Page 131 of Storm of Shadows

I stand there dumbfounded as the door swings back and the dark hallway comes into view.

Do the Princes leave their tower unlocked? Or … did the door open specifically for me?

I’m not sure how I feel about that. Flattered maybe? Another strange new sensation to add to my collection.

I step inside, closing the door quietly behind me as I slip off my boots and tiptoe up the staircase.

This is extremely, one hundred percent stupid and possibly deadly. If Beaufort, Dray or Thorne catch an intruder in their tower, they will probably shoot first, ask questions later. I was worried about dying or being injured in the trial, I am just as likely to be killed or hurt climbing their stairs. I keep climbing though. I’m committed now.

No turning back.

As I step out onto the landing, I find my suspicions were correct. Beaufort Lincoln is not sleeping in his bed. Beaufort Lincoln is once again sitting in his study. Beaufort Lincoln is staring right at me.

Chapter Fifty-Six

Beaufort

“I … I couldn’t sleep,” she says.

I crook my finger and beckon her. Her hand rests on the banister. She doesn’t move.

“You’re worried about the trial.”

She nods.

“Come here,” I command and she stays where she is.

“Little thrall,” I whisper, “you wanted to see me.” She bites at her lip. She’s always fighting this connection. But I’m no fool. I know now that she feels it. That she’s finding it as hard as I am to resist. “So come here and see me.” She creeps into my study like a shy little rabbit, stopping by my desk and leaning her hip against it. I can’t help myself. I swivel my chair around to face her, taking a grip of her thighs and pulling her towards me.

This time, she comes willingly, a flush on her cheeks and something in her eyes leading me to believe there’s more than her fears about the trial on her mind. In fact, I believe she’s come here seeking distraction from those fears.

“Do you always work this late?” she asks, as I draw my hands up her legs and squeeze her ass through the material of her sleep pants.

“I find it hard to sleep. I have a lot on my mind.”

“You’re a shadow weaver, what could you possibly have on your mind?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Have you ever had to worry if you’ll have enough money to buy food for the next week? Have you ever worried there’ll be no food left in the cupboard come tomorrow? Have you ever had to worry they’ll take your home away?”

“No,” I say, I dip my head to meet her gaze. “But I take it you have.”

She nibbles at her lip and, shit, I want to do that. “Yes.”

“Not anymore,” I say.

She opens her mouth to say something, then changes her mind, meeting my gaze with her own instead.

“Tell me what you’re worried about, little one.”

She rolls her eyes. “Everything. I don’t have powers like you. I may not make it out.”

“You will,” I say confidently.

“You don’t know that for sure. Every year, students end up–”

“It won’t happen to you,” I say, that vision flickering in my mind.