He steps in front of me, blocking my path, and points to the small clock that sits above the fireplace.
“Briony, it’s the middle of the damn night.”
I glance towards the clock face. He’s right. I had no idea. I’d completely lost track of all time with everything that’s happened. It seems like only yesterday I was facing Madame in the trial, fighting demons in the grotto. So much has happened since that point. My visit to the palace, the state banquet, our flight out to the border, our battle through the demon realm, finding Fox at Crow’s Fort and having to smash our way back into our own realm. Everything has happened so quickly.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, shaking my head. “I still need to find them.”
“Briony. You go waking them up in the middle of the night, you’re going to give them a heart attack. Besides which, it’ll be easier to move among the other students when school is in progress.”
“You think there are soldiers out there now, watching the pathways?”
He nods solemnly. “It’s what I would do,” he says, “if I was in charge.”
“So we wait until morning.” I nod. I’m slowly learning to be patient, as hard as it is.
The Professor steps towards me and rests his hands on my shoulders. His touch, once again, no longer icy cold.
“Get some rest now,” he says. “When was the last time you slept in a bed?”
I peer towards the Professor’s bed. It’s not as narrow or as uncomfortable as the bed I had in my room in the Academy Tower, but it’s no prince’s bed, certainly nothing like the bed in the palace. It’s a single, and the nights I’ve spent with the Professor – the rare chances I had to spend the night – it was a squash to fit the both of us in, particularly considering the Professor’s impressive size. Still, it was infinitely more comfortable than anything I ever slept on back in Slate Quarter, and the comfortableness of the bed is definitely increased by the man I’ve shared it with.
Our eyes are fixed on each other as we strip off our clothes, and soon my heart is beating more rapidly in my chest and my skin is flushed with desire. Fox no longer has the hollow, sunken cheeks of a starving man or the withered frame. He looks just like he’d always done. Strong. Handsome. Beautiful.
We race towards the bed, the stone cold on the soles of my feet, and snuggle under the covers together.
“You still cold, sweetheart?” he asks, attempting to wriggle away from me, knowing his body is usually like sleeping with a block of ice.
I scamper after him, snuggling up to him and resting my cheek against his chest, maneuvering his arm to tuck around me.
“I’m not cold,” I say. “And Professor?—”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Neither are you.”
He peers down at me with a quizzical look on his face.
“Don’t you feel it?” I ask him. “There’s some warmth to your skin, to your blood. It’s nothing like a normal person’s – like mine or Beaufort’s, or even Dray’s – but you aren’t stony cold like you used to be.”
“Really?” he says.
“You don’t feel it?”
“Maybe. Perhaps. I thought I was imagining it.”
“What can it mean?”
“You, Briony. Your blood in my veins.”
I shake my head. “Every creature you’ve fed from, Professor, has been warm-blooded – unless you’ve been feeding off lizards and snakes.”
His lip curls. “No,” he says. “I haven’t.”
“I’m no different from the deer,” I say.
“No different?” he says, laughing, his whole face brightening in a smile that has my heart skipping. “You’re completely different, Briony. You’re one of a kind. A lumomancer.”
“Hmmm,” I say.
