Page 68 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion
‘I don’t read well,’ she offered with mild irritation, her cheeks flushing.
‘You should be thankful I have nobody better to torment,’ Thean sighed with barely controlled boredom. ‘I readexcellently.’
Alma’s lip curled back as if resisting the urge to bare her fangs.
‘We need to summon the lords,’ Gideon interrupted, voice sharp with authority.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Emrys corrected, turning to William. ‘William, was there any post this morning?’
The boy frowned before looking in his apron. ‘Only this. I didn’t think the fire post was still open.’
He held out a simple letter, no name on it and singed at the corners. But something in it must have been familiar because Gideon tensed as he saw the blue wax seal.
‘You bastard,’ he seethed.
‘I’m certain we’ll find all the answers we need at the east dock.’ Emrys smirked, a teasing darkness in his eyes as he met his brother’s annoyance head on. Then I saw the depiction of a ship’s anchor at the wax seal’s centre.
‘What’s at the east dock?’ I asked.
‘The Lady of the Reavers,’ Thean Page answered darkly, a threat lining those words. ‘You’d better understand the game you’re about to play, Blackthorn.’
Chapter Nineteen
Alma
They say the clever thief is one that is never caught. The thief that never existed at all. No stories to whisper on the wind, no names to chase.
That’s why you’re perfect, little rat. You never existed at all.
Sometimes I had memories, but they never felt like mine. As if I’d slipped inside someone else’s skull. The pain of trying to piece together what was lost was worse than the loneliness of never knowing. So, whoever I was, it didn’t matter. Who I wished to be was all I had.
And I never wished to be a fool.
He lied.The memory of those words from Kat’s lips, the raw pain laced into them. How deeply they lacerated inside me still.
Master Hale had lied. Just like all those who had come before. How easily I’d worn his leash. Believed this time it would be different. I looked down at my hands, how they still trembled. Rage was too potent in me, like over-steeped tea.
I couldn’t blame Kat for trusting too easily. She hadn’t seen the things I had. Didn’t know this awful world as I did. We shared Daunton, that cruelty was insignificant compared to all that had happened to me before.
I should have known better. I should have seen Hale’s trap. I’d been in enough of them.
I wrung the cloth a little tighter in my hands, letting the soapy water rush through my fingers. Still getting no relief, no matter how tightly I twisted the fabric. The washed cups stacked next to the sink gave a concerned rattle.
‘Shh,’ I hissed. Not in the mood to entertain the house and its mothering. Not in the mood to admit all my mistakes. Chafing too close to the bone. Too true.
And I knew just how venomously I despised the truth. Changed and morphed into anything else to avoid it. Why the beasts beneath my skin were so fucking unsettled.
He lied.An irritated pained growl slipped from my lips. How I’d performed. Smiled and cared for the old bastard. How I’d worried for him.
With an irritated snarl I tossed the cloth and retreated to slump down onto the bench by the kitchen table, pressing my face into my damp, clawed hands.
I hated stopping. Hated the stillness. Hated having to think. Yet, a putrid bitter smell still stung my nose. Like coal tar. Repugnant and stifling. A smell that remained from being that beast and I didn’t know why.
My beasts never lingered. Not like this. I raised my head to watch the black flames lick at the stone of the hearth. The sour smell from where I tossed the remains of that demonic clawed finger into the fire nearly turned my stomach. Needing to be rid of it.
I don’t know why I’d kept that finger, why I’d viciously wanted to, like some cursed trophy. Maybe I’d lost my mind.
Why I hadn’t given any protest as Kat demanded to go with Blackthorn and Gideon to the east. Despite how close it brought her to the Reavers.
