Page 42 of Taste of Thorns

Fly goes to fetch some water and soap and we set to work attempting to remove the paint from my door. However, as hard as we scrub, the bright red letters remain in place.

“What the hell did they use?” Fly says.

“Some kind of magic?” I venture.

“Or the blood of ten virgins sacrificed under the full moon,” Fly mutters, throwing down his cloth in frustration. “Okay, well, if we can’t remove it, we’re going to jazz it up.”

“Do we have time?” I say, my stomach rumbling for breakfast.

“Not now, we’ll tackle it after dinner tonight.” He taps his fingers against his mouth, considering my door. “I’ll need to swipe some supplies.”

“Oh-kay,” I say, wondering what the hell he has planned.

It must be something big, and getting bigger by the moment, because he’s totally lost in thought all the way through breakfast and on our walk over to lessons. Although we don’t reach the classroom, instead we find everyone gathered on the paths. Clare pushes her way through the crowd to find us.

“What’s going on?” I ask her.

“The Madame’s canceled lessons for this morning and she’s sending us all out to pick ice mushrooms instead.” I look at her blankly as she adjusts her glasses. “Apparently they’re really useful for brewing potions, they only sprout after snowfall and they don’t last for long so she wants us gathering as many as we can while they’re here.”

I peer around the group of gathered students. Someone is handing out baskets to all the Iron, Granite, and Slate kids.

“Where are the shadow weavers?” I ask.

“Not required to undertake manual labor obviously,” Fly mutters, as he turns the basket over in his hands. “This is so not me.”

“You’re gonna have to suck it up,” I tell him, hooking my basket over my arm, and turning towards the Titan twins who are trumpeting on their whistles.

“You have an hour and a half to gather as many ice mushrooms as you can. They can be found by digging in the snow,” the larger of the twins says. Fly mutters under his breath, flipping up the collar of his jacket. “You must return here with your pickings. Students with a less-than-satisfactory crop will be penalized.”

“Great!” Fly says, peering down at the snow like it might bite him.

“You don’t like snow?” I ask him.

“It’s cold and wet. What’s there to like about it?”

“It’s pretty,” Clare tells him. She looks across the group of students. “Would you mind if Damian came and picked mushrooms with us?”

“Do you mind if we interrogate him senseless?” I ask her.

“No, that sounds kind of amusing.”

“Then go,” Fly says, giving her a little push. “Go get your boy. Stars know, we’re going to need some amusement.”

Once Clare has collected Damian and he’s said hi to me and Fly rather shyly, we follow Clare out towards the forest.

“There’ll be more ice mushrooms at the edge of the trees,” she explains.

Clare takes Damian’s hand in hers and they lead the way, talking and laughing together quietly.

“They really are adorably sweet,” I whisper to Fly.

“If you like that kind of thing.”

I elbow him. “Oh come on.”

“Okay, yes, they are very sweet.”

“I can’t imagine holding hands with Dray or Beaufort that way.” I sigh.