Page 88 of Taste of Thorns

I roll up to sit, coughing and spluttering as I brush away shards of glass from my shoulders and arms. Miraculously I’mnot cut to shreds. In fact, there doesn’t appear to be a scratch on me.

I find myself in a room similar in size and layout to the Madame’s, although slightly bigger and slightly grander.

There’s a wide oak desk. A bookcase stacked with ancient-looking tomes. A wooden painted globe. And a green leather armchair. On the walls hang grand paintings of the academy and over a stone fireplace a large depiction of dragons in battle, as well as framed certificates and scrolls. A shelf runs along one wall and on it stands trophies of all shapes and sizes.

As well as the dust, there are cobwebs everywhere, dangling from the ceiling, draped over the furniture, suffocating the corners of the room.

I can’t deny it’s eerie as hell. Especially as there appears to be no door out of the room. I search the far wall anyway, particularly in the spot where the door lies in the Madame’s office. I run my palm along the dust-strewn wall. I find nothing.

With a huff of frustration, I turn back to the room.

Why the hell would it have a window but no door? Unless it used to have a door but it was sealed up. If that were the case, it must have been sealed long ago.

I return to the desk. On its surface, buried beneath the thick blanket of dust and cobwebs, rests a brass nameplate. I pick it up and wipe away the grime with the sleeve of my blazer. Letters emerge, engraved into the brass, one at a time until I have a full word.

Headmaster.

I drop the plate back onto the desk and spin around, half expecting to find the elusive head lurking in the shadows of the room, or hidden among the cobwebs sitting in the armchair. But there’s no one here, only me.

Only me in a doorless room, one I don’t fancy hanging around in.

I march back to the window. Jagged glass blocks my exit, but with my blazer pulled down over my hand, I work the pieces of glass loose from the frame and let them fall to the ground. Once the frame is completely clear, I lean out once again. The distance still looks perilous, but examining the stone wall I think I can climb down just like I climbed along, hoping no more of the stone masonry gives way.

With another inhale to steady my nerves and my resolve, I shimmy out of the window and climb carefully down the wall of the building.

This time, I face no difficulties, and eight minutes later my feet hit the ground. I peer back up in the direction I’ve just come. The Madame’s office window remains unlit and the other mysterious window glints in the dull moonlight. The glass has mended and resealed itself. There’s no obvious sign of my recent visit and my footprints will intermingle with all the others out here on the paths around the Great Hall.

I’m so relieved I could sob. Instead, I steal away into the darkness, pretty certain the Madame hasn’t seen me.

Chapter Thirty-One

Beaufort

The days when I went out of my way to track down Henny Smyte are long gone. Most days I’m trying to forget the girl exists and am actively avoiding her. I’m not going to change that. And so I wait until a moment when there’s no choice but to enter into her company.

Combat training.

It’s something the academy has stepped up since that invasion into the realm by the demon forces.

We meet out on the field, the two Titan twins waiting for us, both dressed in matching tracksuits. The bigger, and more ugly, of the two has a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes and his hands resting on his hips. The smaller one swings his whistle round and round his fingers, humming some tuneless melody.

I gaze around the group of shadow weavers and commoner students who have been chosen for this class. It’s the most powerful of us which includes the Hardies and the Smytes. Henny is hanging out towards the back of the group and I’m notsurprised to find her watching me. I frown at her and she tosses her head.

“Pair up,” twin one commands, and, as planned, Dray and Thorne buddy up and I stroll towards Henny. She always pairs up with her sister. I usually find some kid or other. This afternoon her eyes light up as she spots me approaching.

“You wanna pair up?” I ask her, ignoring the slightly frantic look on her sister’s face. I doubt she’s ever been forced to find a different partner before in her whole entire life. She’s always had a handy one right by her side.

Henny does not seem concerned by her sister’s distress. She pushes her violently to one side, stepping forward, delight and madness shining in her eyes.

“I knew you’d ask,” she purrs and I have to force myself not to spin on my toes and march in the opposite direction. Henny’s sister sniffs, tosses her head in the exact same manner her sister did five seconds ago, and marches away to find a partner. “We’ve always been well matched,” Henny adds.

“Spread out,” one of the twins calls out, “and adopt the fighting stance. Remember, no magic. You’re testing your physical fighting skills.”

Henny skips away, finding a spot far away from everyone else. I peer over at my bond brothers and then trek after her. They’re both watching us; Thorne with a frown on his face, Dray with a smug grin.

Henny’s already adopted the fighting pose: one foot forward, both arms raised, knees slightly bent.

“You don’t need to go soft on me, Beau. You can come at me as hard as you like.” She giggles. “I know you like it that way.”