Page 61 of Taste of Thorns (The Firestone Academy #3)

Chapter Fifty-Seven

B riony

“The stone called you to it?” the Empress asks, repeating what I’ve just told her.

“Yes, it sort of pulled me to it. I found it in a pond in the forest out in Slate Quarter.”

The Empress leans forward in her chair and scrutinizes my face, her magic prickling against my skin. I gather she’s trying to determine if I’m lying or not.

“It’s the truth. I know it sounds crazy.”

The Empress sits back on her chair and steeples her fingers.

We’re gathered in the Onyx common room of all places – high above the academy and shut away from prying eyes.

Unlike the last time I came here, the room is full, not with wasted students, but the Empress’ men, and the room is spotless and orderly.

“It doesn’t sound crazy. Not at all. As I’m sure Beaufort has told you, dragons and their owners possessed a strong connection. One, some believed, started even before birth, while the dragon was still inside its egg.”

“I don’t own Blaze,” I say.

“No, of course not. A poor choice of words.” She rests her fingers against her mouth, then lowers them into her lap.

She’s even more beautiful up close: her eyes a dazzling silver, her skin smooth like porcelain, and her golden hair twined around her head and decorated with gleaming jewels of every color.

However, though her beauty may be fragile, there is a power that radiates from her body, that seems to hit me like a powerful wind, and her eyes are quick and intelligent.

I wonder how the Madame managed to fool her too. “But he does obey your commands?”

I fidget on the spot, then glance towards Beaufort. He nods his head, encouraging me to answer the question.

“He seems to, yes,” I concede reluctantly.

“And you’re able to ride him?”

“Yes, I’m not very good at it–”

“She’s very good at it and improving daily.”

“You knew about the dragon?” the Empress says, her tone suddenly tense, her gaze whipping around towards Beaufort.

“I did.”

“And you didn’t inform us?”

Beaufort wets his lips. “No.”

She glares at the shadow weaver for one uncomfortably long minute. Then regains her composure and returns to me.

“How long ago did you find the firestone?”

“Nine years ago. It was the day we buried my sister.”

“Your sister died at the academy,” the Empress says. “You hypothesize that she was one of Madame Bardin’s victims.”

“We’re not hypothesizing,” Beaufort says. “We’re certain of it.”

“Because …”

Beaufort swallows and his jaw tightens. For whatever reason, he doesn’t want to share knowledge of his visions. It’s a secret he wants to keep.

“Because she also had powers,” I tell the Empress, watching as Beaufort’s shoulders loosen just a fraction.

“Lumomancy?”

“No,” I say. “She could shadow weave. A little. She was hoping she’d learn how to master her powers when she arrived at the academy. Instead the Madame killed her. Just like she tried to kill me.”

“More secrets.” The Empress frowns at me. “This seems to be a habit.” I shuffle under her displeased glare. “Lincoln,” she continues, referring to the shadow weaver by his last name, “tells us that today was not the first time Madame Bardin has tried to kill you.”

“No, she ambushed me in the second trial – in the maze too. She attacked me with her lightning.”

The Empress leans forward. “And how did you survive?”

I force myself not to glance towards Thorne. I adopt the blank expression I’ve perfected so well over the years of abuse from my step-mom.

“I don’t know.”

I’m not sure if she believes me. Her magic prickles my skin once again and then she leans back in her chair.

“Were there other firestones in this pond?”

“I … I don’t know.”

“You didn’t search?” I shake my head. “Could you identify the pond on a map?”

I shrug. “I could try.” The Empress turns to the guard by her side and whispers in his ear.

“Your Majesty,” I say, ignoring the look from Beaufort that clearly tells me to shut up, “has Professor Tudor been found?”

The Empress’ gaze swings back to me.

“No, he has not.”

A tension seizes my shoulders. I don’t understand where he can be. He should be here. He’d want to be here. There’s no way Fox would have allowed me to face the Madame without him there, ready to step in. I don’t think he’d want me interviewed by the Empress without him either.

I may not have the connection – I may not have given him some of my magic – but nonetheless there’s this strange sensation in my magic. Like something’s missing. Like something’s gone.

Does that mean what I think it could? That Fox has gone. That he is missing.

Why the hell didn’t I insist on forming the connection in reverse? Then I’d know for sure where he was.

I force myself to swallow down the fear bubbling in my throat, but I can’t concentrate on anything else the Empress says. The words swim around my head as she asks more questions and Beaufort answers them obligingly.

All I can think about is Fox.

“Briony?” Beaufort nudges my arm.

“Huh?” I say, blinking like I just woke up from some terrible nightmare.

“Miss Storm, we are aware you have broken Realm laws by not informing the appropriate authorities about the existence of your powers and the existence of a dragon. The punishments for both should be severe – particularly for the latter transgression. However, you have shown bravery and resilience in bringing to light a far greater crime. Our guards have found evidence in the Madame’s office that she has indeed been working in league with the demons, eliminating students with powers to weaken our realm’s defenses.

” Evidence? I frown. How the hell did I miss that too?

“We are therefore minded not to punish you or those who have helped you. We believe you will prove a great asset to this realm. Your powers are unique and much needed. With the right guidance, with the stewardship of our son, we believe you will do great things.”

What does she mean, stewardship? Am I being sent away to some prince?

“Son?”

“Why, yes,” the Empress says, her eyebrows rising in surprise, an expression I don’t quite believe is genuine, “although the identity of our children has not been publicly disclosed, we are sure he himself has revealed his identity to you. After all, we understand you are his thrall.”

Color rises to my cheeks and I turn my head slowly to stare at the man beside me.

He’s staring straight ahead, meeting the steely gaze of his mother with his own silvery one.

“Beaufort.”