Page 26 of Taste of Thorns (The Firestone Academy #3)

Chapter Twenty-Three

B riony

At dinner we tell Clare about what the old professor had to say. She’s not convinced there’s anything to it.

“Professor Cornelius thought I was his granddaughter the other day,” Clare says, “he’s confused more often than not.”

“You didn’t see the way his eyes were twinkling – it’s like he was trying to give us a hint or something,” I mumble.

Clare adjusts her glasses, giving me a look that tells me she thinks I’m about as confused as the professor is.

“I agree with Briony,” Fly says.

“For once,” I mutter.

“I think the whole thing smells rotten.”

“Exactly! Clare,” I say, addressing my friend, “do you know Esme’s girlfriend at all?”

“Naomi?” She wrinkles up her nose. “Not really.”

“I do,” Fly pipes up.

I turn my head to stare at him. “You do? But she’s from Granite, isn’t she?”

Fly tsks. “I do have other friends, you know. Several in fact. Although most of them materialized when it became known I made your ball dress. I’ve had ‘friends’ wanting me to alter pieces of clothing or design outfits ever since.”

“How am I only just hearing about this?” I say.

“Too busy screwing all those men,” he says, examining his fingernails.

“Fly,” I say, “do you think you could take me to see Naomi?”

“Sure,” he says.

Turns out Naomi’s room is located in the same tower as my sister’s. I haven’t been here since those first few weeks at the academy and stepping back inside the tower sends a shiver of awareness through my body, as if my sister herself is here with me, right by my shoulder, willing me on.

I can’t shake the feeling all the way up the staircase and to Naomi’s door.

“I’m not sure we should be intruding on her grief,” Clare says, shuffling on her feet uncomfortably. “They were really close.”

“This could be important,” I say, knocking on the door before Clare’s qualms have me chickening out.

There’s a long pause, and I’m on the verge of turning away, when the door creaks open and through the gap, I see a short, dark-skinned girl with red-rimmed eyes and tear tracks down her cheeks.

She’s dressed in an oversized T-shirt and sweat pants and around her neck hangs a silver chain with half a heart pendant, crimson in color, resting against her chest.

Immediately, I’m struck by guilt. I recognize myself in the girl standing before me – in the sadness and shock radiating from her eyes, in the way she clings to the edge of the door because her legs might give way beneath her.

I know what it’s like to lose someone you love – the agony, the distress, the littlest glimmer of hope that it was all just a terrible mistake.

“Hey girl,” Fly says, “how are you doing?”

Naomi sniffs.

“Oh sweetheart,” Fly says, “do you need a hug?”

The girl looks up at my tall friend and then to my surprise nods. Fly steps forward and wraps her in his arms, whispering what I think must be words of comfort into her ear. She sobs a little, laughs and then sniffs again.

Finally, they break away, and she examines Clare and me with obvious curiosity.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you,” I say, “I know this must be a really difficult time for you but do you think we could talk to you for a moment?”

The girl assesses us both.

“About Esme,” Fly says gently.

“I don’t know,” she says, her voice cracking in her throat.

“It’s important,” I explain.

Her gaze lingers on me. “You’re the Princes’ thrall?” I nod. “Esme was curious about you.”

“She was?”

“Yeah, said there must be more to you than meets the eye – and given you just scored maximum points in the trial, I guess she was right.”

“Esme was really smart,” Clare whispers.

Naomi closes her eyes and fidgets with the pendant hanging around her neck. “The smartest person I knew. I don’t see how this could’ve happened.”

“What did they tell you?”

“Nothing really. Maybe that’s for the best. I’m not sure I want to know.”

I guess we’re not so alike after all. Because the mystery of my sister’s death has haunted me continually. It’s been an obsession. And yet, this girl would rather be kept ignorant.

“Do you know what her biggest fear was?” Clare asks.

Naomi’s eyes fill with tears and a sob gurgles in her throat.

“Drowning. She watched her pet dog drown when she was little. She said it was an awful way to go. I can’t …

” She leans her head against the door, hand clasping the pendant tightly, and her entire body shakes.

“I hate to think that is the way it happened – struggling for air, being dragged down by the water, all alone, no one to help her. I’d rather pretend it didn’t happen that way. ”

“Oh, Naomi,” Fly murmurs, stepping forward and stroking his palm down the girl’s arm. “I’m so so sorry.”

“The crazy thing was,” Naomi continues, wiping the back of her hand over her face, “she was a good swimmer. She made sure of it after the incident with the dog. I just … and she was smart.”

Clare nods vigorously in agreement.

“Even the Madame recognized that.”

“The Madame?” I say, my gaze meeting Clare’s and that awareness making my skin prickle again.

“Yes, she spotted how amazing Esme was,” she sniffs, “sort of took her under her wing and mentored her. She said Esme had a bright future. And now …” The grief wracks her body again and I wait for it to pass.

“How did the Madame take her under her wing?” I ask.

“I don’t know really – invited her to her room.

Esme said they talked about things – that the Madame gave her guidance and stuff – but she didn’t go into much detail.

I was too preoccupied with preparing for the next trial.

” She looks at us both through her wet eyelashes.

“I was so scared about this one – for myself. I never thought for one moment … It should have been me, not her.”

“I’m so sorry,” I repeat, not knowing what else to say. Nothing I can say will make any difference.

“What did you want to talk to me about anyway?” She sniffs.

“Just this,” I say.

“Is there anything we can do to help, Naomi?” Fly asks.

“Kyla and Peter are going to come round in a bit. We’re going to light candles for her tomorrow – out on the field. Will you come?”

“Of course,” Clare says.

The three of us are silent as we walk back down the staircase and out of the tower.

Once we’re out on the pathways, I blow out my cheeks.

“Well,” I say.

“You can’t seriously think the Madame is murdering students?” Clare says, reading my thoughts. “Especially such a capable one like Esme?”

“I don’t know what to believe. But is it any more ludicrous than the fact there’s a dragon flying around in the forest?”

“I still haven’t actually seen this dragon,” Clare points out.

“Come on then,” I say, grabbing her hand. “It’s about time the two of you met.”