All Chapters of Poison: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Hadley Avery started turning up everywhere. Not enough to call it deliberate, which was the entire problem. If she had followed me from room to room like a badly trained ghost I could have told her to stop, and she would have had to stop, and that would have been the end of it. Instead she was simply there. In the morning room when I came down with the twins, because she takes her coffee there and always has. In the east garden when Kiana decided Wolfie needed air, because the east garden is where you go if you want to be outside and not be seen from the Council wing. Near the training yard when Kingsley wanted to watch the older boys spar, because the yard wall is where everybody sits. Once in the library, which irritated me most of all, because I had gone there specifically to be around no human beings. Every single time, she had a reason. Every single reason was reasonable. I have discovered that I hate reasonable thi

KillianThe next morning, by the time Jaxson told Maddox to stop being a stubborn bastard, I had already considered saying it myself.Maddox ignored him.That, at least, was familiar.“Again.”Jaxson lowered his practice blade. “You’ve done enough.”“I’ll decide when I’ve done enough.”“Wonderful. I’ll let the healers know you’ve taken over their profession.”“Tell them I want a pay rise.”Jaxson looked at me.I looked at Maddox.He was standing in the middle of the yard breathing harder than he had any business breathing after an exchange that easy. His shirt had gone dark down the spine. There was a tremor in his left hand he evidently believed neither of us had noticed, and he had been holding his weight off the right foot for the last four minutes.He is still too thin. Considerably too thin. His face has not got its colour back, and he moves with a care that has never in his life belonged to him.But he was upright, holding a weapon, and insulting my Beta.It was the most like hi

Hadley I made it three days. Three days of walking past the west corridor, thinking about the compartment, finding something urgent to do with my hands, and telling myself I would deal with it tomorrow. By the fourth morning I was thoroughly sick of myself. Which is how I ended up standing outside Maddox’s bedroom with my hand flat on the door, having a short private conversation with my own spine. I knocked. There was a muffled noise from inside. I waited. Nothing. I knocked again. “Unless somebody’s dying, go away.” “It’s me.” “Then definitely go away.” I opened the door. Maddox was in bed. That was not unusual. He has spent considerably more time in that bed over the last five weeks than he will ever willingly admit to. What was unusual was that he had somehow managed to get every blanket onto the floor and was lying diagonally across the mattress in nothing whatsoever except a pair of black boxer briefs. One arm was over his eyes. The other was hanging off the sid

Killian By half past seven I had been asked to choose between two shades of ivory, decide whether the eastern gallery required additional seating, and give an opinion on a floral arrangement I had not seen. I had answered all three questions. Apparently none of my answers had been satisfactory. “Killian.” I looked up. Avery was beside me on the long sofa with a folder open across her knees. Talia had another spread on the low table. My mother had arranged perhaps nine fabric samples along the arm of her chair in an order that evidently meant something. “What?” “The flowers.” “Yes.” “What about them?” I looked at the photographs she was holding out. White flowers. More white flowers. An arrangement containing what appeared to be identical white flowers in a different container. “They’re fine.” Avery lowered the photographs. “Which ones?” I glanced again. “The second.” “That’s the one you said you didn’t like ten minutes ago.” “Then the first.” Talia pressed her lips t

Hadley The first indication that something was wrong with my morning was that my bedroom door appeared to be occupied. I discovered this at twenty-three minutes past seven. I know the time because I had looked at the clock while deciding whether twenty-three minutes past seven was too early to start an argument with my wardrobe. It was not. I had won. I was in a pale blue skirt and a cream blouse, my hair was behaving well enough that I had decided against investigating why, and I had every intention of getting downstairs before Kiana discovered that breakfast can be negotiated. I put my hand on the door handle, turned it, and pulled. The door came open about three inches. Then something moved on the other side. Something heavy. I stopped. There was a long scraping noise. I frowned at the door and pulled again. The resistance vanished. Entirely. The door came toward me considerably faster than I had planned for, and from the corridor came a crash, followed by a sound like