Page 79 of Taste of Thorns
“I don’t know how you do that,” I say.
“Consequences,” she says, patting the dragon on the head. “He knows that if he doesn’t behave, he’s not going to get his tummy rubs.”
“Right,” the professor says, recapturing all our attention. “If you’re done, can we begin?”
I nod.
“I’m so excited to see this,” Fly squeals, joining Clare on the log.
The professor glares at him, and he lifts his hand in apology and makes a thing of smacking his lips together.
“Briony,” Fox instructs me, “find the light in your blood and call it forth.”
I glance at my friends. Doing this is becoming easier each time I try, but I’ve never tried to do it in front of an audience before and I can’t help feeling self-conscious.
But if this magic is actually going to be of use to me, I’m going to need to be able to call it forth whenever I want – audience or no audience.
I close my eyes, try to block out the noise of Blaze purring and Fly fidgeting on his seat.
I find that sensation flickering all around my body, vibrant and strong. I reach for it and it comes gliding into the palm of my hand, illuminating the clearing in a bright light.
“Oh my goodness,” I hear Fly gasp and when I open my eyes, I find both my friends standing on their feet and gazing at me in wonder. Blaze is watching me too, his golden eyes reflecting the light radiating from my palms.
It takes me completely by surprise and I lose the connection, the light disappearing like a candle snuffed out, plunging us all back in darkness.
“I’ve never seen anything like that before,” Fly says, sounding spell-bound and making me blush nearly as hard as Clare did earlier.
“Me neither, that was so pretty,” Clare adds.
“Beautiful but also powerful,” Fox states.
“More powerful than shadow weaving?” Clare asks.
“Potentially. If she keeps practicing,” Fox faces me, “I believe she’ll be a force to be reckoned with.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Briony
Every time I think I’m that much closer to learning the truth about my sister’s death, to understanding what in all the realm is going on at this academy, I hit a stupid and very solid brick wall.
Because, despite the death of Esme Jones, despite the fact that Professor Cornelius hinted that it is often the most talented students who die in the trials, students like my sister, I’m no closer to actual answers.
It frustrates me all through lessons the next day and I’m barely aware of the chatter around me or the information imparted by the various teachers.
The Madame has to be behind all of this, doesn’t she? Who else could it be? And yet, as hard as I try, I can’t remember my sister ever mentioning the Madame in the few letters I did receive from her. I don’t even know for sure that the Madame was at the academy at the same time as my sister.
By the time I return to my room after dinner that evening, I’m so incredibly frustrated I could scream. I stump around myroom, snapping off my uniform and flinging the clothing across the room before collapsing down in a huff on my mattress. As I do, my heel hits the object hiding under my bed.
The yearbooks I took from the library.
I jump right back up onto my feet feeling incredibly stupid.
Of course! I have a source at my fingertips – right under my bed – with exactly the information I’m searching for.
I lower myself onto my stomach and reach under my bed, sliding out one of the record books. I heave it onto my lap once again and flick through the pages. There are so many of them with never-ending detailed recordings. I don’t know how I’m ever meant to find what I’m looking for. It’s like hunting for a needle in a haystack.
Or a book in a magical library!
