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

Dray chuckles, and when he looks back at me, there’s that flirtatiousness in his eyes as usual. “Seems our kitten’s claws are sharper than we thought. Fuck, I’d have loved to have seen that.”

“It was spectacular.”

I spin to face Fox, staring at him open-mouthed.

“Wh-what?” I say.

Since Amelia passed, I haven’t received much praise.

The odd passing comment from a teacher; a few words of flattery from Stanley when he was trying to get inside my panties.

More recently, the flattery has been more forthcoming.

Especially from the Princes. But to call something I did spectacular?

No one has ever spoken about me or anything I’ve done with that kind of hyperbole.

Is he teasing me?

I’d question whether Fox Tudor was capable of such things, but then there was the stuff we did in my bedroom. There’d definitely been some teasing involved in that.

He can’t be serious, though, can he?

Except he looks his usual serious self.

“It was, Briony,” he says.

“Well,” I say, feeling my stupid cheeks burn and wiping away that tear from my cheek. “I may never be able to do it again, so …” I shrug.

“You will,” Beaufort says. I bite on my cheek.

“That’s why we’re sent to the academy. To discover our potential, to find our true callings, to know where we belong.

The teachers are here to help you develop and harness your powers.

” He grins at me. “There’s going to be no one and nobody who can stop you coming to Onyx Quarter with us now.

” He smiles broadly, like all is right with the world. I wish I could believe it.

I’m guessing Fox harbors the same level of cynicism as I do. I wonder if he always did but just kept it well hidden.

“Hmmm,” he says.

“What?” Beaufort snaps. “I suppose you’re going to have a problem with us taking her to Onyx when the year is over.”

“It’s not that.”

“My sister,” I say. I go to say more, but suddenly both Dray and Beaufort’s gazes snap towards the door and then they’re running that way. At the same time, the sensation in my blood turns sharp, making me gasp.

I go to follow after them, but out of nowhere, Fox grabs me around the middle.

“It’s Thorne,” he whispers in my ear. “He’s awake.”

“But how–”

“Good hearing. Vampires’ senses are heightened.”

“I need to go to him.”

“Briony,” his hold on me is firm and despite my best efforts, I can’t wriggle free, “let them go to him first. He’s not …” he cocks his head as if listening, “well.”

“Fox!” I plead in distress.

But he won’t let me go, caging me in his arms as I tussle against him. I don’t know how many minutes pass. I hear Thorne cry out. Beaufort’s stern voice. Dray howl.

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, Fox releases me, and I sprint out of the room and down the staircase.

Dray and Beaufort are waiting by the doorway, but they don’t try to stop me. They let me pass, and I rush into the room, coming to a hurtling stop by Thorne’s bed.

A lamp is on now, casting a mellow light across the room.

Thorne sits propped up against pillows in the bed, his hair and his chest damp with sweat, his skin a sickly color.

“Thorne?” I say, kneeling down by the bed, so damn desperate to touch him it’s almost painful.

“I’m okay, Briony,” he says. His face is blank as always. “Just a bad dream.”

“Are you hurting anywhere?” I say, as my gaze hurtles over his face and his body.

“No, I’m fine now.” He turns his head. “I understand I have you to thank for that.”

“And your bond brothers,” I say. “And probably Fox too.”

“Thank you,” he says simply.

“Thorne,” I say, my voice suddenly croaky and my eyes threatening to leak more tears. “What happened?”

He turns his head and fixes his gaze straight ahead. “I don’t remember,” he says robotically, and I don’t believe him for one second. I don’t understand why he’s lying. I was there. I saw those monsters. He has nothing to hide from me. Unless he’s ashamed.

“We all get hurt sometimes,” I say quietly, because I don’t know what else to say. Pride is a complicated thing, and I suspect it’s even more so when you’re the most powerful shadow weaver in the academy who aces everything he does.

“I appreciate you being here, Briony. But if you don’t mind, I’d really like to sleep now.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer some company?” I fidget by the side of the bed. “I can tell you, everything seems much worse if you keep it to yourself.”

“I know,” he says, as quietly. “I’m just tired right now.” As if to make his point, he rests his head back against the pillows and his eyes drift shut.

I linger for a moment. I don’t want to leave him.

I want to stay by his side, ensure he and the others are telling me the truth, and that he really is going to be okay.

But he asked me to leave, and it feels selfish to go against his wishes just to satisfy mine.

Reluctantly, I roll back onto my feet, suddenly aware how much every muscle in my body aches, and tiptoe back to the door.

I find Beaufort hovering on the landing, watching us with concern etched on his face.

He places a hand on my shoulder, massaging the tightness he finds there, and kisses my forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispers, “for saving him.”

I want to tell him that I’d do anything to keep Thorne safe. That I’d do anything to keep each one of them safe. Which seems so peculiar because only weeks ago, I’d have happily inflicted the damage myself.

I can’t find the words though. I’m too emotionally drained, still reeling from everything that’s happened. Instead, I ask him, “Where are the others?”

“Dray’s hot-tailed it up to my study to read everything he can about lumomancy,” I roll my eyes, “and Tudor slumped off to his torture chamber.”

“It’s a dungeon, not a torture chamber.”

“Sure,” he says with a smirk. “I bet that professor is into all kinds of kinky shit.”

I recall Beaufort is into some kinky stuff himself, like watching his bond brother fuck me. Thorne hadn’t been there for that either.

I peer back towards Thorne’s door.

“Is he going to be okay, Beaufort?”

Beaufort nods his head. “He just has these dark moments sometimes, Briony.” He swallows and rubs at his chin. “It’s understandable given what happened to him.”

I stare up at him with wide eyes and he looks down at me and frowns.

“You don’t know, do you? He never told you.”

“Told me what?”

“I don’t think it’s my place–”

“Beaufort!”

He sighs and strides off towards the staircase, jogging down the stairs two at a time.

“Where are you going?”

“To get a drink. I need one.”

I scurry after him. “Beaufort Lincoln, stop being so cryptic and come back and tell me.”

He halts, swings his head around and stares at me. “Little thrall, are you giving me orders?”

I place my hands on my hips. “Do you have a problem with that?” I ask, glowering at him.

“I prefer to be the one giving the orders.” I hear Fly’s voice in my head, whispering, definitely kinky .

“I need to know.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to tell you,” he says, walking again. “Just that I need a drink.”

He strolls into the dark kitchen and walks towards the liquor cupboard. “You want one?”

I screw up my nose and jump up on the counter. “Know what I have heard is nice?”

“What?” he says, pulling a full bottle of a clear liquid out of the cupboard and screwing off the lid.

“Heated chocolate.”

“Hot chocolate,” he corrects.

“Whatever. Is it as good as they say?”

He rolls his eyes at me. “If you’re a five-year-old child.”

“Obviously I never had it as a kid,” I say, a little hostile, “so I’m making up for lost time.”

“Okay,” he says. He pulls a glass and mug out of another cupboard, pours himself out a large measure and then sets to work. We don’t talk while he’s busy preparing my drink, but soon I have a steamy hot mug in my hands. One that smells divine.

I blow across the brown surface and then take a tentative sip.

“Oh my stars,” I sigh, “that is seriously good. Why have you been keeping that from me?”

“Good things come to good girls,” he says, leaning back against the counter, seeming to enjoy the view of me enjoying my drink as he sips his.

I let the heated chocolatey drink warm my insides and then I place the mug down beside me and fix Beaufort with my most determined look.

“What happened to Thorne?”

He stares down into the clear liquid of his drink and for a moment I think he’ll be his usual stubborn self and will refuse to tell me. Maybe I was better off asking Dray.

“It isn’t a nice story, Briony, and I don’t want you to think less of him because of what happened.”

“Beaufort,” I say, cold creeping over my skin, “you’re making me nervous.”

“Well,” he says, pausing to take a large glug of his drink, before wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

Then he begins again. “Thorne’s dad wasn’t a very nice man, Briony.

In fact, he was damn evil. It was mostly verbal stuff, controlling too.

Sometimes violence. Thorne’s magic was always powerful but I guess no one knew just how powerful.

Until it happened.” He pauses. “He was nine. His dad was beating his mom and Thorne lost control of his magic. He killed his father, Briony.” I nod.

I don’t know if I’m meant to be shocked by that, but it sounds like the bastard deserved it.

“His mom tried to stop it, grabbed him and …”

He looks at me.

“She died too,” I whisper, my eyes filling with yet more tears.

“Yes,” he says. “There was a younger brother. He was killed in the chaos as well.”

“Oh,” I say, my voice sounding very, very far away. “But it was an accident, he didn’t mean to.”

“Yes, it was an accident. But that doesn’t matter to Thorne. He still feels responsible. He still blames himself. There are still times when the burden of what he did becomes too much for him. He’ll be okay, Briony. We just have to give him some time.”

I peer down at the half-drunk mug beside me. Suddenly, I have no appetite to finish it.

“He asked me to leave, but I’m not sure I can leave him alone tonight,” I say.

I think of those monsters – his shadows – how they tore and scraped at his flesh and now I understand what they were. They were demons of his own making. It was his own shadows attacking him, punishing him. And he didn’t fight back because he believed it’s what he deserved.

I wonder how often Thorne Cadieux tortures himself unseen, inside himself. I know what that is like.

“No,” Beaufort says, “he needs us tonight. We won’t leave him alone.”

We walk back towards the staircase. Halfway up the stairs, something occurs to me.

“What happened to him afterwards?”

Beaufort pauses. “It took them two days to find him. He’d run away. Out past the realm boundaries.”

“Two days?!” I gasp. “He survived out there for two days?”

Beaufort smiles weakly. “I told you. He’s powerful. That’s why they didn’t lock him away or banish him completely for what he did.”

“What he did?!” I say outraged. “It was an accident.”

“Yes, but not everyone saw it that way. And some argued he was too dangerous to have around. But then the Empress worked out about the gloves. It helps him to control his powers. And then I guess they realized he was too powerful to lose. Too,” he cringes, “beneficial.”

A sick sensation settles in my stomach. I thought I’d had it bad. That fate had been cruel to me. Now I understand what Thorne told me. Fate has already crossed him. No wonder he doesn’t trust it.

“What did his family think of that?”

“Family? Briony, Thorne has no family. They were all killed in that accident. We’re all he has.”