Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Briony
I wake in the morning with a pounding head and a very dry mouth. Plus four large men sleeping around me. In fact, I’m buried under an array of arms and legs, and it takes me several minutes to untangle myself and slip from the makeshift bed without waking any of them.
I pull on some clothes, tiptoe to the door, sneak out onto the landing, and make my way downstairs.
Clare and Fly are both still sound asleep in the front room, each of them occupying one of the sofas. Fly’s buried somewhere beneath a stack of blankets and Clare spread out on her back, snoring.
I make my way to the kitchen in search of water and find Mrs. Tudor already there kneading dough, Barney waiting patiently by her feet. He’s taken a shine to her, most probably on account of the bone she gave him yesterday.
“Good morning, dear,” she says. She glances down at Barney. “Such a well-behaved boy.”
“He is,” I say, coming over to scratch behind his ears and let him lick at my face.
“I didn’t think any of you would be up for a long time,” Mrs. Tudor says.
“I’m so thirsty,” I explain.
She nods and pours me some water from a bottle she keeps on the counter. I’m guessing she doesn’t trust the water in the taps. I take a long gulp.
“Is Mr. Tudor still sleeping?” I ask.
She laughs. “No. He left for the mine several hours ago.”
“He did?” I say, peering towards the window. Morning’s only just stirring. It’s still pretty gray outside. He must have left when it was still pitch black. I wonder how he’s able to work in the mines with his bad knee. But I don’t say anything. We all know how hard it is in Slate Quarter.
“How’s your head this morning?” she asks me next, when I finish the water.
“Better for that,” I say. “But I’m feeling a bit on the queasy side.”
“Take a seat,” she says. “I managed to get some eggs this morning.”
What I’m desperately in need of is coffee, black as night. That’s not something anyone can get hold of here in Slate Quarter, though, so I have to make do with tea, stirred with a lot of honey. I sip it while Mrs. Tudor beats the eggs.
“Is it just the wine?” she says as she lights the stove, “causing the queasy feeling, I mean.”
“Huh?” I say, not catching her meaning at first, and then it dawns on me.
“Oh, no, definitely just the wine. I had an accident a few weeks ago.” I don’t explain to her that it wasn’t an accident at all.
In fact, I was cornered by a group of academy students and beaten to within an inch of my life.
I’m sure she’s worried enough about us all without that added information.
“And they gave me a shot at the clinic to stop, you know, any accidents.”
“Oh good,” she says, “because you’re very young. And with four boyfriends…” She shakes her head and pours the egg mixture into the pan and begins to stir.
A minute later I have eggs fluffier than clouds on my plate and I’m wolfing them down.
“Are you going to go and wake those boys up now?” Mrs. Tudor asks when we’ve both finished our food. “They’ve been sleeping a long time.”
“Actually,” I say, “I’m going to go and check on my dragon. I want to make sure he’s okay.”
“Okay.” Mrs. Tudor stares at me. “Dragon. Right.”
I laugh. “I know it sounds really crazy. I guess it is kind of crazy when I stand back and think about it.”
“Where exactly is this dragon?” she asks me.
“Hiding out in the forest, hopefully,” I say. “Hopefully, he hasn’t wandered off anywhere.”
Mrs. Tudor peers towards the small window, like I’d done a few moments ago. “Don’t you think you’d better take those boys with you? Or the dog?”
“No,” I say. “Let them sleep. And Barney’s been through enough. I’ll be fine. No one’s really going to notice me. They never really did in Slate.”
“I find that hard to believe. You’re a very pretty girl. I’m hardly surprised those boys are nuts about you. Especially Fox. He’s clearly head over heels in love with you.”
“You think?”
“It’s something a mother can see almost immediately.”
“I’m very much in love with him too.”
She reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. “I know, dear. It warms my heart to see it. Which is why I’m not keen on letting you out there alone. I’m not sure he’d forgive me if anything happened to you.”
“It won’t,” I say. “I’m good at blending in and disappearing.
But I do need some different clothes.” I peer down at mine.
They’re not glamorous clothes like the shadow weavers wear.
But they still look much better than anything anyone in Slate is wearing.
And I’m sure it will draw attention to me and cause raised eyebrows.
Mrs. Tudor pushes back her chair and disappears, returning a moment later with her old coat. It’s worn and patched in places and just what I need. It’s a perfect disguise.
“Thank you,” I say, putting my arms into the sleeves, doing up the buttons, and yanking up the hood. “I’ll be back soon.”
“If they wake up, I’ll tell them where you went and I’ll probably get a big lecture from my son,” she mutters.
I give her a thankful smile and step out into the gloom.
Despite the fairly early hour, Slate Quarter is already bustling with people, most of them on the way to work or heading back after a night shift. So I take the route that Fox showed us yesterday, heading around the back of town.
I pass only a few people out this way and they take no notice of me. Soon I’m out in the woods, being sure to avoid my old home.
Blaze is not where we left him.
Fear grips me for a moment until I hear noise deeper in the forest. I race that way and find him curled around several trees, bones scattered around his sleeping form. I don’t look too closely at the bones. I don’t want to know if he’s been raiding people’s sheep or goat herds.
I step closer and he stirs, lifting his great head and purring when he spots me. I come closer and stroke his long snout, kissing his smooth gold scales.
“A dragon, eh?” a voice says somewhere in the trees behind me, making me jolt out of my skin. The dragon growls.
But I recognize that voice. It’s my dad.
“He’s yours?” my dad asks when I make no response.
“Yes,” I say, not turning around to acknowledge him.
“You’ve really landed on your feet, haven’t you?” he says. And I can’t tell if there’s bitterness or admiration in his voice. Maybe there’s a mixture of both.
I don’t answer either way. Because in some ways I have, haven’t I?
All these people I have now in my life who love me and care about me and who I love and cherish back.
And yet it hasn’t been an easy path to get here.
There have been many times my life has been in danger, where I’ve endured pain, ridicule, and abuse.
My life is still hanging in the balance now.
I haven’t reached my happy ending just yet. There’s a good chance I won’t at all.
I hear my dad’s footsteps crunching through the snow and then he appears in my peripheral vision.
“I’m pleased for you, Briony. I really am,” he says, eyeing the dragon with a mixture of fear and wonderment. “Those boys, the ones you were with, they’re from Onyx Quarter, aren’t they? Seemed like powerful shadow weavers to me. You think they’ll take you there? You think they’ll keep you?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
I could tell him everything – that right now a happy life in Onyx Quarter is looking very unlikely. After all, we’re traitors to the realm.
“Maybe if they do,” he continues, “when you’re settled, you’ll think of your old dad back in Slate Quarter, won’t you? You were always a good girl. You both were. Always kind to your old dad.”
I close my eyes. The pain inside is insufferable.
I should tell him no. I should point out he never extended that kindness, never considered me in his thoughts. If he had, maybe my time in Slate Quarter, those last few years, wouldn’t have been so hideous.
But I’m not that kind of person.
It was my sister who raised me more than he did. And she was kind, with a heart of gold. She never held a grudge. She always thought of others. Some would say that made her a pushover.
I think I’m more hardy than her. I think it’s taken a lot to crack through that hard shell I’d formed to protect me, to that softness deep within me.
But I am like her in lots of ways. And I know if things do turn out well – if I do land my happily ever after – I won’t be able to turn my back on my dad. Even if he probably deserves it.