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Chapter Forty-Seven

B riony

I open my mouth to speak, but Thorne holds up his finger to his lips, then weaves his hands through the air.

When he’s done, he says, “The professor has a very good sense of hearing.”

“Oh,” I say, considering this for a moment. All this new information has fried my brain. I need to sit with it, marinate in it, before I can work out what it all means.

But I don’t have time for that just yet.

“Blaze,” I say.

“Where is he?” Thorne asks.

“I was taking him out for his evening flight when I was attacked. I managed to get him to fly away before they got to me. I told him to hide, but I don’t know if he understood or whether he’s okay or whether he thinks I abandoned him or– ”

“Briony,” he says, “it’s fine. I’ll find him.”

I chew on my lip. “But he might not come to you.”

“He likes me.”

“Hmm,” I say; if he’s scared, I’m not sure there’ll be anyone but me he’ll come to. And even then, after what happened, he might not come to me either. I imagine him out there alone in the cold, dark forest. I don’t exactly have a choice. “Fly knows about Blaze now too.”

“You told him,” he says, his face emotionless.

“I needed some help and you weren’t here.” I chew my lip some more. “Have you told Beaufort and Dray?”

“No, you asked me not to.” He gives me a look and for once I can tell what he’s thinking – I’m not allowed to tell my best friends, but you get to tell yours.

“Good,” I say, nibbling at my lip. The revelations this morning are enough for today.

I don’t want a barrage of questions about the small dragon on the loose.

A scared little dragon who probably thinks I hate him.

A sob bubbles up into my throat from nowhere.

I’m not someone who usually cries and I sniffle and wipe at my face, puffy and sore from the beating, despite whatever they’ve been doing to me at this clinic.

“We’ll find him, Briony. You don’t need to worry.”

“Thank you,” I say. I lift my hand to take his and squeeze it, then remember that isn’t possible. Instead, my hand hangs in mid-air between us and we both stare at it, aware of the invisible wall that hangs between us. One we can’t break through. “I will find a way …” I whisper.

“You don’t think I’ve been trying, that I haven’t tried?” he says, although not unkindly.

“Yes, but have you met me?” I smile at him, something he examines with as much intention as my hand. “I’m pretty determined and pretty stubborn. ”

“You also have other things to worry about.”

“Yeah,” I say, “a dragon and my sister’s death.”

“No, getting better. You must have taken one seriously big beating, Briony.”

“I … I honestly don’t remember.” He shakes his head as if he finds that hard to believe. “My mind sort of just floats away when the pain gets too much. It’s … it’s like it’s protecting me.” I smile flatly. “And then there’s unconsciousness which is also quite handy.”

“I think they must have been trying to kill you,” he says.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“They will regret it,” he says and for the first time I’m not sure that threat is an empty one – hyperbole from some jacked-up shadow weaver high on his own importance.

Thorne means it.

He leaves me in peace after that and although I know the other Princes plus the professor are lurking somewhere outside the room, their mumbled voices carrying through the door, I am alone.

Alone with my thoughts. Which are many and varied and tangled like Rapunzel’s locks on a bad hair day.

I’ve never believed in fate or destiny, mystic powers or star-determined forces before. I thought I knew how the system worked even if everyone else insisted on walking around with the wool pulled over their eyes.

The powerful decide where we end up, which Quarter we serve, how our lives will pan out. Whether we’ll live a life of luxury in Onyx, comfortably in Granite or in misery and poverty in Slate. Nothing to do with fate.

Now I’m doubting everything I believed .

It can’t be a coincidence that the stone called me to it and that fate has deemed me the mate of the Princes and possibly also Fox.

Fox? Plucked from obscurity in Slate and given a life as a shadow weaver, given powers, given immortality.

My head spins again and I close my eyes and try my best to arrange my tumbling thoughts.

If this is fate, or destiny, or something written in the stars, then why me?

I open my eyes and stare down at my hands. Small and weak, my fingertips calloused, a scar slicing across my palm.

Unless …

Unless for the first time in my miserable existence fate has decided to lend me a helping hand. I want to find out the truth about my sister and fate has given me four strong shadow weavers to aid me. Four strong shadow weavers and a dragon.

I can’t exactly see how that’s helpful right now but maybe I have to trust that it is.