Maybe if I’d worn the collar, the thing between me and Fox would never have started. Maybe if I’d worn the collar – if I’d been a compliant, submissive kind of thrall – things would never have worked between me, Beaufort, Dray, and Thorne. Maybe they would have tired of me.
The thrall’s collar is made from the finest golden threads, woven together in an intricate pattern, and I have to admit it is beautiful, just like the collar Beaufort offered me again and again. Part of me wonders if now Icouldwear it. Everyone knows that I belong to them. In return, they belong to me.
“Are Henrietta and Lynette here?” Beaufort asks, not bothering with any niceties.
The boy nods, hesitates, then beckons us inside, shutting the door behind us.
“I’ll go fetch them,” he says. His voice is deep and assertive – not nearly as submissive as I expected. He strolls down the hallway as if he owns the place.
I stand there examining the décor. The layout is similar to the Princes’ Tower – from what I can tell of the ground floor anyway – but the decoration is far more gaudy, elaborate, and excessive. There’s a sparkling chandelier hanging from the ceiling and gold wallpaper lining the walls. The floorboards beneath our feet are so shiny they reflect our images back at us.
We wait so long that Beaufort starts to grow agitated, a frown marking his brow as he mutters under his breath. He’s on the verge of marching through the tower in search of the Smyte twins when we hear footsteps on the staircase, and then the twins’ thrall is returning without them.
“You can come on up to Henrietta’s bedroom,” he announces.
Beaufort steps forward as if he’s going to accept that invitation, but over my dead body.
“It’s okay,” I say firmly. “We’re happy to meet downstairs. We wouldn’t want to intrude on her privacy.”
Beaufort looks at me and smirks, and I scowl, knowing exactly what he’s thinking. But there is no way in hell I’m letting him walk into Henrietta’s bedroom. He’d probably find her sprawled out naked, handcuffed to the bed-frame. Yeah, no way.
The thrall disappears again, and we’re forced to wait several more minutes until eventually Henrietta and Lynette sweep downstairs, their thrall trailing behind them. Both are wrapped in beautiful silk dressing gowns that reach all the way to their feet, the luxurious material patterned with greens and black flowers. It’s the kind of fabric Fly would die to get his hands on.
It makes both of them look imperial, and I can see now why so many would expect Beaufort to end up with girls like them. I stand a little closer to him, wrap my arm around his waist – probably reeking of insecurity, jealousy, and possessiveness – but I truly don’t give a shit. It’s not like either twin is particularly sane, and both have designs on my mate.
“Beaufort,” Henrietta says, yawning and stretching her hands above her head, her gown falling open to reveal a considerable amount of cleavage. An action that is most definitely not accidental. “You forced us out of bed. It’s so early.”
“It’s gone nine o’clock, Henny. You’d usually be up and in lessons by now,” Beaufort points out.
“But Eros killed the headmaster, so I’m assuming there are no lessons today.” She giggles, walking into an adjoining room and beckoning all of us to follow.
Again, it’s similar to the Princes’ living room on the ground floor, except this one is far more like the rooms I saw in the palace at Onyx Quarter. There’s a chaise, several armchairs, and everything is dripping with style and luxury.
Henrietta throws herself across the chaise, and Linny perches on one of the sofas, her thrall settling down beside her. That leaves two armchairs – one for me, one for Beaufort, several feet apart.
I shake my head and take the one closest to Henrietta. Her gown has fallen open at the bottom now too, and she’s showing an awful lot of bare thigh. If we didn’t need her, I’d be growling and quite possibly attempting to claw her eyes out. Or maybe I’d simply roll up my sleeves and show her the fated mate marks, testament to the fact that Beaufort and I are bound together for as long as we live.
“You’ve come to ask us if we’re going to fight alongside you, haven’t you?” Lynette asks from the sofa, ignoring her sister.
“We already told you that we would,” Henny says a little huffily.
“Yes, both of you did,” Beaufort answers. “But I guess I’ve come to make sure you haven’t changed your minds.”
Lynette is quiet, and Henrietta’s gaze skips chaotically around the room before eventually landing on the quiet thrall.
“What do you think, Ingram?” she asks him. I heard the boy is from Granite, that he’s smart, and that he scored a fair number of points in the last few trials.
“I think Lynette deserves to live in a world where she isn’t frightened,” he says softly. “A world where she’s free to be herself without risking being separated from her family.”
I stare at him in amazement, partly because I’m flabbergasted that Lynette would share that kind of information with him, and partly because he’s showing actual empathy for her.
But he’s right. It must be hard to hide who you truly are.
Lynette takes his hand and squeezes it, and for a moment it seems like they might really have feelings for each other. But then she’s looking across at my fated mate with that same sycophantic, slightly obsessed look in her eyes, and maybe – just maybe – I didn’t have this so wrong in the first place.
“Okay,” Henrietta muses, rolling onto her back so that her legs are completely exposed. Just a slip of her gown more, and she’ll be giving us a perfect view of her pussy, which I expect is exactly what she intends. “So we come help you,” she says, waving her hands in the air. “We come fight alongside you… if this ends up being a fight. What’s in it for us?”
“For you?” I say, feeling my temper spark to life.
