’t seen the points board yet. I had no idea.”
“In fact, you placed aboveallthe shadow weavers. A feat that has never before been achieved by a commoner.”
“What?” I repeat, just as eloquently as before.
Me?Iplaced top of the year. Above Beaufort with his snakes and Dray with his ghosts. That doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t sound right at all. And once against my blood tingles with awareness.
“Tell me, Miss Storm, how the hell is that possible?” She narrows her eyes. “Unless you were helped again.”
I jolt, something I’m sure she spots. “I received no help.”
She steps closer, her boots sinking into the snow. “Was it Fox? I don’t know what that man has told you, but none of it is true.”
“If you don’t know what he’s told me, then how do you know if it is true or not?”
