Page 58 of Storm of Shadows

And I’m bored with this now. I’m done with arguing.

Right on time, there’s another knock on the door. This one is more firm. I keep my eyes trained on her face as hers slides in that direction. We hear footsteps, the door open and voices.

Then Dray calls out for me from the hallway.

“Beaufort?” He comes to stand in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe chewing gum, Thorne right behind him. They both peer at the girl. A wolfish grin spreads across Dray’s face, while Thorne just glares at her with a disdain.

It’s clear while Dray is coming round to the idea of the girl, Thorne is not. He turns his head away and walks right out of the kitchen without saying a word.

She scowls at his retreating back and Dray winks at her, then turns to me. “Are you coming?”

I push back my chair and stand up.

“We have guests,” I tell her. “I’m going to go and be with them now. And you can stay here.”

“You’re leaving me here?” she says with a little outrage. “You forced me to come over here and now you’re leaving?”

“Funny,” Dray says, “I thought she’d be pleased.”

“I … I am,” she mutters. “And I’m going back to my room.”

She starts to stand up and I push her back down into her seat. “No, you’re staying here until we return.”

“In the kitchen? While you hang out with your friends? Erm, no!”

“Now,” I say, “if you were a thrall, we’d invite you to join us, but as you’re not …”

“I’m not staying here.”

“You are,” I wave my hand through the air, weaving shadows around the room that will keep her here and then I walk to the doorway.

“You’re such an asshole,” she snarls

“Ahh, you have no fucking idea, little one,” Dray says, blowing a bubble with his gum that bursts with a bang. “Make yourself at home.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Briony

The door slams behind them and then I’m alone in the kitchen. Okay, it’s a really nice kitchen. The nicest kitchen I’ve ever been in. Possibly one of the nicest rooms I’ve ever been in full stop – glistening marble worktops, expensive-looking gadgets and polished floor.

It doesn’t really matter. I’m still locked in.

Or so they say, anyway. I decide it’s best to check. I walk to the door and try the handle. It’s locked and a thin wisp of shadow curls around my wrist, making my skin tingle with pleasure. I shake my arm, trying to detract it, but it only slides further up my arm.

I swipe at it with my other hand, trying to dislodge it. My fingers simply float straight through the misty shadow.

I jump away from the door, shaking my arm more violently and the shadow slides down my arm and glides back towards the door.

“Asshole,” I mutter, assuming the window will be guarded in the same way.

I’m guessing this is punishment for not playing along. If it is, it’s a pretty pathetic punishment. Nothing compared to the ones doled out by Muriel. It still sucks. My room may be dingy, cold and damp compared to this room but at least I have Fly across the hallway to talk to, plus a book to read and I can keep guard of the package hidden in my wardrobe. All I have in here is kitchen gadgets and food.

Food!

I swing my gaze around, finding a small larder door at the back of the room. As I stalk that way, I hear laughter and voices radiating from elsewhere in this tower – a tower that these three men have all to themselves.

As I pull back the door, I find a small room laden with food – so much food it has my stomach aching and my eyes watering. This is too much for three people – even three very large people who must burn through food at a rate of knots. I think of how little fills the meager pantry back at my home in Slate Quarter and for a moment I have the desire to smash this all up. However, my stomach rumbles in protest at that idea and I decide I’ll have myself a little feast instead. May as well make the best of this situation while I can and I did skip dinner.