Page 81 of Taste of Thorns

Fox

I’m waiting for her at the edge of the forest for our usual lesson, but when I catch a drift of her scent and my eyes lock her way, I understand that something is wrong. She’s marching towards me with a frown on her face and determination in her stride.

I square my shoulders in readiness for whatever attack she’s planning to fling my way.

“It was Bardin, wasn’t it?”

I search her face but nothing more is forthcoming, so I grab a hold of her arm and drag her into the cloak of the forest.

“Care to elaborate on that question, Miss Storm?”

“Madame Bardin was the one who turned you. She was the one who turned you into a vampire.”

I stare at her, sure my eyes are piercing in the darkness.

I hesitate and then, because I can’t deny this girl anything, not even the truth of my shame, I nod.

I wait for the disgust. The accusations.

“This isn’t …” But I trail off.

Her face softens. The anger burning in her eyes morphs into something more fragile – hope.

“Fox,” she says, breathlessly, grasping my arm eagerly, “is my sister still alive?”

“Alive? Briony, weren’t you there when they buried her?”

“Yes, but we never opened the coffin. I never saw her … Maybe she was never in there. Maybe she never died. Maybe Bardin turned her, just like she turned you. Just like she turned Esme Jones.”

“Esme Jones?” I mumble.

She nods. “She ‘died’ in the last trial – supposedly,” she says, making little quotation marks with her fingers. “But she was really bright, well-liked, and she was also the Madame’s latest protégé. Just like my sister. Just like you.”

The hope radiates through her body. It may be fragile, it’s also beautiful, and I want with all my cold heart not to kill it. But kill it I must. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope is the thing that will destroy you in the end. Especially when it is unwarranted.

“I was never the Madame’s protégé, Briony.” I grip her shoulders tightly, the truth hard to admit. “We were more than that. You know we were.”

“Yes, and so she made you one of them. Maybe that’s what she’s been doing all along. Picking out talented students from the commoner Quarters and turning them into vampires. That’s why my sister could never come home – that’s why you’ve never been home.”

“I’ve never been home because I’m too ashamed of what I’ve become,” I say.

But the hope has swamped her senses. She so desperately wants to believe her sister is still out there, still alive, even if only in vampiric form. Has she been harboring this hope all along and I just never saw it?

“Briony,” I say sternly, “your sister could shadow weave. There was no need for the Madame to turn her. And you know how much your sister loved you. She wouldn’t have gone to Onyx without you.”

“But…”

I shake my head. “I’m the only one the Madame has ever turned.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because she told me.”

“She could have been lying.”

“She wasn’t, Briony. Not about this.” I sigh and turn away from her, strolling towards a tree and leaning against it, the bark rough against my palm. “I was special.”

“But why?” she says. “Why were you special? Why did she turn you?”