Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Briony
After dinner we find ourselves back in the front room with more bottles of Mr. Tudor’s home-brewed alcohol, Barney bagging a spot in front of the fire and Mrs. Tudor attempting to encourage us all to drink water and stay hydrated.
“I’m all for you having a good time,” she says, “but I think Thorne is right.” She smiles at my quiet, stoic mate, who’s attempting to maintain his quiet and stoic persona despite the fact I’m balancing on his knee and probably embarrassing the heck out of him.
“Have fun. But keep a clear head too. You never know what might happen.”
Both Fox’s parents have a lot more questions about the academy, Onyx Quarter, the palace, about my sister, the trials, and my magic.
They also want to know about the demon wastelands, Madame Bardin, and what we discovered in that secret room in the library.
Mrs. Tudor keeps shaking her head in disbelief and muttering under her breath, “My oh my, who would believe it?”
Mr. Tudor has a completely different reaction. His jaw becomes tighter and tighter the more he learns, more and more anger flashing in his eyes.
“If I could get my hands on that woman,” he mutters, “I’d wring her neck.”
“She’d kill you before you got the chance,” Dray says simply, helping himself to more of the wine.
Fly obviously decides the topic of conversation is too dark and too depressing, because a few minutes later he has Clare and Mrs. Tudor on the sofa with him and he’s explaining in detail the different hairstyles and makeup fashions we saw at the palace in Onyx Quarter.
And in the next moment he’s attempting to create one of the hairstyles on Mrs. Tudor herself.
I swivel around on Thorne’s lap and smile at him. I’m definitely a little bit drunk – the room is swaying – and I’m pretty sure my next words come out slurred.
“You okay, grumps?” I boop him on the nose and he frowns at me. Then, to my surprise, he leans forward and whispers in my ear.
“I never appreciated how hard it would be keeping my hands off you. Now I can touch you, Nini, all I want to do is pull you onto my cock.”
And I can’t help it – I’m drunk, my life has been in constant danger for the last few days, and I’m probably slightly losing my senses – but I giggle. Thorne pouts at me, obviously not appreciating my response to his attempt at dirty talk.
I try to suppress the giggle and form a straight expression on my face.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s just I’m not used to hearing you speak like that. You’re usually so polite.”
Thorne pouts even harder and that sets me giggling again.
It starts low in my belly. And the way he looks at me with disdain and impatience and very little amusement has that laughter spreading through my body and completely taking control until I’m having to hang on to my stomach and tears – actual tears – are rolling down my cheeks and I can hardly breathe.
“I’m glad you find me so amusing,” Thorne says, which makes me snort with laughter even more.
Then, to my absolute delight, he starts tickling me. Right on the sides of my belly. Which has me laughing harder still.
“Don’t,” I say. “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.”
“You deserve it,” he says, continuing to tickle me, “for being so cruel.”
I can’t believe that we can actually be like this together – completely natural, playful. I love it. And I can’t help it, in the next moment, I’m flinging my arms around his neck and kissing him, forgetting that we’re in a room full of people – a room full of people that includes Fox’s parents.
“I apologize for our little mate,” Dray says with amusement. “She can be a little feral at times.”
“Absolutely no need to apologize,” Mrs. Tudor says as I force myself to stop kissing Thorne and spin around to face the room. “Oh, to be young and in love again. And besides, I was pretty wild in my day, I’ll have you know.”
“You were?” Fox says, looking a little distressed.
“Absolutely.”
“She was,” his dad says. “Totally seduced me. Came up to me at a dance, demanded I dance with her, and then halfway through, kissed my face off.”
“I’d been waiting for him to ask me out for a long time,” Tudor’s mom says, “and I got impatient.”
“Were you in the academy together?” I ask.
Tudor’s mom shakes her head. “I’m a couple of years younger than Mervin. And luckily for us, we both completely flunked the academy and ended up back in Slate.”
“Lucky.” Fox sniffs.
“We may not have a lot, Fox,” his mom says, “but we have each other, and we had you. And I’d say those are the most important things a person can have in life.”
“Hear, hear,” his dad says, lifting his glass again.
Fly does the same. And I nod. I remember what life was like when I was alone, with no one who loved me and no one to care for me. I wouldn’t go back to those times for all the money and all the riches in the realm.
“So you met at a dance?” I asked them both.
“Yes, one of the dances at the town hall. Did you ever go to one?” Mrs. Tudor asks me. I shake my head and she smiles at me kindly. She turns to her husband. “Do you remember the song that was playing?”
“How could I forget?” he says. Then he signals to her and she reaches under the old sofa and pulls out a fiddle and a bow, handing it over to him.
Straightening himself out on his stool, he settles the fiddle onto his shoulder, resting his chin on the old instrument and bringing the bow up to the strings.
He plays a few notes and I recognize the song immediately.
It’s an old love song that’s always been popular in Slate Quarter.
Me and my sister used to sing it to one another a lot.
And I’m guessing I must be a lot drunker than I realize, because despite everyone gathered in the room, I close my eyes, and, as Mr. Tudor plays the song on his fiddle, I sing the words.
Everyone else is silent, listening to us. The song isn’t exactly a happy one, pretty sad in fact. A young girl crying over the loss of her true love, lost in a battle long, long ago.
As I sing the words, I think about everything Professor Cornelius told us.
I think about what I read in those lumomancer books back in the library.
There’re hints in this song, in the lines, hints about light, about magic, that I never noticed before.
Or maybe I’m just seeing clues everywhere now, even when they don’t really exist.
We come to the end of the song and Mr. Tudor lowers his fiddle from his shoulder, taking a little bow as everyone in the room claps. Fly even whistles.
“Never knew you could sing so well,” Fly says. “Especially when you wail and scream like a banshee. I assumed your singing voice would be the same.”
“Thanks,” I tell him flatly.
“And Mr. Tudor, you’re a real whiz on that fiddle.”
“Actually,” he says, “it’s Fox who’s the whiz, the real musician.”
My gaze flicks straight to the Professor, who’s standing, leaning against the wall, his hands deep in his pockets.
“You are?”
“He never told you?” his mom says in outrage, snatching the fiddle from her husband and thrusting it at her son.
He looks at it. “It’s been a long time since I’ve played. Probably can’t do it anymore. Probably don’t remember how.”
“Nonsense,” his mom says, shaking it at him. “It’s not something you can forget.”
“Fine,” he says with a sigh, taking the fiddle and the bow, one in each hand. He rests the fiddle on his shoulder, adjusts the strings a little, examines the bow, then leans his chin against the fiddle’s belly and begins to play.
His dad wasn’t exaggerating. He’s really good. And this time he plays something more upbeat and energetic. Something I’m sure has the people in Slate at the old dance hall on their feet.
Dray must have the same thought because he jumps up and says, “Let’s dance.” Except he’s not talking to me. He’s directing his request at Clare.
“Who? Me?” she squeaks, jolting so hard her glasses are knocked askew on the bridge of her nose.
“Yeah, you,” he says, reaching forward, grabbing her hand and yanking her straight up onto her feet. “You’re my favorite dance partner.”
“Me?” she repeats. “But how about Briony?”
“Nah, it’s you,” he says with a big grin. And before she can protest, he’s spinning her around like a madman.
Mrs. Tudor looks to Mr. Tudor and then both of them are up on their feet too. Even old Barney lumbers to his feet and finds the energy to jump about, yapping in excitement.
I slide off Thorne’s lap and hold out my hand.
“I’m not really much of a dancer,” he tells me. “In fact, I’ve never danced. I don’t know how.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “I’ll do the dancing.”
And just like Dray had done with Clare, I reach forward, grab his hand, and drag him up onto his feet, which is mighty hard considering how big and heavy he is.
He stands there like a statue in front of me, but I’m undeterred. I take his hands in mine and tell him to step side to side, copying my moves. He does it pretty much in the same statue-like manner, but it’s a start, and I twirl under his arms and attempt to swing him around.
There isn’t much space in the small front room of the Tudor house and we all bump into each other several times, treading on each other’s toes and sending our elbows into each other’s ribs.
We’re all smiling and laughing, though, and I’m not sure I’ve ever been happier.
In fact, I think in this moment, surrounded by all the people that I love, I think this could be the happiest moment of my life.