Page 33 of Taste of Thorns (The Firestone Academy #3)

Chapter Thirty

B riony

This magic in my veins – this light – is new and I’m still trying to understand the strange and unfamiliar sensations it triggers through my body. Most of them I struggle to interpret. However, in this moment, the message is loud and clear.

Danger .

I can feel the word spiraling through my blood and my heartbeat races in response.

Then I hear it, the sound of high heels clicking on floorboards. The Madame! The sound is distant right now, almost indiscernible, but as I stand there at a loss as to what to do next, the sound grows louder and louder and louder, the Madame growing closer and closer and closer.

I don’t know what to do. There’s only one way out of the building and that will lead me right into the Madame’s path.

She’s going to have questions about what the hell I’m doing here in the middle of the night.

I could lie and say I’d come to talk to her but, as brave as I was sounding with Fox earlier, the truth is, I’m not ready to face her.

This woman killed Esme Jones and possibly many other students too.

Even with Thorne’s promise protecting me, can I really trust that she won’t kill me too? There are no witnesses after all.

On instinct, I step right back inside the Madame’s office, closing the door shut behind me.

I swing my gaze about, searching for a suitable place to hide. But it’s useless, there’s nowhere big enough to conceal me and didn’t Fox say that a vampire’s senses were amplified? She’d probably sniff me out in a matter of seconds anyway.

I swing my gaze around again, searching frantically for another idea, any at all.

My eyes focus on the window. It’s the only way out.

As quietly and as quickly as I can, cursing every noisy floorboard, I hurry to the window and try the handle.

It’s locked, but with my heart racing and my new magic tingling, I snap the lock much more easily this time, the pane of glass swinging open and revealing the dark night beyond, a blast of frigid air smacking me right in the face.

A bitter wind sweeps into the room and around the office, bringing with it the aroma of the night.

Gritting my teeth against the frigid temperature, I lean my head out of the window and gasp at just how far away the ground is. I had no idea I’d climbed this many stairs to reach the Madame’s office.

Beyond the door, I hear her footsteps growing ever louder.

I don’t know what to do.

If I jump, I could break my leg at best, snap my neck at worst. Neither of those options are appealing but neither is being trapped in this office with the Madame.

I scrabble up onto the window ledge, swaying as the ground seems to creep even further away. I grip the side of the window and tell myself to jump.

Jump, Briony, dammit!

But my body refuses to obey. I figure it’s far too aware of all the pain I endured last time I plummeted from a great height.

The click of the Madame’s heels are so loud now they seem to echo around the office.

She must be right outside. I peer down to the ground, then to my left and to my right.

There’s a ledge right below the protruding windowsill and as I follow it along with my eyes, I see it reaches another window several feet away.

Which is strange given there were no other doors or rooms on this level.

I’m not sure I care. This could be my escape route.

Holding my breath and praying the stars are on my side, I flip onto my stomach and slide out of the window until my toes hit the ledge.

Around me an icy wind twists and turns, whipping at my hair and my clothes and slamming the window shut above me.

Fortunately, the wall of the building is formed of old stone, providing nooks and grooves I can use to cling on to the side of the building, and the windowsill juts out at such an angle I’m hidden from the window above me.

For several moments I stay exactly where I am, too frightened to move, hoping with all my heart my cloaking spell has worked and the Madame can’t hear the frantic drumming of my heart and won’t pick up my scent.

Knowing one false move means I’ll be plunging to the ground.

Then, light shines out above me. The Madame has turned on her office light.

I can’t hear her now, the wind is too loud in my ears, and so I almost jump out of my skin when I hear the window fling open a second time.

I freeze. I can’t see if she’s there in the window because of the windowsill, a windowsill that hides me from her view; but something tells me she is there, scanning the landscape. Does she know there was someone in her office?

My heart thumps in my ears so loud it makes me dizzy, and it requires all my strength and determination to hold my body in place, my arms and legs starting to cramp from the effort.

Just when I think I can hold on no more, the window slams shut once more. A moment later the light extinguishes.

She’s gone.

Time to move.

I shuffle slowly along the ledge – there’s no way I’m going to risk climbing back into the Madame’s office – gripping with all my might to the old stone wall with my fingernails, struggling against the tug of the wind that seems determined to drag me down.

I’m almost at the other window, the fogged glass right above my head, when the ledge beneath me gives way and I slip.

I muffle a scream, dangling from the wall of the building by only my fingertips, my nails scraping against the stone. I scrabble desperately to find my footing, but more and more of the ledge crumbles into dust, falling away to the ground.

I curse myself and the stars, and with one last desperate attempt, swing my legs up towards the other window. My feet scrape along the windowsill and I manage to pincer it between my feet and drag myself upwards. Finally, I’m crouching on the windowsill, my heart racing in my throat.

I take a moment to breathe and then I’m tugging on the window, attempting to pry it open. It won’t budge so I shove my shoulder against it. My propulsion is overdone though and I hit the pane of glass and lose my grip altogether.

I wait for the moment to fall.

Instead, I crash straight through the glass, shards splintering around me, and land down hard on a carpeted room within.

It knocks the air right out of my lungs and I lie there struggling to breathe and staring up at a crystal chandelier, wrapped in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs.

In fact, the entire room is thick with dust, it hangs suspended in the air, and when I can finally breathe again, I immediately choke on it.

I roll up to sit, coughing and spluttering as I brush away shards of glass from my shoulders and arms. Miraculously I’m not cut to shreds. In fact, there doesn’t appear to be a scratch on me.

I find myself in a room similar in size and layout to the Madame’s, although slightly bigger and slightly grander.

There’s a wide oak desk. A bookcase stacked with ancient-looking tomes.

A wooden painted globe. And a green leather armchair.

On the walls hang grand paintings of the academy and over a stone fireplace a large depiction of dragons in battle, as well as framed certificates and scrolls.

A shelf runs along one wall and on it stands trophies of all shapes and sizes.

As well as the dust, there are cobwebs everywhere, dangling from the ceiling, draped over the furniture, suffocating the corners of the room.

I can’t deny it’s eerie as hell. Especially as there appears to be no door out of the room. I search the far wall anyway, particularly in the spot where the door lies in the Madame’s office. I run my palm along the dust-strewn wall. I find nothing.

With a huff of frustration, I turn back to the room.

Why the hell would it have a window but no door? Unless it used to have a door but it was sealed up. If that were the case, it must have been sealed long ago.

I return to the desk. On its surface, buried beneath the thick blanket of dust and cobwebs, rests a brass nameplate. I pick it up and wipe away the grime with the sleeve of my blazer. Letters emerge, engraved into the brass, one at a time until I have a full word.

Headmaster.

I drop the plate back onto the desk and spin around, half expecting to find the elusive head lurking in the shadows of the room, or hidden among the cobwebs sitting in the armchair. But there’s no one here, only me.

Only me in a doorless room, one I don’t fancy hanging around in.

I march back to the window. Jagged glass blocks my exit, but with my blazer pulled down over my hand, I work the pieces of glass loose from the frame and let them fall to the ground.

Once the frame is completely clear, I lean out once again.

The distance still looks perilous, but examining the stone wall I think I can climb down just like I climbed along, hoping no more of the stone masonry gives way.

With another inhale to steady my nerves and my resolve, I shimmy out of the window and climb carefully down the wall of the building.

This time, I face no difficulties, and eight minutes later my feet hit the ground.

I peer back up in the direction I’ve just come.

The Madame’s office window remains unlit and the other mysterious window glints in the dull moonlight.

The glass has mended and resealed itself.

There’s no obvious sign of my recent visit and my footprints will intermingle with all the others out here on the paths around the Great Hall.

I’m so relieved I could sob. Instead, I steal away into the darkness, pretty certain the Madame hasn’t seen me.