Page 42 of Taste of Thorns (The Firestone Academy #3)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

B riony

“What?” I say, staring down at him in disbelief. His pupils are blown so wide only a thin ring of silver circles the blackness.

“You were right, Briony,” he repeats. “It was Bardin who killed your sister.”

I rock back on my heels, and, rubbing his head, he curls up to sit, the muscles of his bare abdomen rippling as he does.

“I don’t understand.”

“I saw it. I saw what happened. I saw her kill your sister and …” He trails off.

“What do you mean you ‘saw’?”

“One of my visions.” He massages his knuckles into his temple. “It’s never happened like that before – never fucking hurt so much.”

“You had a vision and you saw my sister?” Beaufort wouldn’t lie about something like this and yet it seems so incredible.

I’ve been searching for answers for so long and here they were residing in his mind all along – or maybe not residing, but he had the power to see the truth.

“I thought your visions were only of the future.”

“Mostly. But there have been a couple before that showed me the past.”

“And you’re sure this one was the past? It wasn’t something that’s going to happen with some other girl?”

“The girl in the vision looked just like you, Briony, only your eyes were different.”

“Are you sure?” I repeat, my voice quivering. “Are you sure it wasn’t me, that the vision wasn’t of the future?”

“No,” he says with absolute conviction. “I have your face seared into my being, Briony Storm. It wasn’t you. But it was a girl who looked like you. It had to be your sister.”

“And you just summoned that vision out of nowhere?”

“I have no control as to when they come or what they show me.”

We’re both silent for a moment, processing this information.

I was right – I am right – about the Madame. She killed my sister. She killed Esme Jones. She killed so many others. Maybe she meant to kill me too that day in the maze. Maybe she would have if it hadn’t been for Thorne.

“We need to tell the others and then we need to stop her.”

He holds up his hand, imitating my gesture from several minutes before. It has me freezing. Only a moment ago, I was concerned this man had betrayed me. Now I see how stupid and foolish that was. He believes me.

“Just give me a moment. These visions, they leave me disorientated and feeling like I might puke my guts out.” He smiles sheepishly at me and it’s so damn adorable, my stomach flutters.

“Did the vision you have about us leave you sick and dizzy too?” I ask him.

“No,” he says, his smile turning sly, “that had me determined to hunt you down and find out more about you.”

“That first day, out in the mist.”

“That first moment when I saw you on the platform. You blew my breath away, even before the vision came. I knew there was something special about you, Briony Storm.”

“The lumomancy,” I say, peering down at my hands.

“No,” he says, sliding his hand into my hair. “It was more than that.” He brings his mouth to mine. “I missed you,” he murmurs against my lips.

“Promise you won’t go away again,” I say, knowing how pathetic that sounds but unable to help myself. I don’t like it when we’re apart. I want him around.

“I’ll try my best, sweetheart,” he says, kissing me with heat and urgency, his hands sliding down to my waist.

“I thought you felt sick,” I tease him, noticing the way the towel wrapped around his waist has tented.

“Yeah, but I think this could be the perfect cure.”

He pulls the two of us to stand, but then he stumbles, swaying on his feet.

“Uh uh,” I say, pushing him down to sit on the stairs. “You stay here. I’m going to get the others so they can check you over.”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“You nearly fell over. There is no way you’re in a fit state for anything more than to sit.”

“Fine by me,” he smirks. “I’ll sit. You come ride my cock.”

As tempting as that may sound, what with the man half-naked, his hair all tousled and messed up, I don’t think it’s in his best interests.

“Stay there!” I command, pointing a finger at him.

“I like it when you’re all bossy like this, sweetheart.”

“Then do as you’re told.”

“You mean like you’re always doing.”

Before he can grab me again, I race up the stairs and find Dray still lazing about in my bed.

“Beaufort just had a vision!” I say, attempting to catch my breath. “He hit his head. Come quick and check he’s okay.”

Dray lifts his head and peers at me blearily.

“Slow down, Kitten. It’s too early in the morning for words that quick.”

“You need to come with me now.” He blows a tuft of platinum hair from his face, considers me, then crawls out of bed, dropping down on bare feet and stretching his arms above his head. He’s once again completely naked and I gather this is the way he prefers to be.

“This is cruel, Kitten,” he mutters. “It’s Sunday. No lessons.”

But I give him a stern look and beckon him to follow me back down the stairs; stairs I find are empty.

“Where did he go?” I mutter.

“In here,” Beaufort calls from his study. We find him sitting behind his desk, a packet of ice pressed to the back of his head.

“What’s up?” Dray says, yawning and rubbing his hand across his chest.

“I had a vision,” Beaufort tells him.

“He had a really violent vision, and he fell down and hit his head. You need to check he’s okay.”

“You don’t,” Beaufort says.

Dray shrugs his shoulders and looks at me. “He says I don’t need to.”

“You do.”

“Couldn’t you do it, Kitten?”

“I’m not a healer. You are. He could have a concussion. We should probably take him to the clinic.”

“I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the clinic.”

Dray looks across at his bond brother, then at me, clearly torn about what to do.

“Dray,” I say, “please.”

His face contorts. “Sorry, dude,” he tells Beaufort, “but lady’s orders.”

“I’ve told you I’m fine,” Beaufort hisses.

“Yeah, but she wants me to check you out anyway and I can’t say no to her.”

“Traitor,” Beaufort mutters.

I hover by the edge of the desk as Dray walks over to his friend. There’s a little bit of tussling, but finally Beaufort relents and lets Dray inspect his head.

“You got a bit of a bump,” Dray says.

“I know,” Beaufort grumbles.

Dray chuckles, then lets the shadows race from his hand. They envelop Beaufort’s head so for a moment he is lost in darkness. Then they retreat away and Dray swings around to me.

“He’s fine.”

“Like I said,” Beaufort mutters.

I let out a breath. “Good.”

Thorne appears in the doorway, dressed in a T-shirt and shorts.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

Dray yanks me towards him, twines his arms around me and, resting his chin on my shoulder, says, “Beau had a vision. What was it exactly?”

Beaufort describes the vision to them, this time in more detail, pausing, and holding my gaze before he says, “There’s more I saw, Briony. I’m just not sure you want to know.”

More? I stare at his eyes. The silver has returned now and they are full of empathy. It has apprehension swimming through my gut. What could be worse than seeing my sister’s murder?

“It’s okay,” I say, stiffening in Dray’s arms. “I want to know. I want the truth.”

“Are you sure? You can’t un-know something like this once you know it.”

“Stars, Beaufort, just tell me.”

He hesitates. I’ve never seen him so unsure before but then he continues.

“Once she’d killed your sister, she bit her and drank her blood.”

I swallow hard. “Where?” I say. “Where did she bite her?”

“Does it matter?” Beaufort asks.

“It matters to me.”

“Her neck. She drained her completely.”

“Fuck!” Dray mumbles as Thorne strides into the room, his magic crackling.

“It’s why they nailed the coffin shut,” I say, my own words sounding far away, my mind spinning. “They didn’t want us to see what she’d done to her.” I wriggle out of Dray’s arms. “My sister isn’t the only one she murdered.”

The three princes stare at me.

“She’s been murdering students from Granite, Iron, and Slate Quarters. Students who show promise or talent. It’s why she attacked me. She must have known about the lumomancy – or at least suspected it.”

“What?” Dray says, scratching his head. “What makes you think all this?”

“Professor Cornelius said it was the most talented students who seem to die most often. Which makes no sense. It’s the students with no talents and no abilities who should be most likely to die.”

“Maybe,” Thorne says, not sounding convinced.

“And then there were the trinkets I found in her office. Belongings of the students she killed. Mementos of her killings.”

“How the hell did you find those?” Beaufort asks.

“I broke into her office.”

Beaufort leaps to his feet. “Are you out of your mind?”

“No one would believe me – you wouldn’t believe me. I needed proof.”

“We believe you now,” Thorne says, then peers around at his bond brothers. “Don’t we?”

“Yes,” Beaufort says, as Dray nods.

“Beau’s visions don’t lie,” Dray says.

“I need to tell Fox.” I start towards the door.

“I’ll get him,” Dray says, moving to block my way. “You stay here.”

“But I want–”

“We need to talk about this together, as a collective, Briony,” Beaufort says.

“Like you did with Henrietta and her information,” I hiss.

He places his elbows on the table and clasps his hands together. “You’re right. That was a mistake. I should have told you what I was doing and why.”

“Yes, you should have.”

“We’ve been going about this all wrong. Each going off in different directions. Doing our own investigations. When we should’ve been working together,” Thorne says. “We’re stronger when we work together.” He peers down at his wrists. “And I suspect it’s what fate wants.”