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Chapter Seven

B riony

I head straight for my hiding place when I return that evening, unwrapping the stone and examining its surface, trying to decide if the fissures have grown any bigger.

I don’t think they have, but by the time I wake in the morning and check the stone again, I’m sure the long crack down its length has grown half an inch or so.

What can it mean? Why the hell would a stone like this crack? It wasn’t dropped or thrown. No one has struck it with a weapon or with magic. No, it’s cracked all by itself.

I think back to last night and my almost-confession with Professor Tudor. I’ve no doubt he’d be able to identify this stone and why it has cracked. Should I have shown him?

But I don’t trust him. If I show this stone to anyone, it will be snatched from my hands. I doubt I’d ever see it again and I can’t be parted from it – that strange force that dragged me to it on the day of Amelia’s burial, lingers in my chest even now.

I stroke my palm over the stone’s surface, whispering words of comfort to it, like it can actually hear me.

Then, after enough craziness, I pull on some clothes, and go in search of Fly.

In honor of the completion of the second trial (or non-completion in most people’s cases), all students have the next two days free.

No lessons, no training, no learning. We are free to do as we please.

Not that, as I’ve already discovered, there is anything to do in this academy – especially as I plan to avoid kite flying for the rest of my time here.

In fact, I plan to avoid any form of electrocution for the rest of my life – which probably means avoiding the Smyte twins and Madame Bardin if I can.

When we step out onto the cobbled pathways, we find two things different from usual.

Firstly, last night’s storm has cleared and above us hangs the sun, bright and glorious and even slightly warm against our skin.

I close my eyes and let it tickle against my face. The sun was a rarity back in Slate Quarter and I’ll take every opportunity I have to lap it up.

Secondly, the entire campus is in a state of chaos.

“What’s going on?” I ask Fly as we watch people racing past us towards a crowd gathered further down on the paths. “Did the sunshine turn everyone crazy?”

“The scores must be out,” he says. We look at each other for one whole second and then we’re following everyone else along the pathways towards the Great Hall. A notice board has been erected alongside the statue of the dragons and a huge crowd of students are gathered around it.

We join the back of the queue, shuffling forward as people file back past us, some with smiles of triumph, others sobbing miserably.

Neither of those potential reactions fill me with reassurance. I nibble on my fingernails, balancing up on my tiptoes every now and again to see if I can make out my name.

Finally, we’re buffeted forward and the large sheet of paper with everyone’s names printed in a swirling calligraphy greets us.

I scan the list, as people push and shove from behind.

Unsurprising, the Princes are right at the top with one thousand points a piece in the category of magic and a hell of a lot of points in the categories of physical agility and mental ability as well.

Clare’s is the first name I spy. She’s scored a big fat zero under physical but one hundred and ninety-three points in mental ability.

I tut my tongue. Have they met my friend?

She’s way smarter than the Princes, yet she’s scored less than them in that category.

If I didn’t already know the system was fixed, I’d know it now.

I spot Fly’s name next. He’s scored one hundred and nine points in physical and ninety-eight in mental.

“Not bad,” I tell him.

He hooks his arm around my shoulder. “Yeah, I’m happy with that. Puts me in with a running chance of making Granite. How about you, Briony?”

“I haven’t found my name yet,” I say, bending over as I follow the list of names down and down towards the ground. The list continues on for what feels like forever. At last, I find my name. It’s right at the very bottom. And my score?

Zero points in all categories.

“That can’t be right,” Fly mumbles as I turn away from the board and push my way through the crowd. “Briony!” he calls after me .

When he catches up to me, his face is full of outrage. “It must be a mistake.”

“It isn’t,” I say, calmly. “It’s what I expected.” I manage a little smile, willing myself not to cry, to not let this upset me.

Stars, I’m freaking disappointed. I thought I did well-ish. I thought I had a chance of some points at least.

But I’m also kicking myself. Because, didn’t I know this would happen? Did I really believe it would be any different? That I, Briony Storm from Slate Quarter, would actually earn myself some points? Would actually find my way out of Slate?

Nope, I did not think that. Therefore, this is not unexpected. And I have no cause for disappointment.

“Come on,” I say, pulling on Fly’s arm. “Let’s go find Clare and tell her the good news.”

“Good news? This isn’t good news.” Poor Fly looks genuinely disgusted.

He may have been treated unfairly at home.

He may be more cynical than most about the system, but he still believes in it.

He still trusts it to work. “We should go tell the Princes. I’m sure they’ll have something to say about this. ”

“Let’s not involve them.” I tug his arm.

He takes a big dramatic sigh, then capitulates to being dragged towards Clare’s tower.

The mood and the number of students out on the paths is still crazy. Several of them rushing in the same direction.

“Jeez, what is it with everyone today?” I mumble as several people in a row knock into me.

“Freedom day,” Fly says.

“Yeah, but why all the excitement? We have a freedom day every Sunday. It’s no big deal. ”

Fly shakes his head. “This is freedom freedom day. You’re allowed to leave campus if you want.”

“But there’s nowhere to go!”

“There is if you have transport. I suspect most of the shadow weavers are going back home.”

“And even that requires an audience does it?”

“I’m guessing you’ve never seen a shadow weaver’s set of wheels?” Fly says.

“Nope. Only the mayor owns a vehicle back in Slate Quarter and while some of the boys and girls used to drool over it, I never saw the appeal.”

“Well, Cupcake, this is likely to be a little different.” He grabs my hand and drags me along after the crowd. “Thrall coming through!” he chimes and people shuffle out of our way.

“I am not …” I hiss at him but I don’t finish my words because my attention is stolen by the sleek, elegant machine parked in the square in front of us. “Shit!” I mutter.

“Told you,” he says.

“I’ve seen pictures of vehicles like this but those seemed so fanciful and peculiar. I didn’t really believe they were real.”

“My parents have a vehicle,” Fly says, absentmindedly. “Nothing like this. Only shadow weavers could afford something like this.”

I spin around and grip my friend’s shoulders. “Are you going home for the next couple of days?”

“Me?” I nod and he shakes his head in response. “I haven’t been invited. Not that I’d want to go if I were,” he adds hurriedly. “It would take most of the day to get there and then I’d have to turn around and come straight back.”

We watch as the Smyte sisters come sauntering onto the path. They’re wearing matching short green dresses with little white sailor hats perched on their red heads. Behind them trails their thrall, his arms full of bags.

“I think it’ll only be the shadow weavers going home today.”

“Oh,” I say, as Henrietta waits for their thrall to open the door to the vehicle and helps her inside.

Fly bumps me with his elbow. “Don’t worry. They’ll all be back tomorrow in time for the ball.”

“Why would I be worried?” I say, watching Henrietta rev the engine of the machine, a cloud of smoke shooting from its exhaust, making the crowd of onlookers splutter. “I’m not going to the ball.”

“Don’t be silly. Of course, you are,” Fly says, as Linette climbs in beside her sister and the thrall is forced to cram into the tiny seats in the back with the luggage.

I guess he’s going home with them – to Onyx Quarter.

Does that mean I would have gone if I was playing nice with the Princes?

Just like these sleek machines, I’ve seen pictures of Onyx Quarter too – they were as surreal looking as the pictures of the vehicles.

“Parties aren’t really my thing.”

The last door of the vehicle slams shut, and it darts forward, the vehicle heading right towards us and the crowd scattering and screaming. I yank on Fly’s arm and push us just clear of the vehicle’s path, Henrietta waving and smiling at us through the sparkling windscreen.

“I swear she did that on purpose,” I grumble, watching the vehicle careen off through the campus.

“Of course she did. She’s tried to kill you numerous times. If you just told Thorne Cadieux, she would most definitely stop.”

“I can look after myself.”

Fly mutters a few choice words under his breath, then takes me by the shoulders and turns me to face him.

“No offense, Cupcake, but have you ever actually been to a party?”

“Yes,” I say, insulted.

He looks at me with suspicion. “Describe this party.”

I shuffle on my feet. “There were games, some food and some drinks.”

“What kind of food and what kind of drink?”

“Does it matter?”

“Cupcake …”

“Water and some crackers.”

“And who exactly was at this party?”

I sigh. “My sister, our dog and my old teddy bear.”

“That is not a party.” I open my mouth to argue and he slams his hand over my mouth. “If you want to keep being my friend, you have to go to the party. I can’t go alone.”

“I’m sure Clare will go with you.”

“I can’t go with just Clare. I need you both there. Besides, you might actually enjoy yourself.” His face softens. “Something you are allowed to do.”

“I should be investigating more about my sister’s death,” I mumble.

“There’ll be time for that. Ball first.” I drop my gaze to the ground and chew on my cheek. “Are you worried about those Princes?”

“No, it’s just … I really don’t have anything to wear.” I doubt I’ll be alone in that. There wasn’t exactly the greatest need for ball dresses at home in Slate Quarter. I doubt any of the Slate kids have any clothes worthy enough of a ball. I wonder if they’ll all be missing out like me.

“Lucky you have a fairy godmother then, huh, Cinderella? Those Princes aren’t going to know what hit them.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“You’ll see,” he says, tapping his forefinger against his nose.