“You think it’s strange how the bloodsuckers can survive out here?” he says. “The headmaster must have been here for years. It’s been that long since he’d been seen, right?”
“Maybe he was someplace else before.”
Dray nibbles on his lip. “Nah, I don’t think so.”
He stands and watches the spinning tornado for several minutes, and then he’s talking at me again.
“I still don’t trust the professor,” he says.
“The professor could be dead for all we know,” I say.
“He’s alive,” Dray says. “That sneaky bastard. I don’t think we can get rid of him that easily.”
“You shouldn’t be thinking that way, Dray. He’s Briony’s fated mate. We’re tied to him by fate. And as much as we may be architects of our own destiny, I don’t think we can change that.”
“But what if he’s working with Bardin? What if there are more bloodsuckers out here? What if they’re the ones controlling the demons?”
“I don’t think anything’s controlling the demons.”
“But there’s some link between Bardin and the creatures,” Dray says. “They saved her. She fled here.”
I rub my head. Beaufort’s the intelligent one. Beaufort’s the one who’s always unwrapped the secrets, who’s understood the more complex politics of the realm. Since the accident, I’ve kept my head down and followed orders. Thinking leads to questions. And questions, I think, are dangerous.
“These are all questions for Tudor,” I tell Dray, “not me.”
“Yeah,” he says, plunging his hands in his pockets. He kicks at the dusty earth, sending ash spiraling upwards and making us both cough.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “I can’t wait to get out of this place.”
If,I think.If we get out of this place.
Chapter Forty-Two
Briony
“That way,” Fox says, pointing to a tunnel at the far end of the room.
We race that way, Blaze whining as if he doesn’t want me to go.
“It’s okay, boy,” I call over my shoulder. “We’ll be right back.”
We sprint down the tunnel, my light bright in the darkness and illuminating the way.
I can hear voices. Beaufort’s and Bardin’s but I can’t make out the words. Why are they talking? Does she have him captured?
I pick up my heels, sending my light soaring out in front of me.
And then I spy them. Beaufort has Bardin wrapped in his shadows, his sword raised ready to strike her. I call his name, he turns his head and looks at me over his shoulder. Shock is written all over his face and I can’t understand what’s happening.
Except, his hold on the Madame slacks; he opens his mouth. I scream and Bardin is sending magic crashing our way.
I meet it with my own before it can hit my mate.
Our magic collides in a cacophony of shadow and light, dazzling and almost beautiful. But then my magic splinters into shards of fractured light. For a moment, we’re blinded by the force of it and when we can see again, the Madame is gone.
“Shit,” Beaufort mutters.
“What happened?” I ask him.
