Page 95 of Taste of Thorns
“No.” I’d forgotten that, as much as this room excites me, as much as I love all the links to the old legends and our ancient ancestry, this room and its contents give me the creeps. Thereare objects laced with dark magic in here too, including those nunchucks. I don’t like the way they make me feel.
She swings the weapons around carelessly as she walks back to the display cabinet where she found them and slides them back into place.
“That’s enough,” I tell her, “time to go.”
The dark magic is prickling at my skin, tempting me like the Thunderstrike sword and I don’t want it penetrating my skin and infecting my mood.
“If you say so,” Henny says, a little too willingly, strolling towards the door.
“Henny,” I tell her, blocking her path, my hands raised ready. “Empty your pockets.”
“Why?” she says innocently.
“You know why.”
She scowls at me and pulls a small boot knife from her pocket.
“And the other one?”
She scowls hard and slides a coiled whip from the other.
“Nice attempt,” I say flatly.
“You can’t blame me for trying,” she says with a shrug.
When we’re out of the room and out of earshot of the guards, I take a grip of her upper arm.
“Right you got what you wanted. Now your turn to deliver on your part of the bargain. What the hell is going on, Henny?”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Briony
After my rendezvous with Fox, I arrive late to dinner and as I pull out my chair and sit down between Fly and Clare, I know immediately that something is up. Fly is worrying at his lip and Clare is staring down at her food and not meeting my eye.
When I glance around the canteen, I can see Odessa’s old gang grinning like hyenas and Stanley Chandlers looking just as satisfied. Yep, something is definitely wrong.
Ice worms its way down my spine and settles in my stomach. Messing around with Fox just now may have been fun, but it may also have been incredibly stupid. Did someone hear or see us together after all?
“Okay,” I say, squaring my shoulders. “Hit me with whatever it is.”
“You haven’t heard then?” Fly says, his brow creased with worry.
“No,” I say, “and I’m not going to like it, whatever it is, am I?”
Fly leans back in his chair and grimaces.
“Everyone’s saying that Beaufort and Henrietta hooked up in the middle of combat training this afternoon.”
I laugh. Beaufort and Henrietta? No way.
But when Fly’s face doesn’t crack with humor, I realize this isn’t some kind of silly joke.
I frown. “What do you mean by ‘hooked-up’?” I say.
“They were making out,” Clare says quietly. “Everyone’s saying they got back together.”
I stare at my friends in disbelief, then shake my head. “Everyone must be mistaken.” I pick up my fork and shove a piece of pasta into my mouth, chewing aggressively as Fly and Clare exchange glances. “Oh, come on,” I say, “you know what the rumors are like in this place. And,” I lean forward, “you also know he is my fated mate.”
