Page 1 of Taste of Thorns (The Firestone Academy #3)

Chapter One

B riony

I pull back from him, blinking up into his face.

“Wh-what?” I stutter. “What do you mean this power is different?”

My body doesn’t feel like my own. I’m lightheaded, dazed. The world is spinning twice as fast and blood roars in my ears. I can sense the adrenaline swirling in my veins and something else, something different, something hot and alive.

I stare down at my hands. My hands. Just the same as always, yet they seem completely alien to me. I half expect that strange power to radiate out from my fingers all over again.

Fox cups my hands in his own, and as he does, I realize mine are shaking. In fact, my entire body is shaking.

“I’m not sure entirely, but I think …” His glowing eyes flick to the door and then back to my hands, and then he’s dragging me through the classroom and into his room, shutting the door behind him and sweeping his arms through the air, whispering unspoken words.

I know what that means now – he’s casting a spell.

He answers my curious look.

“I don’t know what this means,” he says, and his unease is infectious.

Fox Tudor has always seemed so sure of himself.

I don’t think anything scares him. He’s immortal after all.

What would? But he seems frightened now, and fear trickles down my spine, adding to the whirlwind of emotions I’m feeling right now.

“I don’t know how much danger this places you in or why.

” He scoffs, shaking his head and turning away from me.

“Maybe I’m just a bitter old cynic after all. ”

“I think we have to be cautious, Fox,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

I step closer to him and place my hands on his shoulder, wanting to anchor myself to something, wanting to anchor myself to him.

He jolts a little at my unfamiliar touch, then leans into it, and I can’t resist sliding my hands over his shoulder and into his hair, massaging the back of his neck. “Tell me, Professor, please.”

He stands there for several minutes, letting me run my fingers through his hair and knead my fingertips into his cold flesh. Then he turns, taking my right hand in his, kissing the palm, before taking my other hand in his grasp as well. Then he meets my gaze.

“Lumomancy,” he says, the word barely audible from his lips, his hands cradling mine as if they are precious things.

“I don’t know what that is,” I say with irritation.

“Light wielding. It’s not the same kind of magic as mine,” he says, “as Beaufort’s or Dray’s. We can weave shadows. Manipulate the darkness. You, Briony, if I’m right, if what I think I saw is correct, can manipulate the light.”

“But what does that mean?”

“Honestly,” a smile plays across his lips, “I don’t know. It’s a magic that was lost. It hasn’t been seen for centuries. Not since the time of dragons.”

I swallow hard. My eyes automatically moving towards the walls and the forest that lies somewhere beyond. I should tell him, but the secret lodges in my throat. Because there’s something that concerns me more.

Thorne.

“I need to check on–”

“Can you do it again?” he asks, a little eagerly, holding my hands tightly.

I stare down at my hands again. That strange sensation sizzles in my veins, but I have no idea how to control it, how to use it. It’s about as useful to me as the sensation of an empty stomach or aching muscles.

“No,” I say. “I don’t know how.” I frown.

“And I don’t understand. Why now?” If I had this power, this ability in my blood all along, well that would have been damn useful to know, damn useful to use.

All those times Muriel beat me, the time Odessa pushed me from that net, the time her friend punched me in the face, the time Henrietta zapped me with her magic and the time Madame tortured me with hers.

“All along I had the means and the power to defend myself, to strike back, and nothing. Nothing ever happened. So why the hell now?”

Fox frowns. “I don’t know. Do you remember anything in the moment … anything different?”

“No,” I say, “all I remember was being desperate not to lose another person that I loved!”

“Love?” Fox says, looking at me with shock. “You’re in love with Thorne Cadieux?” The shock fades quickly, and he steels his features – although I swear his eyes glow more fiercely with emotions I can’t read.

“I … I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I’ve never been in love before.”

“No,” he says, “neither have I …”

I pull my hands from his grasp and rub the heels of my hands into my eyes.

“I don’t know if it’s love or something else, but I have all these crazy emotions crashing around in my head right now …

and they aren’t just for Thorne.” I peer through my fingers at him, hoping he catches my drift because I don’t have the stomach for any more brave acts right now.

“But I do care for him a lot, and I need to know he’s okay.

I need to see him. I need to talk to him.

” The need is tugging at my heart and at my feet.

I need to be near him. “So I’m going to leave now, Professor, and I’m going to go and find him. ”

“I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t need to.”

“You think I’m going to let you walk around campus alone, unprotected?”

“I just killed three …” I shake my head in disbelief. Is this shock? I can hardly believe what just occurred. “I don’t actually know what the hell those things were, actually.”

“Yeah, but you have no idea how you did it,” he says flatly.

“Fine.” I stride anxiously towards the door, every molecule in my body desperate to be beside Thorne. Every molecule desperate to know that he really is safe. Fox follows closely behind me.

I have to admit, his presence is reassuring. I’m severely shaken by this whole event, my legs and my strides not as steady as they usually are, my arms trembling despite my best efforts to make them stop.

Thorne has always seemed so strong, so solid and so resilient. Like nothing at all could knock him down. I’ve seen how powerful his magic is. I’ve seen how even the other shadow weavers are wary of those powers. And yet …

My whole body convulses as the image of Thorne curled up on the floor, blood running from his wounds, once again invades my mind.

I push that image away, hurrying my pace even more.

Then there’s this strange magic of mine. I don’t understand it.

Amelia was the special one. Not me. Even when the stone called me to it – even when it hatched – I always suspected that was because of her, not me. And yet …

I feel like my whole world just got turned upside down and now I’m going to have to work out how to live, walking around on the ceiling.

Like the last time, the pathways are full of students this evening, many looking physically and mentally battered and bruised.

We pass a girl limping, her arms wrapped around the necks of two of her friends.

We pass a group sitting out on the steps of a tower, passing around a joint, the smoke curling up towards the stars, their faces still wet with mud and blood.

And we pass a strong-looking boy from Iron weeping onto the shoulder of a girl half his size.

They barely seem to register me, even with the shadow of the professor lingering at my heels.

In fact, it’s as if they don’t see us at all.

I thought walking around with the professor following me would have them staring and whispering again, but perhaps tonight they’re all too wrapped up in their own demons.

I wonder how many of these students banished their greatest fears?

I’ll have to wait until tomorrow when they publish the points to find out.

Although, I suspect, by some curious means, I’ll have zero points yet again.

Okay, I didn’t deserve to earn any points in the very first trial – the one we were set when we first arrived and had to make our way from the train station to the academy. Fly and I arrived really late and long after everyone else. It’s why we were assigned the worst rooms in the academy.

That second trial though – the maze one – I actually completed. I deserved some points.

And they say the system isn’t rigged!

We reach the Princes’ tower, and I look up to find the windows lit from the inside. I take a deep inhale, petrified about what I might discover inside. I step up to the door, but before I can raise my fist to hammer, it draws open and Beaufort stands in the doorway, his face drawn with tiredness.

“How is he?” I say, stepping forward.

Beaufort places his hands on my shoulders and draws me inside to the warmth of the hallway.

“Resting. He’s okay. No major damage.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, searching his face for signs he’s telling the truth and not just what he thinks I want to hear. “It looked …” I shake my head, “so awful.”

“I’m sure, sweetheart. Dray and I healed him ourselves. But how are you? You’re okay?”

“Yes,” I say, guilt crawling up into my cheeks. I’ve been so consumed with Thorne and what happened in that trial, I haven’t even considered if Dray or Beaufort, Fly or Clare were hurt. “Are you? And the others?”

“Everyone is just fine, Briony,” he strokes his hands up and down my arms, “including your friends,” he adds as if reading my thoughts. “But, shit,” he smiles, a lopsided smile, “it was pretty awful. Freaking snakes everywhere.”

“Snakes?” I say, with a little tease. “That’s your greatest fear?”

“According to that trial.” He winks at me, and I suspect there’s more to it than that.

Behind us, Fox clears his throat.

Beaufort looks up over my head and must spot the professor lingering there in the doorway. “You can come in,” he tells him. “Come on, I’ll take you to see Thorne.”

I nod my head eagerly, and he takes my hand in his and leads me up the stairs, all the way to the third floor and into Thorne’s bedroom.

The room is dark, the blinds drawn down and just the light from the landing filtering through. It’s barely enough to make out Thorne lying out on the bed, the covers drawn up to his chin and Dray seated in a chair by his bed.

“Hey, Kitten,” he says, leaping straight up onto his feet and strolling right up to me, bending down to kiss my mouth. Closer, I can see dark circles ringing his eyes too.

Either they found that trial a lot harder than the last one, or Thorne was a lot more injured than they’re making out and they’ve had to work hard to heal him. “Thorne is sleeping right now,” he says, taking my other hand in his.

“I won’t wake him,” I say, pulling my hands from their grasp and darting past Dray and into the darkened room.

Thorne’s eyes are closed, and his chest rises and falls under the cover. I can’t see any injuries on his face or his neck. They’ve been healed and his face is peaceful, not drawn tight with its usual tension.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and it leaves my mouth as a noisy, ugly sob, tears bubbling from my eyes and rolling down my cheeks.

He’s okay. He really is okay. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such relief.

I want, with all of my heart, to reach out and stroke his cheek, to place just one little kiss on his forehead, but I’m forced to hover by the bed and simply look at him instead.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I whisper as I attempt to wipe away the steady stream of tears from my cheeks.

“I was so scared I was going to lose you. So, so scared.” His eyes flicker under their lids but do not open, and he sleeps on.

My hands curl into fists, my fingernails pinching the skin.

Even when he’s not conscious, it’s difficult to find the words.

I’m not used to sharing my feelings with anyone else – not for a long long time anyway.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stop them sooner. I’m sorry you got hurt. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you.”

Dray comes to stand next to me, hooking his arm around me and dragging me against him; I submit, curling against his body and blubbering into his solid chest. I can’t help it.

All the tension, all the worry, all the fear and all the apprehension I’ve been holding, not just since the trial ended, but all the weeks in the run up to it too, comes cascading out, and all I can do is cling to Dray’s shirt and succumb to it all.

“Shhh, Kitten. It’s okay,” he says, stroking his hands up and down my back and nuzzling the crown of my head. “You’re okay. We got you. You’re safe now.”

“But Thorne? He’s really going to be okay?” I splutter once the sobs subside and I can speak again.

“Thorne? Shit, Briony, he’s been through a lot worse than this!”

“He has?” I say, alarmed.

“Yeah,” he says, hooking his forefinger under my chin and tipping it back so I’m looking up blearily into his face. He’s grinning at me, although I notice his eyes aren’t smiling like they usually do. They’re sad.

“I don’t understand it.” I sniff. “Thorne’s the strongest shadow weaver in the academy–”

Dray bristles. “One of the strongest,” he clarifies.

“He’s faced monsters before, hasn’t he? Why were those ones managing to hurt him? He wasn’t even trying to fight back.”

“Those weren’t monsters, Kitten. Those were shadows. His shadows.”