“What about Esme?” I ask, the hairs on the back of my neck bristling, as if I sense what’s coming next.
“I think… she may have had powers. Powers similar to yours. I don’t know for sure, and maybe I’m imagining things or …” She trails off, clearly doubting herself.
“Tell her, Naomi,” the boy says again.
She nods and looks up at me. “It’s just… she could do these things. Like she used to pretend she could make the lights flicker in our bedroom at night. And once she lit the fire without any matches.”
“Really?” I say. “And how did she explain it?”
“She didn’t. And those things didn’t happen often. Usually when she was… I don’t know… with me alone. Calm. Happy.” She shifts in her chair. “The academy is a pretty intense place, and she was always pretty stressed out about the trials and doingwell. Her parents packed a ton of pressure on her shoulders which didn’t help.”
I nod in understanding, and Fly mutters a few choice words under his breath. His on-again boyfriend strokes his hand down his arm in comfort.
“Are you saying you think she was a lumomancer?” Beaufort asks Naomi.
“I think so, yes.”
I consider her words for a moment, taking a bite of my buttered toast, chewing it, and letting the butter melt on my tongue. We all suspected there was something special about Esme and that had been the reason the Madame targeted her – but to have powers … powers like mine?
“I think there are likely to be other lumomancers out there,” Fox says. “And I think Professor Cornelius believes there will be more now that Briony’s light powers have come out, that hers will spark powers in others too.”
“Considering the Empress is going to come at us with everything she has – which is all the other shadow weavers in the realm – those lumomancers might be kind of useful,” Dray points out.
“Notallthe shadow weavers,” Beaufort says. “Some are prepared to stand with us.”
Dray licks jam off his fingers. “That’s if they’re still here. Wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve all disappeared overnight.”
Beaufort massages his temples. It’s obvious he hadn’t considered that. “You’re right,” he says after a moment, pushing back his chair. “I need to go and see if they’re still here and talk with them. Convince them to stand with us. Plus, you never know, they might have some useful intelligence, perhaps even one or two good ideas.”
“Who are you going to see first?” I ask.
“Henrietta and Lynette,” he says. “If they’re still here, then they’re going to be the most useful. Lots of people look up to them – especially Henrietta.”
“Then I’m coming with you,” I say, picking up my toast from my plate and pushing my chair back.
Beaufort opens his mouth as if he’s going to argue, but then changes his mind and nods.
I’m halfway to the door when an idea occurs to me. I spin back around to the others.
“It might be useful to know if anyone else thinks they might have light magic, or if they know of someone else who they think does.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” the Professor says.
“We’ll split up and go talk to all the other students and the staff,” I say.
“We’ll help,” Naomi says, her friends nodding alongside her.
And then I’m following Beaufort out the door.
I’m surprised to find the day is a bright, sunny one, as if the weather is looking down favorably on us for once. It’s so rare to see the sun here at the academy; it’s usually smothered in thick cloud or mist, but its appearance is deceptive. The air is bitterly cold, and it hits me in the face as I step outside. I tug my coat around me and plunge my hands into my pockets. Our breath hangs foggily in front of our faces as we hurry along the pathways, no longer having to worry about hiding ourselves or coming face-to-face with a patrol of guards.
I’ve never been to the Smyte twins’ tower before, and I’m rather surprised to find it lies so close to the Princes’. All this time they were right there and I never realized. I wonder how often they’ve stared out their window and watched me come and go, how often they’ve been spying on me.
Beaufort steps up onto the doorstep and hammers on the door. I peer through the window on the lower level, but thecurtains are drawn and the tower is dark. I wonder if Dray is right and the twins have had a change of heart and disappeared in the middle of the night.
But then the door opens.
The twins’ thrall stands in the doorway – the boy with the golden hair, a beautiful face, and a collar wrapped around his throat. Instinctively, I touch my own neck. Would things have been different, would they have turned out differently, if I’d worn the Princes’ collar? Would I still be standing here now? Would the magic have still awakened in my veins?
