Page 62 of Taste of Thorns (The Firestone Academy #3)

Chapter Fifty-Eight

B riony

My breath catches in my lungs and I don’t hear any more of the talk around me – discussions about ongoing investigations and the need for us to visit the palace in the coming days.

I don’t hear the Empress say goodbye to her son, and I’m barely aware when she departs the room with her guards, leaving me, Beaufort, Dray, and Thorne alone and staring at one another.

Once I can breathe again, I gape at the shadow weaver who is very sure that I am his fated mate.

A shadow weaver who is – what? Heir to the realm?

“I did not know that.”

“It’s not something I go around broadcasting,” he says simply.

This shocks me even more than the original crazy piece of information. Beaufort is an arrogant asshole. He thrives on all the attention and admiration in this academy. Attention and admiration that would be seriously multiplied if everyone knew he was the Empress’ son.

“But all the shadow weavers know?”

“The teachers but not the students – although I’m sure they have their suspicions.”

I stare at him with what I’m sure is absolute confusion on my face.

“How do they not know? How the hell could this be a secret?”

He shuffles on his feet and runs his hand through his hair. “It’s known that the Empress has a son. That she has several children, all by different powerful shadow weavers in the realm. Like all her children, I’m not acknowledged publicly. We’re not seen together.”

“That sounds … really fucked up. Why wouldn’t she acknowledge her son?”

Beaufort smiles, but it seems a little fragile to me. “To keep me safe.”

Something tells me Beaufort doesn’t entirely believe that, but I see the sadness in his eyes and I don’t push it.

My eyes narrow at Thorne and Dray. “Is the Empress also your mom?” I ask them both.

I thought their nickname – the Princes – was just some obnoxious label created to suit the size of their egos. Was I wrong?

“No,” Thorne says, “only Beaufort among us is royalty.”

Beaufort throws his friend a withering look.

“Then why the name?” I point out.

Beaufort ruffles his hand through his hair a little sheepishly. “Some dick once made the comment that we walk around as if we have crowns on our heads – so we embraced it and …”

Hmmm, turns out I was right. Ego-driven. I roll my eyes.

“Does Henrietta know?”

“Does Henrietta know?” Dray repeats, snorting. “Why do you think she’s so determined to sink her claws into Beau?”

“Why didn’t you tell me ?” I ask Beaufort. All those secrets I’ve revealed to him. All those times I’ve been at my most vulnerable. I thought we’d built a trust. And all the time he’d kept this hidden from me. “I thought I knew who you were, Beaufort, but you’ve been lying to me all along.”

“I never lied.”

“You never told me the truth either.”

“You’ve kept secrets too, Briony.”

I hold out my hands. “You know all my secrets, Beaufort. There’s nothing I’m left hiding. How about you? Are you betrothed to some princess?” My eyes widen in horror. “Are you betrothed to Henrietta Smyte?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“But you didn’t step up to tell your mother – the Empress!” I say in disbelief, “– that I’m your fated mate. She just thinks I’m your thrall. Is it because she’ll disapprove? She won’t want her son cavorting with Slate scum?!”

“Briony, you can wield light. You have a dragon!”

“And if I didn’t? If I couldn’t?”

“It wouldn’t matter.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll tell her right now, if it’ll make you happy. I’ll tell the whole world.”

I shake my head. “I thought I knew who you were.”

“You do. It’s still me. I haven’t changed.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” I ask again.

“Because you already hated me!” he snaps and I stare at him aghast. “You hated what I was, what I stood for. You think I couldn’t see it? Damn, Briony, you told me enough times. If you knew who I really was, you’d hate me even more.”

I can’t deny it. I did hate him. I despised him. Because of what he was. His kind killed my sister – or so I believed. They were all evil, all corrupt, all out for themselves.

I got a lot wrong.

“I don’t hate you. Not anymore,” I say. “Not for a long time. I’m in love with you, Beaufort.”

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me now?”

“Because my chance had passed. I didn’t tell you at the beginning and it became more and more difficult to tell you after that.”

I nod. I’m still hurt but I understand his reasoning and right now I have far bigger concerns.

Fox.

He should be here. He would want to be here. And I don’t understand why he wasn’t at the cave. There is no way Fox would let me face Bardin without him. So where the hell is he?

There’s an eerie feeling in my magic – one I don’t think has anything to do with being drained of energy. It’s an emptiness. A void. And it’s freaking me out. Because what if it means…

“I don’t have time for this now. I have to find Fox.”

I don’t wait for them to argue with me or to try and stop me, I’m out of the common room and down the elevator in a matter of minutes and then I’m sprinting across the campus towards the professor’s classroom.

I gasp when I find both the room and his quarters turned upside down, Fox’s belongings scattered across the floor, drawers up-ended, cupboards emptied.

“Wh-what?” I stammer as I stumble inside, not even knowing where to begin.

“The guards,” Thorne explains, “they were looking for clues.”

“Clues about what?” I say in despair.

“Probably determining if he’s been working with Bardin and the demons,” Thorne says matter-of-factly.

“He hasn’t been.” I glare at Thorne. “Did they have to trash his room?”

“He’s not here,” Dray says, sniffing the air.

“I told you he wouldn’t be. They’ve already searched the academy for him,” Beaufort says, picking up a book from the floor and examining the cover.

“We should try the forest,” I suggest.

“If he was anywhere on campus, the guards would have found him. There are shifters and trackers among them.”

“Then where is he?!” I say, stamping my foot in frustration.

The Princes glance at each other, obviously as stumped as I am.

“He may have left,” Thorne ventures.

“All his stuff is here,” I say, flinging my arms out wide. “Besides, he wouldn’t just leave.” Those glances again. “He wouldn’t!” I insist. “But he could be hurt, or trapped, or …” The sob bubbles free in my throat.

“He’s immortal, Briony,” Thorne says softly, “whatever has happened, it won’t be that.”

“There are ways to kill vampires,” I whisper. But I don’t want to believe that’s true. I can’t. Fox Tudor is surely indestructible. “How about the lake? Has anyone searched there?”

“I don’t see why they would have. I never mentioned the lake to the Empress’ guards.”

“Then that’s where he has to be,” I say, tempted to smack my own forehead. Of course he would be. He’s probably been waiting there all along wondering what the hell is going on. “Let’s go.”

“Go?” Dray says. “Kitten, it’s half a day’s trek away.”

“That’s too long. If he’s hurt … I’ll find Blaze. I’ll fly there.”

“You’re not going anywhere on your own,” Beaufort says, moving to block my path.

I throw my hands up in the air. “Then can we do that thing the Empress does?”

“Displacement?” Thorne says and I nod. “It’s forbidden for any shadow weaver who hasn’t yet graduated the academy to displace.”

I look at him, with my hands on my hips. He knows me by now; does he seriously think I’m someone who follows the rules? Plus, wasn’t he the one who helped me in the maze trial, breaking one hell of a rule?

“Not going to happen,” Beaufort says, “you’ve skirted the line close enough. The Empress–”

“Your mother!”

“–is minded not to punish you. But trust me, her mind can change as quickly as the wind if she’s given enough reason.”

“Then I am going on Blaze,” I say, trying to push past Beaufort.

“No need. I’ll take you, Kitten,” Dray says, stepping towards me and holding out his hand.

“Dray,” Beaufort warns.

“Who gives a fuck, Beau? Plus, I’ve always wanted to do it.”

“Do you actually know how?” I ask, wondering what the consequences of this could be if it goes wrong – because I don’t fancy being split in two.

“’Course.” He winks. “I’ve done it countless times.”

“Have you ?” I ask Beaufort.

He huffs, then reluctantly confesses, “On a few occasions.”

“Then we’re doing it now.”

I take Dray’s hand. He winks again. The air around us rustles and in the next moment, I’m no longer standing in Fox’s classroom, I’m on the shore of the large black lake, its turbulent waters stretching out before me. Beaufort and Thorne both appear simultaneously beside us.

“Can you see him?” I ask, scanning my eyes around the shore and then, because I see nothing, searching across the lake’s surface.

“No,” Thorne says.

I cup my hands around my mouth and call his name, yelling it into the abyss. My voice echoes off across the lake but I receive no answer in return.

“Shit,” I mutter, trying to feel for that magic inside. If it no longer feels as hollow, then maybe I am right and Fox is nearby? Only it feels just the same, just as empty.

I shake my head, tears bubbling in my eyes. “He’s not here either. He’s gone. He’s really gone.”

“What’s that?” Dray says, pointing along the shoreline, where something shimmers in the air.

I squint at it for a fraction of a second, before racing towards it, the others chasing after me.

“Briony, stop!” Beaufort calls. “It may not be safe.”

I ignore him and keep on running and the three shadow weavers are forced to follow me.

Cold sand kicks up as I run, flicking into my eyes and stinging at my exposed skin. My feet sink as the sand sucks at my shoes; but I drive my legs hard, panting by the time I come to a halt in front of the apparition Dray had spotted.

It’s a tear in the air. Red and shimmering. Just like the one in the cave.

I stare at it in disbelief, walking around it. I reach out to touch it, but Beaufort snatches my arm away with his shadows.

“Don’t touch it,” he warns.

“Demons,” I say, my voice shaking in my throat, the tears now running down my cheeks. “They were here. They were here and they took Fox.”

“Sweetheart,” Beaufort says, “we don’t even know if Tudor was here too.”

For the briefest of moments that gives me hope. Maybe Beaufort is right? Surely, Fox must have known the trial had changed. Perhaps he’s out in the Highlands right now, lost or trapped or helping some other student.

Then something catches my eyes, something winking in the pale light, buried in the sand. I step forward, crouch down, and digging my hand in the sand, pinch it between my fingers and pull it free.

It’s a ring.

Made from a plain metal. A pattern engraved across its surface.

It’s his ring. Fox’s.

“He was here,” I say, my voice sounding far far away. “This was his ring. The demons took him.”

“Took him,” Dray says, sniffing at the air, “or Fox Tudor has had us fooled all along.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Tudor told us the trial would be at the lake. Maybe it was deliberate, to trick us. Maybe he has been working with Bardin all along.”

“No,” I say. “No!”

“Bardin was the one who turned him. They were an item,” Beaufort says. “Maybe they still are.”

I scowl at the words not wanting to compute their implication.

“Little Kitten,” Dray says, “I’m not so sure the Prof was taken. I think he went willingly.”

***End of Book Three***