It’s important that I study, but my thoughts have been running rampant. Frustratingly, very few of them are focused on the work Ishouldbe doing. Lambert’s suggestion has beenwinding through my mind like a disease. Now, every time Kyrith brushes past me while we’re studying or leans over my shoulder, invading my space with that cool, composed voice and her icy lily scent, I can’t help but think…maybe…
“It isnae like that,” I tell her, tugging my jumper on. “I’ve made my interest clear?—”
“And what did she say?”
“What?”
“When you told her you wanted to go out with her?”
My cheeks burn as I think back to the moment I asked her to stay after she blew my mind with the best—and weirdest—hand job of my life.
“She…ran away.”
“Oh, that definitely means she likes you.” Hazel nods sagely. “You should bring her flowers. But not roses. They’re cliché.”
I buckle my grimoire holster at my waist and pin her with a look. “Why don’t you focus on helping Rory learn to win a woman, rather than meddling with my love life?”
“Because Rory’s a lost cause, duh.”
Ugh. I cannae keep up. “I thought you liked him?”
“Aye, but no boys are gonnae ask me out while I have bodyguards following me everywhere.”
I grimace. Pierce’s warning rings in my skull. The Carltons will use anyone they can against me. Hazel included. I just wish he’d told me why.
“It’s for your own protection. Pierce said?—”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m in danger.” She lets out a big huff. “And why do you believe the Carlton heir, anyway? Wasn’t it his family that kidnapped you?”
I don’t know why. Every time I think too hard about it, my head splits open. I get flashes every now and again; moments that don’t make sense, but which must be part of my captivity.
One of them in particular plays over and over.
Pierce, clutching the bars of my cell and resting his head against them, eyes closed and…sad.
An ice pick stabs into my temple, and my throat closes over as I work to conceal the pain from my sister’s too-perceptive gaze. I havenae told Kyrith, but I’ve had two more seizures since I returned home. The first, when Halinor questioned me about what happened on the day I was taken, and the second when my cousins taunted me into fencing them at the gym—which made no sense.
“It’s always best to be careful,” I reply eventually. “Now, I’ve got to go.”
“You’re hours early for the game,” she protests.
My hand brushes the lump in my pocket for reassurance. Still there. Grand. I still cannae believe I didnae think to get Kyrith a Christmas present. Though, to be fair, I couldnae exactly go out and just buy one while I was claiming Sanctuary. Fortunately, I managed to sneak down to Kirkwall yesterday and grab something.
What if it’s too late for presents? What about her birthday? I never even thought to ask… Wait, does she know when she was born? Did they celebrate birthdays in Tudor England? I snatch my phone up from my desk, running a search.
They celebrated saints’ days? What’s Kyrith’s saint’s day? A quick search for that yields no answers either.
“You’re scared!” Hazel realises.
“No,” I immediately lie, then wince. “A wee bit, maybe. But I’ll get over it…” Aware that my cheeks are heating more and more by the second, I turn my back on her, knocking on my bedroom door. “Ad Arcanaeum.”
It swings open, hitting me with the scent of books, and I hesitate again.
Usually, the Arcanaeum admits me through one of the halls or the Rotunda. Never Kyrith’s stairwell.
Is this some kind of invitation? Am Isupposedto be here?
Hazel, unaware of the reason for my lingering on the doorstep, sneaks up behind me and pushes me through.
