Thread of Darkness

Ch. 5: i'd like cake before someone gets stabbed

A niggle of panic went through her.

Penny stared at the tray of nuts. They suddenly tasted rancid, more rotten than sweet. Gods. What had she read about them? It had only been that morning. She should be able to remember.

She closed her eyes.

Come on, she thought desperately. I can remember. Hearthnuts have a pain-relief effect when chewed... Or was it when they were stewed?

"What are you doing?" a low voice asked.

Her eyes snapped open.

Grayson was watching her, rubbing absently at his forearm. His white sleeves were rolled up so that she could see a glimpse of his tattoo — a compass and waves — and his skin was tanned from the spring sunshine. His eyes were the same startling blue as the starflowers decorating the bread rolls, Penny noticed, and then immediately wished she hadn't; she tried not to notice anything when it came to Thomas Grayson.

"Oh, I was sleeping," Penny said mildly. "I often sleep sitting up, you know. I find it really helps with my digestion."

Grayson pushed his sleeve down. "You were trying to remember something."

"I was not," she said indignantly.

Grayson watched her and said nothing. Heat rose to her cheeks. He was waiting her out then, was he? Well. She'd be damned if she gave in to him. Penny reached for a bread roll when Grayson spoke again.

"Was it something that you read?" he asked.

She buttered the roll. "Who says that I read?"

"Penny." His face was half-amused, half-exasperated. "I've seen you in the library. I know you've seen me see youin the library."

She set down the butter knife. "I happen to like the light in there. It does great things for my complexion."

"You're looking for something," Grayson surmised.

"Skincare remedies, mostly," Penny said. "It's so humid this time of year."

She bit into the roll. Grayson was watching her closely, as if he could discern her meaning from the way she chewed her bread. A crumb caught on her cheek, and Grayson fisted his hand. As if he'd meant to wipe it away.

"Fine," Grayson said lightly. "Don't tell me. But if you were looking for something in a book... say, on memory loss..." He gave her a pointed look. "I have access to the Great Library in Libertas. But I assume you already know that."

Of course she knew that.

Everyone knew that.

Penny shredded her bread roll. She could still recall Camille prattling on about the Library when they were children. What had she said again?

"It's the largest library in the world, hidden somewhere in Libertas. Only a handful of scholars have visited. But you should see what they write about it, Pen. Marble bookshelves, trees, a floating globe..." Her adopted sister had shaken her head. "It sounds like a fairytale."

A sense of relief went through Penny. Not that the Library had a floating globe — she couldn't give a rat's arse about a glorified balloon — but that she could remember Camille's words. Memories felt like a precious commodity these days.

Penny set down the bread. "You would really let me use it?"

"Of course," Grayson said.

"For a favour?"

His eyes were steady. "For free."

"You must want something."

She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. Grayson's jaw tightened. He didn't look at her as he picked up a knife, spearing a carrot.

"I don't expect anything in return, Penny." His words were short. Almost irritable. "I'm letting you use the Library because I want you to. I'm letting you use it because you're—"

He broke off abruptly, setting the carrot on the plate. Penny swallowed. What had he been about to say? A princess? A friend?

No.

If she was honest with herself, Penny thought, she knew what he was about to say. And it would have frightened her. Which was exactly why Grayson hadn't said it; not for his sake, but for her own.

"Well, thank-you," Penny said. "Please write to your Librarian." She filled her cup of sparkling juice. "You can inform him that I'll be joining him in a week's time."

"No need," Grayson said. "I'll go with you."

Juice splashed onto the table. "Absolutely not."

"Do you know," Grayson said, "why nobody has ever successfully broken into the Great Library?" His voice was maddeningly calm. "There's a secret entranceway that you can only open with Grayson blood. It's impossible to access it without a person from my family. Face it, Princess." His mouth quirked. "You need me."

He was leaning closer, so close that Penny could smell the sandalwood and brine that clung to his shirt. Something lodged in her chest. She'd read somewhere that smell was linked to memory, but she couldn't seem to shake this memory loose; it was like trying to shake a barnacle lodged to a rock.

"Then I'm not going," Penny said.

"Suit yourself," Grayson said, taking a bite. "But the offer stands."

"I'll never accept it."

"We'll see," Grayson said.

He sounded almost smug. Although, Penny thought, it was impossible to tell; she couldn't read Grayson's emotions. Most of the time, she found it a relief; at times like this, she found it a nuisance.

"Penelope!" a voice called.

They both looked up.

Eris waved a lazy hand, indicating the empty seat next to him. His dark hair was freshly combed, his boots polished and gleaming. There was a smear of blood at the corner of his mouth. He saw her looking and grinned, raising a napkin to his cheek.

"Come join us," he said.

The entire banquet hall was watching, now. Penny stiffened. If she didn't go, she looked like a coward; if she went, it meant sitting next to Eris.

Pride won out.

She pushed her chair back. Grayson looked at her incredulously.

"You're joking," he said.

"If I don't go," Penny murmured, "then I look weak." She met his gaze. "You don't know Eris well yet but trust me: my cousin preys on the weak. It's sport to him."

Grayson nodded, his grip tightening on his knife.

Penny squared her shoulders, studying the High Table. Ryne, Camille, and Brigid sat on one side; Eris and his two companions sat on the other side. An even match, then. And if it came to a fight, they had the advantage of knowing the battleground.

A waiter skirted by her, carrying a towering chocolate cake decorated with plump cherries. Penny looked at it wistfully.

Dear gods, she thought, starting towards the table, please let us make it to dessert. I'd like cake before someone gets stabbed.