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Chapter Sixty-Four

F ox

I yank her up onto her feet, curling my arm around her waist, pulling my cloak around her shoulders and dragging her towards the academy.

Her frame trembles uncontrollably and when she looks up into my face, hers is as pale as the snow.

She yanks back at me weakly, trying to resist my effort to drag her away.

“No,” she shakes her head in desperation. “No, Thorne. He’s hurt. Dying. I’ve got to go back. I’ve got to help him. We’ve got to help him.”

There are tears on her face, running down her cheeks. Her green eyes are wild and full of fear. I grip her shoulders and shake her.

“Briony, he’s going to be okay,” I reassure her. Then I wrap my arm around her again and pull her along, searching the darkness for whoever may be lurking in the shadows.

Did she see? Does she know?

“Fox,” she cries, stumbling in the snow, “he was dying!”

“Briony,” I say sternly, “the others have him. He will be okay. You, on the other hand …”

“Me?” she says in obvious shock, her wide eyes finding mine.

“Come on,” I growl.

I lead her the back way, avoiding others as I best I can, relief flooding my chest when we reach the staircase and I pull her down to the dungeon.

Once we’re inside my room, I lock the door with the strongest spells I know, then guide her to the chair before my desk, setting the flames roaring in the fireplace and striding over to the shelves at the back of the classroom.

I retrieve a bottle of whisky hidden behind the books and two tumblers.

Then I return to where she is sitting, shaking and sobbing.

I pour a stiff drink for her and one for me.

“Here,” I say, holding it out to her as I knock back my own.

She peers down into the amber liquid, back up at me and attempts to stand, but her legs give way under her and I’m forced to catch her by the elbow.

I push her straight back down into her seat.

“I need to know he’s all right.”

“He is all right. I already told you. His bond brothers have him.” I hold out the glass. “Now drink this. It will calm your nerves.”

She tries to take it from my hand, but her arm trembles so much the liquid sloshes over the rim and I take it back in my hand and lift it to her lips, tipping the alcohol between them.

She sips, her wet eyes watching me. When the glass is empty, I wipe the tears from her cheeks with the pad of my thumb.

She’s shaking a little less now but her face is still full of fear.

“W-w-w-what happened?” she says. “I don’t understand what happened.”

“You tell me,” I say, pouring myself another drink.

She pulls my cloak tight around her body. There is blood on her knees but other than that she looks unharmed. Not a scratch on her. Completely different to how she looked after that last trial.

She rubs at her head, as her teeth chatter together.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” I tell her. “You’re safe now. You’re safe with me.”

She shudders, then seems to find the resilience to answer me. “I stepped through the fence and I was back there – in Slate.”

I nod. “And what was there with you?”

“Who,” she corrects, swallowing. “Muriel, my stepmother.”

“The trial was set up for you to face your greatest fear,” I explain. “Is she … did she …”

“She used to beat me,” she says, motioning to the glass. I fill it up, then lift it to her mouth again and she takes another swig.

“The scars,” I say.

“Yes.”

I frown, my eyes scanning her form once again. Did I miss something? Is she hurt and I didn’t realize? “Did she beat you?” I ask gently.

“No, she tried to, but I stopped her.” She yanks my cloak tight around her. “I found I wasn’t afraid of her anymore. ”

A smile hovers on my lips. That’s my girl. Brave. Determined.

But then I remember.

“And what happened next?”

“I thought that would be the end of the trial.”

“It should have been,” I growl.

“But then I was somewhere else – somewhere I didn’t recognize.

And Thorne was there on his knees. And these things ,” horror radiates across her face, “these monsters were attacking him, killing him – and he wasn’t fighting back, he wasn’t trying to get away.

” Her eyes, far away one moment as she relives it, connect with mine. “What did it mean?”

“I don’t know.” I take a deep breath in. “Briony, what happened next?”

She looks at me with incredulity. “I … I …” Her body starts to shake again. “I don’t know. I don’t know. It never happened before. I don’t understand how it happened. I …” She closes her eyes and I wait for the moment to pass. Gradually, the shaking of her body ceases.

Sighing, I walk over to my desk, open the drawer and pull out the piece of paper from the book. I lift it up so she can see the page, the firelight dancing over the text.

“I removed the censorship.”

“You did?” She hesitates, then stands and hobbles towards me, holding out a trembling hand to take the paper from me. “What does it say?”

I move closer to her, grip her chin and tip back her head so she’s looking right into my eyes, so she can’t look away when she answers me.

“I think you know what it says, Briony. I think you’ve always known.”

I expect her to deny it, feign surprise, at least attempt to deflect.

She doesn’t. She holds my gaze, something steely in hers. The fear dissipated.

“I don’t know for sure. But I have my suspicions.”

“And what do you suspect?” I ask, my eyes searching hers, my fingers stroking along her jaw.

She swallows.

“I suspect, Professor, that in that lesson,” she pauses, “they discovered that my sister was special.”

It’s what she told me right from the start. It’s what she’s always said. And yet I never questioned it, never asked what she meant by that. Just dismissed her words far too easily. Because the people closest to us are always special to us, aren’t they?

But maybe that isn’t how she meant it.

“Special, how?”

“My sister could shadow weave.”

I hold her gaze, losing myself in the deep green of her eyes.

“You already knew,” I say.

She nods her head. “She showed me.” Briony closes her eyes as if she’s remembering it.

“My sister could make the faintest of shadows dance across the palm of her hand. That’s all, but it meant so much to us.

It was like this beacon of hope. It was our secret.

We never told a soul. Not even our dad. It was going to be our ticket out of Slate – together.

She planned to show them what she could do when she arrived at the academy.

She believed they’d teach her how to harness her powers and then she’d be whisked away to Onyx – and she’d take me with her.

” She opens her eyes and the green of her irises is so dazzling for a moment, I’m breathless.

“That’s what she believed would happen. What did the book say? ”

“Exactly that. During the lesson, your sister was able to weave shadows. A girl from Slate who shouldn’t have any powers at all.”

“But she did and that’s why they killed her.”

“Perhaps,” I say, and she jolts a little as if she was expecting me to argue with her.

But how can I? The trial was manipulated yet again.

Once could be dismissed as a mistake. Twice a coincidence?

I don’t believe in those. It looks like someone is trying to hurt Briony – and not just petty jealous students.

Someone powerful. Someone like Veronica.

I assumed she attacked Briony last time because she is no better than the students.

Just as jealous. Just as spiteful. But now I know there is more to this story.

A lot more.

“And you?”

Her body starts to shake like before. Her words come out in a desperate rush.

“It never happened before … I didn’t know I had the power … never suspected that I could shadow weave.”

I peer towards the door. There is no one there and yet even walls can have ears.

Was I the only one who saw? Am I the only one who knows?

And if I wasn’t – if someone else saw – if Veronica saw – is Briony right? Will they come for her like they did her sister?

I lean closer, my mouth brushing against her left ear and making her shiver.

“That wasn’t shadow weaving, Miss Storm,” I tell her, my voice barely a whisper, “that was something else.”

*** End of Book 2 ** *