“I’m not sure exactly,” Beaufort mutters. “I was sort of hoping we’d get here and Briony would feel that tug again and it would take us straight there…” He trails off because Briony is walking toward the edge of the forest, toward that dirt track and that house.
“Briony?” I call after her. “We don’t have to go there. There’s no reason.”
“There is,” she says, not slowing her pace or turning around.
I glance at the dragon. I have no idea if he listens to me or even understands me, but I try my best.
“Stay,” I tell him. “You’re safe here and well hidden. Don’t go anywhere unless we need you.”
The dragon snorts smoke straight into my face, but settles down onto his stomach, and I’m hoping that means he’s going to obey me.
Then all of us are hurrying to catch Briony up.
We cross the dirt track, deep pot marks frozen with puddled water, and then we’re at the wall surrounding the house. An old dog, curled up with two pigs and a goat, lifts its head, squints its milky eyes at us, sniffs at the air, and then it’s bounding to its feet and racing right over to us, stopping by the old wooden gate, barking and jumping despite its stiff legs and old age.
“Barney!” Briony exclaims, swinging back the gate and letting the old dog rush at her. He yaps and barks, attempting to jump up at her, and she crouches down and lets him slurp at her face as she wraps her arms around him and lays kisses all over his head.
“Who the hell is this?” Dray says.
From somewhere behind us I can hear the dragon growling too. I’m guessing both of Briony’s pets are not liking the competition.
“This is Barney,” Briony explains, running her hand down the dog’s spine as he shudders in delight. “He’s my dog. Oh, it’s so good to see you, boy. So good to see you.”
The dog yelps some more in agreement and as he does, the door to the house creaks open. I notice Briony’s spine stiffen automatically, and all our gazes swing that way.
“Barney, quiet! What’s all that noise?” an old man starts to say from the doorway, and then halts abruptly when he spots all of us gathered around his gate.
He has a gray scraggly beard across his chin and dirty gray hair that falls into his bright green eyes. Eyes I recognize. There’s no doubt who this man is.
Briony’s father.
My hands curl into fists automatically.
“Br-Br-Br-Briony?” he gasps in amazement, hobbling out of the doorway and onto the doorstep. His clothes are as dirty as his hair, worn and creased, holes in the knees of his pants and the cuffs of his old shirt frayed. He has nothing on his feet and they’re black with dirt, his toenails gnarled and yellow. When he speaks, I see his teeth are just as yellow, several missing from his mouth.
Briony always said he was a drunk, and I realize just how much of a bad drunk he must be. The man is incapable of looking after himself.
“Is that you?” he says, frowning, eyes flicking suspiciously around the group surrounding my fated mate.
Briony stands to her feet, the old dog continuing to jump around her legs, though he’s quiet now, as if sensing the tension in the air.
“Yes, Dad. It’s me.”
“But what are you doing here?” he asks. “Shouldn’t you be at the academy?” He frowns in confusion, and his words are slurred. Even from here I can tell he’s been drinking today. In fact, he must have spent most of his day drinking. “Is it over? Have they sent you back? Back to Slate?”
“No, Dad, the year’s not over yet, or the trials, but some stuff’s happened. It’s all rather complicated.”
“And who are these people? What are you doing with my daughter?” he asks, swaying on his feet as he tries to focus on us.
“These are my friends,” Briony says.
“Friends?” Dray mutters behind us, but Briony ignores him.
There’s silence again, more awkwardness. Briony reaches down to tickle her fingers across the old dog’s head.
“Do you want to come in, then?” the old man asks, pushing back the front door.
The action makes Briony jolt. I bet there are bad memories lurking inside that house, ones I’d like to wipe away for her completely.
