“Right,” Fox says. “Are you sure you can’t be persuaded to take any other weapons with you?”
“There’s no point,” Beaufort says. “My mother is possibly the strongest shadow weaver in the realm. If she wants to kill me, then she will.”
“Then why the hell are you going?” I mutter.
He laughs. “I’m trusting she’s not going to. She knows I’m the best way she has of finding Briony and getting to her. It’s Briony she wants dead really. Not me.”
“Okay then,” Fox says. “I just hope you know what you’re doing!”
Chapter Forty-One
Beaufort
I arrive at the empty platform, finding it dense with the same swirling mist that surrounds the academy. It hangs in the air, spilling over the edge of the platform like a waterfall and blanketing the spindly grass and earth out here. It’s silent. The mist muffles any sound so that all I can hear is my panted breath and my beating heart.
My palms are damp. I wipe them on the seat of my pants, straighten my spine, try to regain my nerve, rehearsing once more what I have to say to my mother. The seconds tick by, followed by minutes, and I begin to wonder if she’s actually going to come.
Then the sky seems to darken. The air whips violently around my face, forcing me to squint and raise my hands as my hair is blown backward. And then, as quickly as it came, the wind drops. When I lower my hands, my mother is standing before me.
It’s eerily similar to the day I arrived at the academy, when she stood out here on the platform and addressed all thestudents. For a moment, I wonder if my mind is playing tricks on me, or if this is one of my visions, showing me the past instead of the future.
But this morning there are no students waiting nervously, shuffling on their feet and nibbling their fingernails. Today she’s not dressed in her regal gown but her silver suit of armor instead, molded to fit her tall, lithe body. And there are no elite guards flanking the Empress either. It’s just her, and it’s just me.
“Your Royal Highness,” I say, dipping my head a little. Old habits die hard, and, besides, it’s better if I’m polite and respectful.
“Lincoln, we received your message, and we are here as requested,” she says, retaining her formal way of speaking, even though it’s just the two of us, even though no one else is here, even though I am her son.
I stare into her silvery eyes. No crown balances on her head today, her hair twisted tightly away from her face. She looks older than usual, more lines around her mouth, her eyes, between her brows. She even looks a little tired, though not remorseful. Considering she’s tried to kill me, her son, it’s just a little disappointing.
A sword is strapped around her waist and hangs down her thigh. It isn’t the Thunderstrike sword, that weapon was taken from us when we were arrested in the prairie lands. I wonder where it is now.
“What do you wish to discuss?” she asks.
“There’s no need for a battle—” I begin.
My words are interrupted by her angry voice. “Battle? What battle?”
“You’ve come to arrest us, I assume. And as we are not going to surrender to you, it seems inevitable there will be a battle, Mother.”
She flinches slightly at the word, as if she hates being reminded that as well as Empress of this realm, she is also my mother.
“No, Lincoln. There won’t be. If you’re foolish enough not to hand yourselves in, then we will enter the academy by force and arrest you by force.”
“We will resist,” I tell her.
“Have you seen the army we have brought with us?” she says dismissively. “We don’t know what type of resistance you intend to display, but it will crumble swiftly and ineffectively, and then you will be in our custody.”
“And why have you come to arrest me, Mother? Why do you want me dead?”
“Oh, Lincoln,” she says with a sigh, as if I am the most tiring person in the realm. “There are numerous reasons for the warrant of your arrest. You have shown your treacherous intent time and time again. We can only assume you have designs on our throne.”
“What treacherous intent?” I spit.
“You have been deceptive,” she snaps, taking a step forward, anger flashing in her eyes. “You knew the girl was a lumomancer and did not inform us. You knew she had a dragon, of all things, and kept that secret as well. You devised a ridiculous spectacle at the last trial, humiliating your Empress and your deputy headmistress. Your thrall – this girl – attacked the Crown Prince, your brother, in front of our allies and our friends. You demand to be sent to the demon wastelands. And it is my understanding that you killed another of our allies.”
“What?” I say. “Who?”
“Edwin. The headmaster of this academy. Not the first you have killed, nor the only one. Sterling as well. And then there is the most unforgivable of your crimes: destroying the magicalbarrier that keeps our realm safe from the demons, allowing them into our realm to feed on our people.
