Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Briony
Several of the soldiers scream in alarm. Their gazes dart around in horror and confusion, and then, to my utmost surprise, one displaces. Then another. And another. Until only a handful remain: the two guarding Fly, the one holding Clare, and a couple of others.
“You’re outnumbered,” Beaufort says, strolling up onto the stage and peering down at the now-lifeless form of Sterling. “So you have a choice. Join us, or get the hell out of here.”
Two of the soldiers displace immediately. The one holding Clare flicks his gaze around the five of us.
“What do you mean, join you?” he asks.
“I think you know,” Beaufort says, walking to Fly, taking hold of his arm, and pulling him away from the two soldiers still lingering in stunned shock.
“What you’ve been told is lies. I think that’s why you’re still here.
You know we’re not traitors. You know there’s something strange about all this.
And I think you want to be on the right side of history. ”
“What is the truth then?” the soldier asks.
“That the Empress has been killing lumomancers like me,” I say. “That the shadow weaver emperors and empresses have been doing so for hundreds of years to stop my people from returning.”
“Why would we care if magical people like you came back? Lumomancers are weak. That’s why they disappeared in the first place,” he says.
The Professor scoffs. “You really believe she’s weak? You saw how she took on Sterling, didn’t you?”
The soldier’s gaze returns to me. He releases Clare, pushes her forward.
“I don’t know what I believe,” he says, and then he’s gone.
The other two remaining soldiers vanish as well.
Beaufort’s shoulders slump. He shakes his head. “I thought they’d stay. I thought we’d at least be able to convince some of them.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say.
“It does,” Beaufort replies. “Because the only way I see us getting out of this alive is if we change things here, Briony – if we overthrow the Empress. And if we have any chance of doing that, we’re going to need all the help we can get.”
I don’t respond. I don’t know what to say. I’m not like him. I’ve never had people look to me with anything but derision – or simply look right through me. I’m not the person to lead a revolution.
I climb onto the stage and stride up to my best friend.
I’m about to wrap my arms around him and tell him he’s okay now, but just like the white wolf had come bolting earlier, now a tall redheaded boy does exactly the same.
He barrels right past me, flings himself at Fly, and wraps him in a tight embrace.
He’s sobbing and crying, and I catch words like “I thought you were going to die” and “so glad” and “I love you Boo-Boo”.
Fly hugs the man back, and I realize it’s the same redhead he’s been in an on-and-off relationship with since we joined the academy.
I smile to myself, stepping aside to give them some privacy, and walk over to Clare instead. She’s missing her glasses and she squints at me, blinking rapidly.
“Are you okay, Clare?” I ask her. “Did they hurt you?”
She shakes her head, then sniffles, and tears slide down her cheeks. She wipes them away with her hands, and I hug her.
“It’s going to be okay, Clare,” I tell her, even though I have no idea if it will be or not.
I’m so busy whispering to her, I don’t hear the other people gathering around us until a voice calls out: “Is that true, what you just said?”
I release Clare and turn around.
A few of the students who had stood in the crowd earlier are back, peering up at Beaufort, who still stands in the middle of the stage, exactly where Sterling had stood only moments ago.
“You heard what I said to the soldiers?” Beaufort asks. They all nod. “Yes, it’s all true. Briony is a lumomancer.” He motions my way.
Remembering what Professor Cornelius had said about my magic having the potential to spread like wildfire – to ignite dormant powers in others – I let the light flicker out in front of me. A great big ball of golden light. The crowd forming again oohs and aahs in wonder.
“Her sister was one too,” Professor Tudor says, walking onto the stage beside Beaufort.
There’s whispering. He hasn’t been seen in days, and rumors have likely been swirling about where he was. Now he’s back, defending me, and standing beside a royal shadow weaver.
“Briony’s sister was a light wielder, and they killed her – just like they killed Esme Jones and probably many other students too.”
“Because they could wield light, like Briony can?”
“We think so,” I say.
“But why? Why would they kill people with powers? We need all the help we can get in defending the realm from the demons. Why would they do that? It makes no sense,” a short boy near the front of the crowd says, frowning and shaking his head as if determined not to believe us.
More people join the crowd. I spot Stanley and his friends lingering at the back.
“Once upon a time,” the Professor says, “lumomancers and shadow weavers lived side by side – a time when there was more freedom, more choice, more equality. But then the shadow weavers wanted more power and more control. They fought the lumomancers to take control of the realm. But they went too far. They wiped them out completely. And in the process, that act of deep evil – of darkness – created the demons that still threaten our realm today.”
“Exactly!” Stanley snarls from the back. “They threaten our realm. If what you say is true, they’d want the lumomancers back to help us rid the world of demons once and for all.”
“No,” Beaufort says. My gaze snaps to him. “Because who does this world suit the most? Who has the most to gain from everything staying exactly as it is?”
There’s silence – uncertain, hesitant – until a girl near the front, Naomi, Esme Jones’s girlfriend, says quietly: “The shadow weavers.”
“Exactly,” Beaufort says. “Shadow weavers like me.”
Several students stare at him in disbelief. Others mutter to one another.
I understand their astonishment. When I met Beaufort Lincoln, he was the most arrogant, self-entitled man I’d ever met. He believed he deserved everything he had in life – every luxury, every privilege, every ounce of power.
He’s changed so much.
More than I ever believed a person could change.
And my heart swells inside my chest.
I think I fall a little bit more in love with Beaufort Lincoln.
“Do you think there could be other lumomancers among us?” Naomi asks next.
Beaufort looks my way. I clear my throat.
“I think … what I mean to say is, yes. I think … I think maybe there could be several among the students,” I say, glancing back her way.
“Bullshit. That’s absolute bullshit.”
I half expect it to be Stanley, but the accent is all wrong. When I gaze that way, I see Kratos, his bond brothers, and several of the other shadow weavers, all dressed in their bright, expensive, shiny clothes, the air of arrogance hanging about them like something tangible and visible.
I know it’s stupid, but I’d forgotten all about them – forgotten they would be here somewhere in the academy and that they’re unlikely to be our friends. Even more unlikely to take our side.
“It’s not bullshit,” the Professor counters. “It’s the truth.”
“No, it’s not,” Kratos says, pushing his way through the crowd, the other shadow weavers following him as the other students quickly scatter to clear their path.
Kratos stops right at the edge of the stage and scowls up at Beaufort.
“You’re traitors,” he snaps. He glances toward the white wolf, who sits guarding the body of Sterling. “And everything you say is treason, Beaufort Lincoln.”
The way the two men scowl at each other – their magic prickling in the air – tells me just how personal the animosity between them is.
And yeah, it’s damn obvious. There’s no way the shadow weavers in the academy are going to let us leave without a fight.