Page 81 of Storm of Shadows

I force myself to step away, ducking my head to release it from his grip and taking his hand in mine instead.

Safer, much safer.

I turn his hand over and examine those grazes, unable to help but let my fingertips trace over them.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Don’t tell me you care,” he says with a smirk.

I drop his hand like it just burned me. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

His tongue wets the slice through his lip.

I can’t imagine anyone being capable of giving Beaufort Lincoln a split lip. He’s far more powerful than anyone else at the academy – or so he and everyone else keeps saying.

I guess I should be happy he’s taken a beating. And yet it has me uneasy.

“But let’s just say,” he says, “that girl won’t be bothering you any longer.”

“What girl?”

He tosses his head. “That little bitch the Hardies have taken as their thrall.”

All the blood rushes to my head. The room spins.

“What did you do?” I say, my words sounding far, far away.

I think of my sister.

Dead.

Killed.

Did they …

“I made sure she wouldn’t hurt you again.” He pauses. “You’re our thrall, Briony, and we will protect you.”

“What did you do?” I repeat. And to think only moments ago, I was softening towards him. But I was right the first time. He’s dangerous. We are nothing to them. “Did you–”

“Hurt her?” His face falls. For the first time, it looks like I may have insulted him. “What do you take us for?”

I stare back at him. What do I take him for? A killer. Someone who would take a life without a second thought. Isn’t that what they’re trained to do?

“You know, I was actually stupid enough to think you’d be grateful,” he growls, turning his back on me and striding over to his bed. “Go home, little thrall.”

I don’t need to be told twice. I’m more than happy to leave. More than happy never to speak to him again.

I’m halfway through the door, when he says, “We didn’t hurt her.”

“You expect me to believe that when your knuckles are grazed and–”

“You don’t know how things work between us shadow weavers.”

“No,” I say, “and I don’t want to.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Briony