Page 20

I watch as his shoulders stiffen and a discomfort passes across his face, which is definitely not the reaction I was expecting.

Dray said Beaufort lived in a place a million times more amazing even than the Great Hall.

Why would going home elicit that response?

Then I remember that he wasn’t exactly eager to leave the academy the day before yesterday .

These Princes already know so much about me – more than anyone else ever has. They know where I come from. They know about the scars on my body. They know my sister was killed at the academy. I’ve opened myself up to them in a way I haven’t even done with Fly and Clare.

Yet, what do I really know about them in return – beyond the obvious? Beyond what everyone has told me? And why have I never thought to ask?

“Fine,” he says tightly. He turns his head and meets my gaze. Am I imagining things or is there a sad flint to his silvery eyes? “Why? Did you miss me?”

I snort. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He holds my gaze in his silver ones and then slowly reverts his attention back to the dance floor.

“I did a little investigating while I was home, tried to see if I could discover who manipulated that trial, why you scored no points.”

“Did you find anything?” I ask, an unease brewing in my stomach.

I haven’t told him what happened in that maze.

He doesn’t know it was Madam Bardin who attacked me.

I don’t know why I’m holding back that information.

Is it because I fear what she’ll do to me if I tell on her?

Or – and this can’t be right can it? – am I doing it to protect him?

Beaufort Lincoln seems to believe he’s untouchable and indestructible.

But Madame Bardin is deputy-head and obviously has no problem attacking pupils.

“The situation, as I understand it, has been dealt with,” he says, with a self-assurance and confidence I’d usually find annoyingly arrogant; tonight though it turns that unease in my belly into something warmer. “But you come to me immediately, if you find it hasn’t.”

Like him, I lift my gaze, peering out across the dance floor, watching my friend, searching for Fly, Thorne and the professor. Instead, finding the Madame – as if thinking about her earlier has drawn my gaze right her way.

She stands on the other side of the dance floor, bathed in the mellow light of one of the crystal orbs floating overhead.

She wears a black slinky dress that falls down her body, clinging to every curve and gathering in a wave of silk by her feet.

Her dark hair is gathered up elegantly and piled on top of her head and her eyes aren’t hidden behind glasses tonight, they glow a dark chestnut brown.

Around her neck is a chain of sparkling diamonds, more pinned in her ears.

She’s surrounded by a ring of young men, all gazing at her enthralled as she holds court, laughing at their comments, reaching out to touch their arms, or rest her fingers on her chest.

It really doesn’t look like anyone has ‘dealt’ with her and she certainly doesn’t look like a woman concerned that at any moment one of her students may be about to make a serious complaint and allegation against her.

As if she’s heard the thoughts in my head, she rotates her head slowly and meets my gaze, glowering at me over the distance.

I half expect her to lift her hand and shoot lightning in my direction.

She doesn’t. Instead, she simply smiles.

A smile with no warmth and no amity. A cold smile which comes with a threat.

One I understand clearly. She’s not done with me.

I lift my chin, and force myself to smile back, even if my legs are shaking with the memory of the pain and agony she inflicted on my body.

I don’t care. I won’t let myself be afraid of her.

Eventually, she snaps her attention away from me, back to her court of admirers and my attention is diverted by Dray lifting Clare up into the air and spinning her around so quickly, people go hurtling backwards to avoid being injured by their dance moves.

“Beaufort,” I say, “what do you know about firestones?”

I didn’t find an awful lot out from my friend. There’s the library but I’m not convinced she’ll be as friendly without my bookworm friend by my side. Fly says the Princes are a resource I should use so I may as well try.

I’m guessing Beaufort wasn’t expecting this conversational topic, because he twists his head around to look at me with a confused frown.

“Firestones?”

“Yes, we weren’t taught a lot about them back in Slate, and I guess I’m just curious. I mean, the academy is named after them. There’s that statue outside …”

He smiles at me like I’m cute or something and I roll my eyes.

“Haven’t you been listening in Professor Cornelius’s Class? He’s covered this.”

“Really? It’s so hard to follow what he’s saying.”

“What do you want to know?”

“For starters, what are they?”

“Magical rocks that existed hundreds of years ago. Or so people say. Some believe it’s where we shadow weavers obtained our powers.”

“You don’t believe that?” I ask.

“Magic rocks?” he says, with a cynical look. “Yet no one can quite describe what they did. It’s like fairies and goblins. Kids’ tales.”

“I’m guessing you don’t believe in dragons either, then?”

“No dragons definitely existed. They used to be a useful weapon against the demons. That was until they died out.”

“Why did they die out?”

“That, sweetheart, is the million galleon question.”