Page 125 of Taste of Thorns
“Beau had one of his visions,” Dray tells her.
Our thrall snorts, then bursts into giggles.
“What’s so funny about that?” Dray asks.
“Did you ever consider that Beaufort may be playing all of us?”
“Me?” Beaufort says, pointing to his chest.
“Yes. Maybe he just wanted to hang out with the two of you, but because he’s a man, who couldn’t just say, ‘hey, can we be friends?’, he had to invent some mystical reason instead.”
Dray considers this scenario for several minutes, then shakes his head. “Nah, Beau’s visions are real. Most have already come true.”
“Like?”
“There have been a few,” Beaufort says. “For example, I saw that Lord Hamley would lose his position on the privy council. A year later that happened. I saw that Dray would break his arm falling from a tree – that also came true. There have been others too.”
“Hmmm,” Briony hums.
“What? All of a sudden you don’t believe me?” he says, sounding insulted. “I saw you were my fated mate and now I have the marks to prove it.”
She rolls her eyes. “I believe you, Beaufort.” She takes his hand in hers. “Are there any visions that haven’t come true yet?”
“One,” he says, his tone all of a sudden serious and solemn.
Briony’s eyes flick to him and she slows her pace. “What is it?”
“It was the first vision I ever had.” He scratches his cheek. “It started back when I was a kid. I didn’t understand back then what it was. I thought it was some kind of nightmare. One that would flash into my head during the day as well as the night. It was only later, when I got older and the other visions came, that I understood what it was.”
“Beaufort, what is the vision?”
He halts, Briony’s hand still clasped in hers. “I’m out there, beyond the realm, in the land controlled by the demons. They’re swarming all around me.”
“And what happens? Is that it?”
He shakes his head. “Then there’s this light. Bright and dazzling and all-consuming. And then it ends.”
We’re all silent for a moment and the forest around us is silent too. Not a bird chirping or a branch rustling.
“Do you think that’s me?” Briony asks quietly.
“I don’t know what it means. But now I know what you can do, I think maybe yes.”
We break out of the trees just as the sun crests over the horizon and sends golden rays of light streaming through the mist that covers the moorland beyond. It’s beautiful and for a moment we all stand and watch the golden disc rise up from the underworld and into the creamy blue sky.
Dray stands behind Briony, arms wrapped around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder and I stand one side of her, Beaufort the other.
The landscape is peaceful. No noise, no danger, no interference. Just the four of us.
I wish I could take this moment and bottle it. I wish it could always be like this.
But then a distant bird squawks, the wind whips up and frisks our faces and we move on, passing the deserted railway station the other kids alighted at all those months ago.
We walk along the old train tracks, Dray handing out pastries from his rucksack and then passing around a flask.
“I’m beginning to wonder how I ever functioned without this stuff,” Briony says, taking a large gulp of black coffee. “I must have been walking around like a zombie most of the time.”
“See,” Beaufort says with a smirk, “I told you. There are some advantages to being our thrall.”
