A few of the students who had stood in the crowd earlier are back, peering up at Beaufort, who still stands in the middle of the stage, exactly where Sterling had stood only moments ago.
“You heard what I said to the soldiers?” Beaufort asks. They all nod. “Yes, it’s all true. Briony is a lumomancer.” He motions my way.
Remembering what Professor Cornelius had said about my magic having the potential to spread like wildfire – to ignite dormant powers in others – I let the light flicker out in front of me. A great big ball of golden light. The crowd forming again oohs and aahs in wonder.
“Her sister was one too,” Professor Tudor says, walking onto the stage beside Beaufort.
There’s whispering. He hasn’t been seen in days, and rumors have likely been swirling about where he was. Now he’s back, defending me, and standing beside a royal shadow weaver.
“Briony’s sister was a light wielder, and they killed her – just like they killed Esme Jones and probably many other students too.”
“Because they could wield light, like Briony can?”
“We think so,” I say.
“But why? Why would they kill people with powers? We need all the help we can get in defending the realm from the demons. Why would they do that? It makes no sense,” a short boy near the front of the crowd says, frowning and shaking his head as if determined not to believe us.
More people join the crowd. I spot Stanley and his friends lingering at the back.
“Once upon a time,” the Professor says, “lumomancers and shadow weavers lived side by side – a time when there was more freedom, more choice, more equality. But then the shadow weavers wanted more power and more control. They fought the lumomancers to take control of the realm. But they went too far. They wiped them out completely. And in the process, that act of deep evil – of darkness – created the demons that still threaten our realm today.”
“Exactly!” Stanley snarls from the back. “They threaten our realm. If what you say is true, they’d want the lumomancers back to help us rid the world of demons once and for all.”
“No,” Beaufort says. My gaze snaps to him. “Because who does this world suit the most? Who has the most to gain from everything staying exactly as it is?”
There’s silence – uncertain, hesitant – until a girl near the front, Naomi, Esme Jones’s girlfriend, says quietly: “The shadow weavers.”
“Exactly,” Beaufort says. “Shadow weavers like me.”
Several students stare at him in disbelief. Others mutter to one another.
I understand their astonishment. When I met Beaufort Lincoln, he was the most arrogant, self-entitled man I’d ever met. He believed he deserved everything he had in life – every luxury, every privilege, every ounce of power.
He’s changed so much.
More than I ever believed a personcouldchange.
And my heart swells inside my chest.
I think I fall a little bit more in love with Beaufort Lincoln.
“Do you think there could be other lumomancers among us?” Naomi asks next.
Beaufort looks my way. I clear my throat.
“I think … what I mean to say is, yes. I think … I think maybe there could be several among the students,” I say, glancing back her way.
“Bullshit. That’s absolute bullshit.”
I half expect it to be Stanley, but the accent is all wrong. When I gaze that way, I see Kratos, his bond brothers, and several of the other shadow weavers, all dressed in their bright, expensive, shiny clothes, the air of arrogance hanging about them like something tangible and visible.
I know it’s stupid, but I’d forgotten all about them – forgotten they would be here somewhere in the academy and that they’re unlikely to be our friends. Even more unlikely to take our side.
“It’s not bullshit,” the Professor counters. “It’s the truth.”
“No, it’s not,” Kratos says, pushing his way through the crowd, the other shadow weavers following him as the other students quickly scatter to clear their path.
Kratos stops right at the edge of the stage and scowls up at Beaufort.
