Page 7 of Taste of Thorns (The Firestone Academy #3)

I shake my head. “I dreamed of killing her so many fucking times. I fantasized about all the ways I’d do it – all the painful, agonizing ways I’d make her suffer, just like she’d made me suffer. But I saw Thorne yesterday. I want to be rid of her. I don’t want her haunting me.”

“Briony,” Beaufort says darkly, “Thorne doesn’t regret killing his father. Not for one single moment. And I will kill anyone who hurts you. Say the word, and I’ll bring you your stepmom’s head on a plate.”

I can’t help smiling at him, even if I’m still stinging from his earlier lack of empathy. The man is ridiculously dramatic at times. I probably shouldn’t find it as hot as I do. “I’ll think about it, okay.”

“Briony,” he says. “That’s why I think the trial was manipulated. You faced your biggest fear – or your demon – or whatever the hell you want to call it. So did Thorne. I didn’t.”

“You’re saying snakes aren’t your biggest fear?”

“No,” he answers firmly, “losing you is.”

It takes me several moments to compute his response. I blink up at him, my mind whirring. That … makes no sense.

“You fight demons and monsters and that’s your biggest fear?” I say.

“Yes,” he says. The corner of his mouth lifts in an arrogant half smile.

The man is so freaking handsome. Sometimes I forget to breathe.

“Despite what a brat you are, I’m in love with you, remember?

” A snort-laugh erupts from my mouth and nose and I cover them with my hands in embarrassment.

“And I want to keep you around. I don’t like the idea of being without you. ”

Maybe I am one great big sucker but a warmth spreads right from the center of my belly all the way along to the tips of my fingers and the ends of my toes. I stuff a really big mushroom in my mouth because I’m not used to people saying nice things to me and I don’t know how to handle it.

Do I say something nice back? Do I tell him that actually, as damn annoying as he is, I feel the same way? That I feel that way about all of them? Or would that seem fake and contrite right after he’s just said it to me?

“Something strange is going on at this academy,” he continues, “and I think it’s about time we did something about it.”

“What?” I ask, with my mouth full.

“You could start by telling us the truth about what happened in the maze, Kitten.” I turn and find Dray leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.

I consider him and then Beaufort. There have been too many secrets between us – isn’t it time for the truth?

However, Beaufort just offered to serve my stepmom’s head on a plate. I don’t think I can trust them to remain calm and sensible about this and going off all magic blazing is unlikely to help any of us in the long run.

“If I tell you, do you promise that you won’t do something crazy? This person is powerful and clever. We need to be just as clever about things.”

“We’re pretty clever and powerful ourselves, sweetheart,” Beaufort says, clearly a little offended.

“Who was it, Kitten?” Dray says through gritted teeth, his eyes turning deadly and his form flashing briefly from human to wolf and back again.

“Promise me,” I say sternly.

“That’s a hard promise to keep.”

“No, it isn’t. You say you want to keep me safe. Then you can’t act like a bunch of knuckleheads throwing your weight around.”

Dray pouts. “I thought you liked it when I threw my weight around.”

“I’m serious.”

“Okay, Briony. Just tell us,” Beaufort says with frustration.

“Bardin. Madame Bardin.”

A string of expletives come flying out of Dray’s mouth but Beaufort’s face remains calm, as if he’s trying his best to follow my order. His jaw, though, I notice, stiffens a little.

“What happened exactly?” Beaufort asks me.

I tell them everything – describing in detail what happened to me from the moment I stepped into the maze to the moment I left. I even tell them it was Thorne who helped me.

“Fuck, that sneaky bastard,” Dray says, pacing the kitchen, “that’s one hell of a risk to take. You realize if he was caught–”

“They’d banish him. Yes, I know.”

“You think that’s why she went after him in the trial this time?”

“Maybe,” I say, swallowing down my food. “Maybe she suspects he was the one who helped me and she was looking for proof.”

“That’s if she was behind it. It was the Hardies’ thrall who attacked you in the forest, Briony,” Beaufort says, “to get at us.”

“I don’t know if that is linked to this.”

“You should have told us about Bardin sooner,” Dray says.

“Fox said he had it in hand.”

“Fox is a teacher. She’s a teacher,” Dray snarls. “For all we know, they’re working together.”

“Fox saved me, remember?” I point out. “Besides, Fox thinks he’s the reason she attacked me.” Dray looks at me with utter confusion written across his face. “I take it, they used to be an item or something,” I mumble, just the thought of it making my stomach turn.

“So he thinks his ex attacked you because she’s jealous of you or something?” Dray shakes his head. “Arrogant shit.”

“I don’t think that’s the reason,” Beaufort says, combing both hands through his hair. “Bardin is a cold-hearted bitch. And she’s fucking half the academy.”

“She is?” I say, gobsmacked.

“I doubt she gets jealous,” Dray adds.

“She does,” I say. “Trust me. The maze wasn’t the only time she’s taken her feelings out on me. It’s only that promise Thorne made her take that’s probably stopped her from skinning me alive.”

“A promise that will have an expiry date,” Beaufort says, glancing at his bond brother, unspoken words passing between them. “What if Bardin is working for the Hardies? What if she attacked Briony on their command?”

“Why would she be working with the Hardies?” I ask in confusion.

“The Hardies come from powerful families – families who would like to overthrow the Empress and take control of the realm. They may have made all sorts of promises to Bardin if she helped them.”

“What?” I say, astounded. The Empress has controlled the realm for as long as I have been alive. In Slate, we’re always told how well loved and adored she is. The thought that anyone would want to overthrow her had never entered my mind. “But what has that got to do with me?”

“You’re our thrall. They might even suspect you mean more to us than that,” he mumbles.

“So?”

“Our allegiance is with the Empress, Kitten,” Dray explains. “Always will be. And we are powerful allies – ones anyone who wanted to overthrow the Empress would need to eliminate.”

I stare at them in disbelief. The Princes are powerful shadow weavers. I knew they had this stupid rivalry with the Hardies, but not one I ever considered would put their lives at risk.

“If these families are plotting against the Empress – and you,” I say, “why doesn’t she have them arrested?”

“She can’t arrest them without solid proof,” Beaufort says. “These are powerful people, powerful families, with allies of their own.”

“You really think Bardin could be working with them?”

“I don’t know,” Beaufort says.

I push my food around my plate with my fork. “I can’t shift this feeling that all of this is connected to my sister’s death.”

“I don’t see how it would be,” Beaufort says.

I huff in frustration. It’s like all the pieces of the puzzle are right there, scattered out in front of me, but I can’t for the life of me work out how they fit together. No matter how hard I look.

“Clare put together this list – the names of powerful shadow weavers who were students here at the academy at the same time as my sister. We think they are the most likely ones who killed her in the,” I grimace, “accident.”

“You remember those names?” Beaufort asks.

I nod. How could I forget them?

“Who was it?” Dray asks.

I list the different names. Beaufort and Dray nod after each one. “Do you know them?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly. Have these three men been friends with the shadow weavers who murdered my sister all along?

“Yes, they are well known shadow weavers back in Onyx,” Beaufort confirms. He must read the horror in my eyes. “We have no connection to them, Briony.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “Are they the same shadow weavers you suspect of wanting to overthrow the Empress?”

“Two of them, yes. The others, I don’t know well enough to discern where their true allegiance lies.”

I sigh a second time. The string that links all these events together – if it exists at all – remains invisible to me.

We sit in silence, mulling over all the new information. Then suddenly Dray jolts like a realization has struck him.

“Bardin is a vampire. Tudor is a vampire,” Dray swings his gaze from me to Beaufort, “ever consider that they could be working together?”

“Fox is on our side,” I say with exasperation.

“Is he?” Beaufort asks. “My mom always said never to trust a bloodsucker.”

“Well, the Empress must trust them seeing as Bardin is running this school!”

“Does she know that, though?” Dray says. “The Empress might believe the Head is in charge.”

“We should go to the Head,” Beaufort says, “tell him about this. We should go right now. You should have gone right from the start.”

“And what would be the point?” I say. “Like you said, I’d need evidence. It’s my word against Bardin’s. And who will they believe? The Deputy Head of the academy or some girl from Slate Quarter?”

“They’ll believe me!” Beaufort says with his usual arrogance.

“You weren’t there!”

“I say, we go pay the Madame a visit,” Dray snarls, “l’ll happily strangle the truth out of her.”

“No,” I say, “besides, she knows someone helped me in the maze. If she confirms it was Thorne, this could all backfire. Do you want Thorne banished?!”

“I want you safe!” Beaufort says, banging his fist down hard on the table and making all the plates leap into the air.

“Then we have to be smart,” I say. “We need a plan.”

“I hate plans,” Dray growls. “And do you actually have one anyway?”

I shake my head. “We need to think on it.”

“And in the meantime, you need to stay away from Tudor,” Beaufort says, his coiled fist still straining on the table top, his shadows curling around his hand.

“Erm, no!”

“Damn it, Briony. Just do as you’re told for once. We don’t know if we can trust him.”

“I do. I trust Fox Tudor. I trust him with my life. And you don’t get to tell me what to do, Beaufort Lincoln.”

His fist grows so tight, I can see the white of his knuckles through the taut skin and his shadows hiss in the air.

“I do,” he says. “Because I am your protector and you are my thrall.”