Taming the Wolf King novel · Chapter 4 of 32

Chapter 4: Scones in the Tower

Annis Roswell stood in the wreck of our room with a soggy sweater in each hand and her mouth wide open.

"They drowned your cardigans," she said.

"They burned Grandpa."

I held up the black corner of the photo.

You could still see the toe of his boot.

Annis put the sweaters down and hugged me so hard my ribs creaked.

She was a head shorter than me and smelled like brown sugar.

"Right," she said into my shoulder. "Where are we taking you?"

"We?"

"You can't sleep here. I'm not sleeping here without you. And you've got a whole tower."

"It's not my tower."

"It's got a door you're allowed to open. That's more than this room's got."

She was already stuffing my wet clothes into a laundry bag.

So we carried my life up a hundred and nine stone steps in two trips and a laundry bag.

Annis stopped repeatedly to wheeze.

"Omega lungs," she gasped. "We're built for hiding, not stairs."

The door at the top was new.

Somebody had hung fresh oak on the old hinges overnight.

There was no lock on it.

Caspian was inside, lying on the couch with his arm over his eyes.

He moved the arm and looked at the two of us, the laundry bag and Annis's tin of pastry cutters.

"No," he said.

"They trashed my room," I said. "Rule two. No locked doors. You can't lock me out of the only room nobody else will come into."

"Who did it?"

"I've got a guess."

He sat up.

His eyes flicked silver for a second, then back to grey.

"Who."

"Not today," I said. "Today you're getting a roommate. Two, on weekends."

Annis gave him a small curtsy with the pastry cutters.

"Your Majesty. I bake."

He looked at her for a long time.

"Fine," he said. "She sleeps in the study. You sleep downstairs."

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