This is not usual Henrietta behavior. Usually she’s firing insults – or worse, firing shadows – at me. I’ve never seen her silent like this, as if she has something to say but can’t quite find the words.
She turns off the tap, shakes her hands, and picks up one of the fluffy little towels waiting beside the basin, drying her hands with it. I notice this evening she wears several sparkly, expensive-looking rings on her long, bony fingers.
“I...” she says, then stops, coughs, and starts again, “I understand I have you to thank.”
I’m so amazed by this sentence I’m very nearly knocked right off my not-very-steady heels.
“Because ... me?” I squeak in obvious surprise.
“Hmm,” Henrietta says, her voice so quiet it’s difficult to hear her, her eyes focused solely on her hands. She’s not making eye contact at all. “Yes. My sister. I understand you… well, you–”
“Saved her from the demons in the trial?” I add helpfully.
“Yes. That,” she says rather reluctantly. “I don’t like you Briony Storm–”
“Yeah, you made that pretty clear.”
“And I don’t think you belong with Beaufort Lincoln.” I shrug. “But I am grateful that you kept my sister safe.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’m sure, if she could, she would have done the same thing for me.”
Henrietta’s eyes leap upward and our gazes connect in the mirror. For a moment, we just stare at each other, an understanding seeming to pass between us.
Then that moment passes.
“If you tell anyone …” she says in a voice so deadly I’m left with no doubt how deeply she cares for her twin.
“I won’t,” I say. “I never would.”
She nods. “Good.”
“But Henrietta,” I whisper, “it’s only a matter of time until she’s found out!” And while I won’t be the one to snitch on Linette Smyte, I can’t help feeling that it’s only fair that she is. We all have to abide by the shitty rules, don’t we? If Linny doesn’t have powers, she doesn’t belong in Onyx Quarter.
Henny snorts. “You think she’s the only one?”
I stare at her in disbelief. “Wh … what do you mean?”
“You’re so naïve,” she says tossing her hair in that usually arrogant manner, “there are plenty of shadow weavers hiding the fact they have no powers.”
I wonder if that’s true or just another of her crazy delusions. The Princes clearly thought it was impossible.
“Then they shouldn’t be here,” I say with a scowl.
“And I suppose you think you should,” she says with amusement, “given your … powers?”
We both glance down at my hands. “Where did you get them from?”
I laugh. “Fuck if I know,” I say.
“Your parents were ordinaries?” I nod. “You’re sure about that?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Oh yeah. Absolutely. One hundred percent.”
“Your mother wasn’t …” She smirks.
“No,” I say with absolute certainty. Once upon a time my parents were madly in love. It’s why my dad fell apart so dramatically after she died.
“Then ...” Henrietta says, leaning even closer to me, “let me give you this little warning, Briony Storm. And then we’ll be equal. All quits.”
