Page 2 of Taste of Thorns (The Firestone Academy #3)

Chapter Two

B riony

I open my mouth to ask what in the realm he can mean, but Dray’s already leading me out of the room.

“I don’t want to leave him,” I protest, pulling against Dray’s arm, and peering back over my shoulder towards the bed.

“Yeah, but he needs to rest, and you’re one hell of a distraction, Kitten. Besides, there are things we need to talk about.”

The landing is empty, Beaufort and Fox missing. Dray guides me up the stairs and we find them waiting in Beaufort’s study.

I glance at the desk and my cheeks automatically heat – something Dray catches. He smirks at me, and I’m guessing there are no secrets between bond brothers – not many anyway.

As always, Fox is hugging the shadows, leaning against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest, right ankle crossed over the left.

Beaufort stands in the center of the room, turning as I enter. I wonder what the hell they’ve been discussing.

“Take a seat, sweetheart,” Beaufort says, pointing to the armchair towards the edge of the room as Dray perches on the edge of Beaufort’s desk. “Do you need anything? A drink? Something to eat?”

I shake my head and stay on my feet, wrapping my arms around my middle.

I let my gaze flit from one shadow weaver to the next.

A few months back, standing in a room with three powerful members of their kind would have made me uncomfortable.

I would have feared for my life. But I guess I’m starting to trust these three, even if that’s really dumb.

After all, I still don’t know who killed my sister, and I don’t know who has been manipulating the trials.

“Why do I have the teeniest suspicion you’ve all been talking about me?” I say.

“Because we do. Talk about you,” Dray says. “All the time. We talk about how wet your pussy smells, how tight and warm and perf–”

“You might,” Fox says, scowling at the shifter. “I have more damn respect.”

Dray shrugs. “Trust me, Prof. She loves it. She can’t get enough of my filthy mouth.” He makes a show of licking his lips and Fox’s eyes darken.

“Cut the bullshit, Dray,” Beaufort mutters, combing his fingers through his thick hair. Hair, which doesn’t seem out of place given he just spent an hour facing his ‘greatest fear’. “Of course, we’ve been talking about you. We’ve been trying to piece together what happened out there today.”

“And what did you conclude? You must have seen everything,” I say, directing my remarks towards Fox. “Weren’t you watching to hook kids out again?”

“Not this time. This time, students were on their own.” He shifts his weight.

“Only I was watching you. Or at least I tried to.” He frowns.

“The trial was manipulated again by sophisticated magic. It took a lot of …” he grimaces, “work to track you down. When I found you, you were with Thorne. I hooked you out, called these guys to come get their friend and then took you to safety.”

“Were you … working together?” I say, utterly dumbfounded.

“We had an understanding,” Beaufort says.

“It’s in all of our best interests to keep you safe and sound and purring along, Kitten,” Dray adds.

Fox peers up towards the heavens like any minute now he’s going to lose his rag with Dray.

Beaufort must sense it too, because he says quickly, “What I don’t understand is what the hell happened? How were you with Thorne?”

“I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head because all my thoughts are still so muddled. “I just … ended up there.”

Beaufort looks to Fox for an explanation, but the professor shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know how it was done. But I’m pretty sure it was deliberate.”

“It felt personal,” I mutter, that image of Thorne suffering on the ground, his blood pouring from multiple wounds, his face twisted in pain, once again searing into my brain.

“I don’t know about that,” Fox says, “but I’m guessing someone wanted to test you.”

“What?” Dray says. He’s found a stick of gum and is chewing on it aggressively, hands tucked under his knees, gaze flicking around the room.

“Briony, I think it best you tell them what happened in the trial,” Fox says. I hold his gaze and weigh up my options.

I’ve kept so many secrets for so long. I’m not used to opening myself up. It feels unnatural, counterintuitive. I want to guard this secret as closely as my others. Isn’t it the only way to protect myself?

But then again, things have proven more complicated than even I imagined. Dragons, manipulated trials, demons. And light wielding.

I shake my head a second time, trying to order the thoughts in my head into some sort of sense.

“I finished my own trial,” I say carefully, “and I thought that would be it, that it would end and I’d be back in the academy.

But I was taken somewhere else. At first, I thought maybe it was another stage of the trial, another level.

And then I spotted Thorne on the ground, and these things, these,” I peer up at Dray, struggling to hold back yet more tears, “monsters were attacking him.”

“Where were you exactly, sweetheart?” Beaufort asks.

“I don’t know. Nowhere I’ve ever been before. It was desolate, bare and the sun was scorching.”

Beaufort glances at Dray and I have a strong suspicion that my description means something to him.

“Thorne was fighting the monsters?” Dray asks.

“No,” I say, the recollection of it making me shake. I wrap my arms more tightly around my body. I want to go back down to his room and check he’s okay. They said he was, but I never inspected his body. Under those covers he could be–

“Briony,” Fox says softly.

I cough, swallowing down the sob threatening to bubble into my throat as a lone tear tracks its way down my cheek.

“He wasn’t even trying to fight. He was curled up in a ball as the things attacked him. But it was as if he couldn’t even see them – he was just begging over and over for it to stop.”

“And then Tudor hooked you out?” Beaufort asks.

“No,” I swallow again. “Then I ran towards him. I wanted to help him. I wanted to make them stop. And I was so so scared that I was going to lose him. Lose him like I lost her, and then it just happened.”

Beaufort frowns. “What happened?”

“This light – it came from nowhere and it drove the monsters away.”

The room is silent for a moment, and I can hear the tick of Beaufort’s expensive wristwatch and the workings of Dray’s jaw as he chews.

Then Fox steps forward, out of the shadows and into the light of the overhead bulb.

“It didn’t come from nowhere. It came from Briony.”

“She can shadow weave?” Dray says in absolute astonishment, his mouth opening so far I can see the gum.

“No, it was her sister who could shadow weave,” Fox says, casually sharing another of my secrets. “Briony can wield light.”

“Wield light?” Dray jumps down from Beaufort’s desk and pads across the floor, his bare feet hardly making a sound on the polished wooden floor. “What does that mean?”

He stops right in front of me, and his colorful eyes crisscross my face.

I thought his question was directed at Fox. Now I see it was me.

“I have no idea. It has never happened before.”

“Sure about that,” he asks, his voice a little dangerous, “Kitten?”

“She wouldn’t have those scars on her back if she knew she had powers, would she?”

Dray’s gaze assesses me. He’s usually so playful; it’s unnerving to see him serious like this. “Unless she was trying her damned hardest to hide it.”

“You ever been to Slate Quarter, Eros?” Fox asks, and the shifter shakes his head, eyes still locked on me.

“If you had, you’d know just how damn desperate everyone is to leave it.

People would actually sell their kidneys, their children, their souls,” he says bitterly, “to get out. Powers like Briony’s are a ticket straight to Onyx.

Why would she hide it? Especially at the expense of being able to protect herself. ”

“You tell me, Prof because I can’t see how you wouldn’t know.

” His eyes hold mine. “Can’t you feel it in your veins?

Singing to you, vibrating, wanting to come out and play?

” Shadows swirl from his fingertips and coil around my body.

It’s like an invitation. An invitation to join him.

That something in my blood, that new sensation, seems to hum in response.

But nothing happens. I don’t know how to make it happen.

“I feel something,” I say, closing my eyes, feeling his shadows tingle against my skin and the humming in my blood intensifies. “But it’s new, and I don’t know what to do with it.”

Dray’s shadows linger against my skin tantalizingly for a moment longer and then they slide away.

I open my eyes.

“This light wielding–” Dray says.

“Lumomancy,” Beaufort says.

Dray’s head snaps towards his bond brother. “You’ve heard of it before?”

“Sure. I’ve read about it.”

“Beau, you are a fucking nerd. I don’t remember hearing about it in any history class.”

“That’s because you don’t listen in any of your classes,” Fox snipes.

“But I listen in mine and I don’t remember anything about light wielders either,” I point out.

“The education back in Slate leaves a lot to be desired,” Fox says. “It’s a miracle anyone from our Quarter can actually read.”

“I’d remember something about light wielding,” Dray grumbles.

“What can I tell you?” Fox shrugs. “History is always written by the victor.”

I gasp. “Are you saying that in the past lumomancers and shadow weavers were enemies?”

“No, not enemies, but definitely rivals. Lumomancy died out. Shadow weaving remained. They wrote the history books, and it’s not exactly surprising they focused on their own achievements at the expense of a group of people that are no longer around to challenge their version of events.”

“Because lumomancy is not as powerful as our magic,” Dray concludes smugly.

One side of Beaufort’s mouth curls in a half smile. “She saved Thorne from a handful of monsters. What do you think?”