Page 55 of Taste of Thorns
“For now,” Kratos growls, scrabbling again at the shadows wrapped around his throat, “but you need to watch your backs. We’re getting stronger and then we’re going to come for you.”
“I look forward to that day,” I say, punching my shadows against his face and hearing his nose smash, and then me and Dray are striding to the other side of the gymnasium just as Thorne and the Titan twins enter.
Thorne peers over at the bloodied and busted Hardies and then at us, his face as passive as always.
“They admitted they were behind the attack on Briony in the forest. They say no one put them up to it. But they were lying,” I tell Thorne. “I’m sure of it. Someone put them up to this.”
Dray nods, then turns his gaze away from Thorne and towards me. “But what did Kratos mean – why the hell would he think they’re getting stronger?”
“His magic was more powerful,” I concede reluctantly in a whisper so that none of the other kids in this gymnasium can hear me.
Dray looks at me, then laughs. “Nah,” he says. “That ain’t possible.”
“I’m serious,” I tell them both. “I don’t know how, but he’s gotten stronger.”
“Shit,” Dray says, shaking his head as he rocks up and down on his toes. “I don’t like it.” His gaze slides to mine. “Know what I dislike even more?”
“What?”
“Being apart from our thrall.”
I sigh, scrubbing my hands through my hair.
Yeah, me too. Time I did something about it.
Chapter Eighteen
Briony
I’ve just got back from another lesson with Fox and I’m lying on my stomach on my bed, the covers gathered all around me, when my bedroom door flings back and Beaufort Lincoln comes stomping inside. His face is full of thunder, his eyes like lightning in a stormy sky.
“You know it’s polite to knock,” I point out, my eyes not leaving the book I’m reading.
“Want to tell me about the writing on your door?” he hisses.
I roll my eyes and mark my page.
“Me and Fly fancied sprucing up my door.”
“Briony, I can see that word buried underneath all the paint.”
“Just assholes,” I say.
“Why haven’t you removed it?”
“Me and Fly have tried. It’s permanent ink or something. I’ve tried soap and water, nail polish remover, bleach. In the end we decided to embrace it.”
“Did you try magic to remove it?”
I give him my most unimpressed look. “You know I don’t know how.”
He smirks at me, lifts his hands and in a matter of seconds his dark shadow magic is racing over the door, sweeping away the large red letters buried under Fly’s design. Then he kicks the door shut.
“You know who did it?”
“No, and if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.” I slam closed my book. “Besides, it’s a pretty accurate description. And I’m fine with that.”
“Ahhhh,” he says, dipping his head, to meet my gaze full on. I turn my head away. “You’re not a–”
