Page 34 of Tender Thorns
“What makes you think it was her?”
“I’m not aware of anyone else at this school who would be capable of draining someone else dry, even stripping their essence and leaving only a husk behind.”
“I can’t do that,” I voice from the lounge, wishing I kept my mouth shut when Ziv does a slow turn to look in my direction.
Syrinx steps to the side to look around the male, spying me among the cushions. Her face slips into a sneer before she darts her gaze back to Ziv, and she accuses, “She is a novice.”
“She is mine,” he argues with just as much venom in his tone.
“Then are you accepting responsibility for what she did?”
“I didn’t do anything,” I protest while trying to dislodge myself from the lounge and all the pillows. I’m sure I look like a newborn foal, hobbling around on my knees.
“And yet a novice is dead, killed exactly as other voids have killed in the past,” she deadpans.
“Voids… That’s what you call me, and there are others?” I glance between Syrinx and Ziv, feeling very small and insignificant, considering how little I know.
“Not for a long time,” Ziv answers, still looking at the headmistress when he does so. “And you don’t know if that’s exactly how they were killed, you only know someone wanted it to seem like it was.”
Syrinx narrows her eyes on the fallen god who is defending me. “I suppose you’re going to tell me it couldn’t have been her since she was with you?”
“Why would I lie? We both know I just returned this morning.”
I glance at his profile. He didn’t mention he left the institute, but what bothers me more is that Syrinx clearly knew he was gone and I didn’t. Nothing about that feels right.
“Then you should have no problem with me questioning her alone, so we can get to the bottom of this,” the headmistress challenges with a plastic smile.
Ziv pivots to face me, leaving his back exposed to Syrinx and the other male. Either he trusts her or is powerful enough to know neither of them pose a threat to him. I want it to be the second option. “Did you kill anyone?” He’s searching my face as if the answer doesn’t matter, but he still needs to know.
“No.” I shake my head in denial.
“Do you know anything about the death of another novice?”
“No,” I answer quickly but honestly.
“I don’t see much of a reason for you to question her at all. She doesn’t know anything about it.” Ziv keeps his eyes on me, but it’s clear he’s talking to Syrinx.
“Forgive me for not placing my unmitigated trust in her as you clearly have, Ziveet.”
Ziv’s shoulders roll back, and he seems to become even larger when he returns his attention to the other female. “Tread lightly, Syrinx. Invoking my name will not earn you any leniency from me.”
“I’m not seeking leniency for anything, but I am expecting your cooperation in this. One of my most promising novices is dead, and I want an explanation.”
“I’ll talk to her.” I touch Ziv’s arm to get his attention. It feels important to deescalate the situation between them, even if it’s only so I don’t become collateral damage.
“It was never your choice,” Syrinx chimes in.
“I’m very accustomed to that, not much is.”If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be here at all.
The headmistress runs her eyes up and down my figure, probably trying to assess what threat I pose before finally saying, “Come along.” When Ziv moves to stand at my back, making it clear he’s planning to follow, she huffs out a breath and adds, “If you insist on attending the girl, then I insist you are decent.” Her brow arches as if she’s rebuking Ziv.
Strangely enough, I agree with her on this. There’s no part of me that wants Ziv roaming around shirtless, but not because he’s indecent. In fact, my reason for wanting him dressed is the complete opposite.
I jump when he wraps his thick fingers around my wrist and hauls me toward the door he disappeared through earlier. I’m not surprised to find a bedroom, and that literally describes the room. The mattress is just a few inches up from the floor, and it covers nearly the entire space, leaving only enough room to walk around three of the four sides and an open aisle that leads to yet another door. I nearly trip as I try to keep up with him. When we’re standing in his personal bathing chamber, he finally releases me.
I ring my fingers around the wrist he gripped to ease the pinch of his tight hold. His eyes dip down to watch the movement, and his brows furrow. “You are too fragile,” he states instead of apologizing for his rough treatment. I wouldn’t expect anything else.
“I can’t help the way I was made any more than you can.”
