“Fine,” Thorne says, reaching the bottom of the staircase.
For a man who just lost his v-card to the most beautiful woman in the realm – with a pussy that smells like heaven – you’d think he’d be grinning from ear to ear, skipping down the stairs, singing all sorts of love songs. Instead, he’s the same old Thorne: blank expression. Although maybe thereissomething a little lighter about him today.
“Briony and I slept together last night,” he announces.
“Yeah, you did,” I say, grinning at him. “You fucked each other, didn’t you? How many times was it? Five, six?—”
“Dray,” Beaufort warns.
“Little Kitten just said we had to be open and honest,” I say, “andIwant to know all the delicious little details.”
“Here. Look at this,” Little Kitten says, yanking back her sleeve and thrusting her arm in front of me, clearly an attempt to distract my attention.
Usually I wouldn’t fall for something so freaking obvious, but what she’s shoved in front of my face whips my breath right away. I take hold of her arm in both hands, bringing it closer to my eyes.
“Shit,” I say. “You have them too.”
“I do,” she says, almost proudly, like a little kitten showing off a brand-new collar.
“They’re beautiful, Little Kitten,” I tell her.
“Why do you think they happened now?” she says. “After all this time?”
“Isn’t it obvious? You’ve fucked us all now. The circle’s complete. Or whatever the fuck it is. So now you have the marks.”
“Jeez, Dray,” Beaufort mutters. “It’s not like she’s collecting conquests.”
“No, just dicks,” I say, grinning at her.
She rolls her eyes and pulls her arm back, although I notice she doesn’t cover her sleeve, as if she wants to show off her marks, wants to gaze at them as often as she can.
“Anyway,” she mutters, “something just happened and we need to talk about it. Where’s Fox?”
“Out interviewing other students,” I tell her. “Like we agreed.”
She nods. “Maybe we should help with that too, and then we can talk about what Beaufort saw.”
“Saw?” I snap, turning to my bond brother. “You had a vision?”
“I did.”
“What was it?”
“More firestones,” he tells us. “More firestones out in Slate Quarter.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Briony
“Any luck?” I ask Fly and Clare when I find them leaving my old tower, Clare clasping a notebook and a pen in her hands.
“Not really,” she says. “A few vague feelings that maybe someone they once knew could have had powers.”
“But nothing concrete,” Fly finishes.
Disappointment cascades into my stomach and settles there heavily. “Maybe Professor Cornelius is wrong, then. Maybe Naomi was mistaken about Esme. Maybe there are no more lumomancers. Maybe I won’t be the spark that sees the light awaken in others. Maybe I am the only one of my kind.”
Clare isn’t buying that theory, though. She believes in libraries, professors, and finding all her answers in the pages of a book. She can’t possibly fathom that an expert like Professor Cornelius – despite his old age and that sometimes-straying-into-senility thing – could ever be wrong.
