Page 27 of Taste of Thorns
“That might have nothing to do with Briony. We’re assuming causation, when it could be correlation.”
I sigh and sink down into the covers.
I was hoping discussing this with my friends would help me achieve clarity. Instead, I’m even more confused.
It looks like I’m going to have to go talk to Fox after all.
Whether Beaufort likes it or not.
Chapter Eight
Fox
I’m preparing for my evening’s hunt, when I sense her presence descending the dungeon staircase.
Automatically, I glance towards the mirror – muscle memory. It’s what I used to do when dating girls was still an option. I mean to straighten out my hair, adjust my cloak, check my teeth for food.
However, as usual, my gaze meets nothing but an empty mirror. No reflection staring back at me. After all this time, it’s still so easy to forget. Still an uncanny shock. A blank mirror where my face should be.
I drag my gaze from the dark pane and step into my classroom, waiting impatiently for the inevitable knock.
“Come in,” I say.
“Hey,” she says, white crystals of snow caught in her hair, her old boots damp, and her hands buried in her oversized coat pockets. “Jeez, it’s cold down here.” She shivers.
“Our kind don’t need warmth,” I explain.
She tilts her head. “Our kind,” she repeats, and I nod. “You know you rarely use the word – vampire. Why is that?”
Because I hate what I am. Hate what I’ve become. Because the very word disgusts me.
I stare back at her and I have a feeling she knows exactly why I can’t bring myself to say the word.
“You know you’re still Fox Tudor. You’re not so very different.”
“I am,” I say. “A lot has happened to me.”
“You’re still exceedingly handsome, Professor.”
I lift an eyebrow. “You think so, do you, Miss Storm?”
She scoffs. “You must have a lot of admirers.”
“I think you are the one with many admirers, Miss Storm. I count myself among them.”
I bend a finger and beckon her closer but she remains right where she is.
“Beaufort thinks I should stay away from you. In fact, he pretty much commanded it.”
“H-h-he said that?” I thought we’d come to an understanding – a reluctant one, probably neither of us is delighted about – but an understanding, nonetheless.
She nods. “I told him that it was the Madame who attacked me in the maze and that you believe that was down to you.”
I shake my head. “I’m beginning to think it’s more complicated than that.”
“Anyway, now both Beaufort and Dray think you’re in cahoots with the Madame – and by extension, the Hardies.”
“The Hardies?”
