Chapter 15 · Bone Whistle in the Wall

Vane slammed the iron door so hard my chain jumped against the bedpost.

"Three days," I said. "You heard that, right? Or is your head too busy cooking?"

He didn't answer. He stood with his forehead pressed to the door, both fists flat on the iron. Steam rolled off his back. The fire hadn't touched him, but his shirt was already soaked through.

Garrick's footsteps faded down the corridor. Slow. Unhurried. Like a man who'd just won something.

"Slay your pet rogue," I said. "That's me. I'm the pet."

"Be quiet, Seraphina."

It came out wrecked. Low, with gravel in it. The beast was close to the surface again.

I shut up. I'm not stupid. I'd learned in six days that the quieter I was when he got like this, the longer I kept my skin.

He pushed off the door and went to the washbasin. His hand shook as he gripped the stone rim. The water went from clear to pink. He'd clawed his own forearm again, and I hadn't even seen him do it.

I looked at the scars on that arm. Layers of them. Old white lines, new red ones.

I looked away fast.