Page 137 of Storm of Shadows

“Hey Cupcake, how did you …” Fly trails off, spotting my tear-stained face. “What’s wrong?”

I’ve been dreading this moment. I hoped I could pretend like nothing had happened. But Fly is far too observant for that. What exactly am I going to tell them and what am I going to keep to myself? I’ve already made the mistake of divulging my secret tonight. Can I truly trust my friends?

“Hmmm,” I say, contemplating this dilemma.

“Cupcake, you’re scaring me. Did something happen?”

I sigh, finding it hard to meet his eyes. “I couldn’t sleep last night–”

“Me neither,” Clare says.

“–so I went to see Beaufort Lincoln.”

“Ooooh!” Fly says.

Clare adjusts her glasses and examines my face. “There’s more isn’t there?”

I fidget on the floor. “Well, yes … Beaufort and I slept together.”

“Slept together as in the same bed or slept together slept together?” Fly asks.

“We had sex on his desk.”

Clare’s mouth falls open and relief floods over Fly’s face before he rocks backwards and kicks his feet against the floor.

“Oh my gosh!” he squeals.

“Was it good?” Clare asks.

“Don’t be stupid. It was Beaufort Lincoln. Of course it was good. She’s just full of the usual good-girl guilts,” Fly dismisses, then sees the expression on my face and adds: “It was good, right?”

“Yeeeeessss,” I say, “but then we had this massive fight right after, where he revealed just what an asshole he is.”

“Isn’t that how your budding relationship goes? You fight, you make up, you fight again.”

“This was a big one. It’s over between us. I don’t care what they say or do, I don’t want anything more to do with any of them.”

“Oh,” Fly says, all the joy on his face quickly evaporating.

“What was it about?” Clare asks.

“Huh?”

“The fight. What was it about?”

“My sister,” I say.

They both gape at me blankly. “You had a massive blow up about your sister?” Fly says.

“Did I know you had a sister?” Clare asks, straightening her glasses again.

I stare at my two friends and weigh up the decision in my mind. I’ve known them for only three weeks and what do I really know? Yet, I trust them. I trust them to have my back.

“I don’t anymore. She died. Here at the academy.”

“Oh my gosh,” Fly repeats, this time with sympathy. “Bri– I had no idea.” He shakes his head. “You never said anything.”

I drop my gaze to my lap, my notebook resting on my thighs; I straighten the loose pages escaping the cover.