“It would be,” I say. “We’re stronger when we’re together. Our magic most certainly is. We saw that with the border. We saw it when we were fighting Sterling and his men. We’re weaker when we’re apart. So we stay together.”
“But there’s no need for your friends to come,” Fox says, scowling at Fly and Clare across the kitchen table.
“We’re coming,” Clare says, her voice trembling slightly. My friend is not used to breaking rules or standing up to authority. She still finds Fox terrifying.
“Briony—” Fox begins.
“They’re coming with us,” I tell him. “It’s their choice, and they want to come.”
Dray groans. “Hardly going to be inconspicuous, then, are we?”
“No, we’re not,” I say. “But I think things will be different for us in Slate. There’s no great love for the Empress or the shadow weavers or even the realm out in Slate. And if we tell them what’s really been happening, I think they’ll be on our side.”
“Really?” Dray says skeptically. “They treated you like shit out in Slate Quarter. You really think they’re going to treat you differently now?”
“Yes,” I say, with a little bitterness. “Because I have magic. A dragon. And all of you.”
I want to leave almost immediately, but it’s not as simple as that. We’re leaving all the students behind, and we have a responsibility to them now.
Fox has them gathering in the Great Hall. He stands on the platform facing them, and it’s clear to me that this is the man who should have been running the academy all along rather than lingering unseen in the shadows. He’s powerful, commanding,and confident, and that confidence spreads among the students as he speaks.
He tells them they’re safe here at the academy, that the castle will protect them. He selects some students to be in charge and he promises them we’ll all return.
They’re already beginning to organize themselves as we stroll out onto the field, bags on our backs, supplies packed, to find Blaze curled up in the last splash of evening sunshine.
I tie another magical leash around his neck and we all link hands again, Fly and Clare joining our circle this time.
And then we displace away from the field in the Firestone Academy and out to the far reaches of the realm – to the wild, sprawling forest that runs the length of Slate Quarter.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Fox
It’s been many, many, many years since I last stepped foot in Slate Quarter, but as time and space halt their spinning around me and my feet meet the hard earth, it is all so familiar; the stench of the place, the suffocating smog in the air, the bitter temperature, the bare skeletal trees and the dark gray sky. It’s depressing and bleak, and yet something stirs in that dead heart of mine.
This is home, where I belong. There was a time when I hated it so much. A time when I was prepared to give my soul just to leave this place. But I could never leave it behind completely. It will always be a part of me. It shaped me, and it shaped the girl I love. I will never be able to shake this place from the person that I am.
Beside me, Briony takes in her surroundings as well, and I see her shake her head slightly, steeling her shoulders, bracing herself. This place has few happy memories for her. Despite her words that we’d be welcomed, I doubt deep down she truly believes that.
“Where the fuck are we?” Dray asks, glancing around our surroundings with clear disgust.
“We’re in the forest that borders the main Slate Quarter town,” I explain. “The place where both Briony and I grew up.”
“In fact, that is where I grew up,” Briony says. “Right there.” She lifts her hand and points through the bare trees toward the edge of the forest.
A dirt track skirts the last few trees, and there are several dwellings lined up against the road, although it’s hard to call any of them ‘dwellings’. They’re more like hovels.
I know I had a better life than Briony in Slate Quarter – nothing like that of the Princes or even Briony’s friends, Fly and Clare – but I never realized just how gilded my life was compared to Briony’s. The house walls are made from mud bricks, bowing in places, crumbling in others, and the roof is a slab of corrugated iron, rusted and warped by the cold weather. A low wall runs around the place, and inside is thick mud. A couple of animals hover together for shelter.
“That’s it? That’s your home?” Thorne asks.
“Was my home,” Briony corrects.
We’re all silent; even her friend who rarely stops talking.
“Where do you think the stones are?” I ask Beaufort, turning my back on the place, hoping to distract Briony’s attention away from the house.
It doesn’t work. She just keeps staring at it.
