Page 112 of Spark of Sorcery
And then there're voices, footsteps like there were in the forest.
Hands lift her from me. A palm rests on my shoulder. Anxious words echo around the sterile corridor but I can make no sense of them.
They whisk her away.
Silence again.
I’m left on my knees, her blood dripping from my hands and onto the white clinic floor.
Chapter Forty-Two
Beaufort
The journey back to the academy drags on for an age. The trucks rattle our bones and have us sliding into one another when we careen around corners. The sooner we graduate and are allowed to displace, the fucking better.
Not that they’d want us to even if we were given permission. They like to keep a watchful eye on us. Don’t want anyone deserting and shirking their responsibilities.
The journey is made even more painful by the fact Kratos is sitting opposite me with a shit-eating grin on his face, every now and again, turning to mutter something I can’t hear over the rumble of the truck in one of his bond brother’s ears.
I don’t know what he’s so happy about. It’s clear Kratos’s one desire in life is to see the three of us toppled from our position as the most powerful shadow weavers of ourgeneration. He’d love for him and his brothers to steal that crown. But if these last four weeks are anything to go by, that is far from likely. Time and time again during this ‘training’ camp, we’ve shown our power and our dominance. Kratos and the others don’t even come close. Not even Henny and her erratic but fierce magic is a threat to our superiority.
So I smile back at him, then close my eyes and try to sleep. It’s impossible. The other thing that’s making this journey a drag, is knowing what’s waiting for me back at the academy.
Our thrall.
Not just our thrall. Our fated mate. Those marks on Thorne’s wrists confirm it.
Not that I’d ever admit it to the others, but I’d begun to wonder myself if I was wrong this time. If the vision in my head was not a vision at all, but some warped creation of my mind, determined to sabotage every plan set for me by tying me to some weakling from Slate Quarter.
But I was right. Am I glad about it?
She’s not weak. The scars on her back prove that. She’s endured torture, grief, ridicule and yet she keeps her head held high and refuses to be cowed.
Fuck, I love that about her.
The truck hits a bump in the road, jolting us about violently on our seats. I open my eyes to find Kratos watching me. I close my eyes again, forgetting all about the other shadow weaver and imagining all the things I’m going to do to our little thrall once I have her in my bed again.
The hours pass, and then Dray’s shaking me awake.
“We’re nearly here,” he says, pointing to the front of the truck. We’re driving through heavy woodland but in the distance, over the canopy of the trees, are the tops of the academy towers.
My stomach spins with excitement. I feel like a little kid.
Another half an hour and we’re weaving through those towers themselves and parking up in one of the courtyards. A small crowd has gathered to welcome us back, among them the thralls standing to one side together, each wearing a golden collar around their neck.
I scan their faces even though she won’t be there. It’s not her style. I should know that by now, and yet I can’t avoid the inevitable disappointment.
“Thrall not here, Lincoln,” Kratos says as we move down the truck and jump out onto the cobbled ground. “I wonder where she could possibly be …”
He grins right in my face and I can see all the golden teeth crowded in his mouth. He strolls away, wrapping his arm around the neck of his thrall and bending down to kiss her mouth. When they break apart, his thrall peers over her shoulder and his arm, and catches my gaze. She smiles right at me too, curling her tongue behind her teeth.
My blood runs icy cold. Immediately, I understand.
“Briony,” I say to the others, striding quickly away, breaking into a run as soon as we’re out of sight of Kratos and the others.
“What’s wrong?” Dray asks as he sprints behind me.
“Didn’t you see the look on Kratos’s face? On his thrall’s face?”
