Tower of Sparks: A Paranormal Prison Fated Mates Romance (Blacktower Prison for Supernaturals Book 2) by Leigh Kelsey

Author:Leigh Kelsey [Kelsey, Leigh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-20T16:00:00+00:00

13

Trouble

I was in the middle of a weird dream. My family were all gathered in our flat in Islington, and I was about seven. Nana was still alive, sat knitting in the corner and muttering about the film on TV—Pan’s Labyrinth, sans subtitles because Mum was still trying to get us to learn Spanish back then. I wasn’t even watching the film; I was having a staring contest with Harmony, who was moody for no real reason. She’d tried to stab me with a fork while we were eating chopitos earlier, and I kinda thought she meant it, even though she said it was just a joke.

Mum walked between us, a glass of wine in hand, and plopped onto the sofa, disrupting our locked stares, and I glanced away. Harmony was being weird lately. Ever since my magic started acting up, she’d been glaring at me more, shoving me ‘accidentally’, and she’d refused to top and tail with me, saying we were too old and she needed her own bed. She’d never said anything like that before; she’d never once seemed like she resented me being her sister and us sharing a room.

Now, ever since my fire came, it was like she couldn’t stand me. And it was really annoying.

“What are you two glaring about?” Mum huffed, watching us both somehow at the same time. Mum was magic and scary like that.

“Nothing,” I muttered at the same time Harmony said, “Why don’t you ask her?”

That was another thing; she kept calling me her and she, refusing to use my name, like it was a punishment.

I scowled, but Mum gave me a stern look, and I fixed my surly gaze on the TV instead.

“Do you want to learn knitting, Trouble?” Nana asked, her eyes shrewd and sharp.

“No,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Harmony?”

“Only if I can stab her with the needle.”

“Harmony!” Mum chastised, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t speak to your sister like—”

A rough hand bruised my shoulder, pulling me upright, and dragged me out of the dream with a gasp. Disoriented in my cell, I lashed out automatically, fire rushing up my arms. A yeoman I didn’t know the name of hissed and let go of me, and I blinked, dazed and still mentally stuck in that dream. Memory. That had really happened—well parts of it anyway. We hadn’t been watching Pan’s Labyrinth that day, we’d watched it later, but the rest was the same.

“What the fuck?” I demanded, glaring at the yeoman guard.

“Get up, bitch,” he hissed, grabbing a baton from his belt. Not an ordinary baton; this one was charged with silver magic and stung like a right bitch according to Queen. “On your fucking feet,” he barked.

Queen snorted in her sleep, then turned over and went back to sleep, snoring loudly. How the hell she slept so deeply in a prison was beyond me. I guess she felt safe knowing she could beat anyone in here into a pulp with her muscular arms and big fists.

“Alright, alright,” I muttered, climbing out of bed and shaking myself awake.

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