“The academy,” I say. “We’re going to go back to the Firestone Academy.” If there’s a way to get into the Black Tower, if there’s a way to escape from it, I know one person who will be able to find that information with a little help from her bookish admirer, Clare.
“Briony, is that—” Fox starts.
“Yes,” I say, “it is a good idea.”
“Thorne told me there were soldiers stationed at the academy. You haven’t heard from your friends in days. Who knows what security measures might be there now. And don’t they have that bastard, Sterling, running the academy as well?”
I shrug. “Then we’ll just have to find a way to sneak in, won’t we?”
Fox stares at the dragon. “You think we can sneak in with him?”
“Yes,” I say. “I kept him hidden for weeks, didn’t I? And not even you, Professor, knew of his existence.”
“He was much smaller then,” Fox points out.
I turn to my dragon, crossing the yards between us, and stroke my hand down his snout, kissing first one nostril and then the other. “You’re very subtle and very sneaky, aren’t you, Blazey Baby?”
He hums contentedly.
Then I spin back around. “I’m going to find some pants,” I tell them all. “And then you and I, Professor, are leaving for the Academy.” I turn to the three boys. “You don’t share this conversation with anyone else. Understood?” They all nod. “Because if you do …” They smirk at me. “You think I’m not serious?” I say. “You may find your big brother intimidating, butI promise you, if you betray us, I will fry each one of you alive and then I’ll feed what’s left of you to my dragon.” I thumb over my shoulder in the direction of Blaze.
They nod again. And I really do hope I can trust them.
“And if we find anything out, we’ll send you a crow,” Dirk says.
“Is that safe?” I ask Fox.
“If they take the usual precautions.”
“Of course we will,” Dirk says.
“Right then,” I say, strolling back towards the mansion in search of some damn pants and some damn shoes.
Chapter Two
Beaufort
Time and space whistle around my ears, and then my feet hit down hard on moist ground.
I blink, my eyes focusing in on my new surroundings. The air is gray, the sky heavy with cloud, and before us crouches the Black Tower – squat and solid and sinister.
There’s the rattle of chains, the creak of metal against metal, and the old wooden drawbridge lowers across the grimy moat, the rusted iron door in its archway swinging open too. The soldier who grips my forearm tightens his fingers into my flesh and pushes me forward as the drawbridge meets the earth, and I march across it, my head swinging upwards to gaze at the portcullis as we pass through the entrance.
There are many things I envisioned for my future, many places I expected to travel. In that future, the Tower was never one of them.
The Black Tower: a place for traitors, a place traitors enter and never leave – not with their heads still attached to their shoulders anyway.
“On whose authority have you brought us here?” I roar for at least the third time.
For a third time, none of the soldiers answer. They are all members of the Empress’s elite guard; the gold braiding on their purple uniform indicating their elevated rank. They’ve locked our hands behind our backs using deadening binds, which means as hard as I pull, yank, and jerk at my magic, it remains stuck in my veins like congealing blood, simmering and smoldering, desperate to break free but, for the time being at least, utterly useless.
Behind me, I can hear Dray struggling like a wild dog, growling, snapping his teeth and kicking out. He’s refusing to walk, and I can hear him swearing and cursing as the soldiers drag him across the drawbridge.
Thorne strides beside me, his jaw set, his gaze fixed straight ahead, his body rigid. None of the soldiers are brave enough to touch my bond brother. Instead, they surround him, each armed with a spear directed at his heart – powerful weapons that amplify a shadow weaver’s magic.
We emerge into a dingy courtyard, dirty straw scattered across the ground and damp stone walls lurching up into the gray sky. They march us straight across, through an opposite doorway, and then up a stone spiral staircase that reminds me of the staircase at the fort out in the demon wastelands. This tower must be as old as that fort – it’s existed for as long as the accounts of this realm have been written, a place where the ruling emperor or empress of the day has sent their enemies – sent their enemies to meet their deaths.
After everything I’ve heard, everything I’ve learned over these last few days, after my eyes have been truly opened to the truth of the world in which we live, it’s still a shock. Still utterly unbelievable that she would do this. My own mother. Is she condemning me to death?
