Chapter 51
Chapter Fifty-One
Briony
One month later
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Beaufort says, as he holds the lapel of my jacket and fastens the remaining button beneath my chin.
“You know that’s not true,” I tell him, tilting my head to one side.
“It is,” he insists, not letting go of my coat. “There are other lumomancers now, Briony. Strong ones. And together with the shadow weavers, they can do this job. There’s no need for you to go out there again.”
I cover his hands with my own and smile up at him.
“Everything’s still so unstable and uncertain, Beaufort.”
“We’re getting there,” he says.
“We are,” I agree, nodding.
For once, Henrietta, it seems, was correct. The people of this realm have accepted Beaufort as their new emperor with little fuss and little protest. It helps, of course, that there’s been no campaigns of retribution. No calls for revenge. No crusades for punishment.
The dead have been buried and honored – including Clare, laid to rest by her family, surrounded by the friends who loved her, back in Granite Quarter.
Pain has been acknowledged and apologies accepted.
We all understand that there can be no shadow without light and no light without shadow.
Shadow weavers and light wielders must live together side by side in peace.
Fate demands this balance and without it only darkness can prevail.
It also helps that Beaufort has made promises to change things, promises to bring democracy to this realm, to end the Firestone Trials and dismantle the different Quarters.
It also helps that together we’ve already begun to make progress on those promises.
We’ve visited all four of the Quarters, listening to the people of this realm, understanding what they want from the future, sharing our vision for a better, fairer world.
The Emperor’s Council is no longer made up of a crowd of sycophantic selfish yes-men, or power-hungry leeches. Now it contains representatives from every realm, young and old, people who’ve been chosen because they want to build a different world.
But everything is still so new. And the people need belief in their new Emperor. And in me.
“Words are all well and good, Beaufort. But actions are more important. You must know that by now.”
He pulls me a little closer toward him. “I know it very well,” he growls into my ear, kissing my neck.
“We need to show the people of this realm that their well-being, their welfare, and their safety are our most important priority. So don’t you see? It has to be us this time.”
He groans, releasing me and my coat. “I hate it when you talk sense, sweetheart.”
“No, you hate it when I’m right and you’re wrong.” I grin at him.
He shakes his head, kisses my mouth, and then I take his hand and we walk back out to the palace courtyard where the others are already waiting for us.
There’s a ring of soldiers, officials and other well-wishers including Fly, Arabella, Blaze, and the two new little dragons – fluttering around and causing mischief as Beaufort’s sister claps her hands in delight and my dragon billows smoke in annoyance.
Arabella and Blaze have taken a strong liking to one another, and I’m being plagued daily by requests to take Arabella on a flight around the castle grounds on the back of the dragon.
It’s clear she’s hoping, with me gone away on this quest, she’ll be able to ride Blaze alone.
And I’ve made it clear to Blaze that that is strictly forbidden.
I’m not sure if either of them are going to obey those orders while we’re gone, though.
We say our farewells, squeezing Arabella, kissing Fly, patting Blaze, and reissuing advice and instructions about the two new baby dragons.
And then, in a whip of air, the five of us displace back to where the border once stood between our realm and the demons’ – the place where the magic barrier once protected us.
It’s gone now, although there are remnants of it sparkling on the ground, great broken fragments, and the air here is dusty and dark.
“So we really are doing this?” Dray asks.
It’s not only Beaufort who’s tried to convince me it’s not necessary. Dray isn’t exactly a fan of returning to the demon wastelands either. He peers out across the landscape toward the grayness that lies beyond and screws up his forehead.
“Looks different somehow, don’t you think?”
And as we stride forward, crossing the point where the two realms once met, it’s clear he’s right.
It’s not like it was the last time we were here. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still nasty. Just not as nasty as it was.
That weight of despair, that gloominess that hung in the air, does not seem so vast or so potent. The dust seems to have dispersed and is no longer so thick, swirling in the air around us.
The five of us stop, surveying the landscape.
And then Fox says, “Look.”
He’s tipped his head back and he’s staring up into the sky.
The four of us copy his movements and see immediately what he means. The sun’s rays are struggling feebly through the thick layer of clouds, and some of them have succeeded in squeezing through.
That too is different.
The sun, the stars, the moon had all been invisible from this place last time.
“Something’s changed,” I say, stating the obvious. “What can it mean?”
“The light’s been restored now,” Fox says. “Maybe that’s why.”
We scan the horizons and the skies, looking for signs of demons, but there are none yet.
We know where we need to go this time. There’s no need for a long trek across this bleak landscape and I’d rather avoid the Valley of Bones anyway. So we link hands, not keen to lose anyone out here.
“Are you ready?” Fox asks not just me, but the others too. We all nod. “We need to be ready to strike immediately. We mustn’t give them any chance.”
We all nod again.
It’s funny, but faced with a task like this, months, weeks, maybe even days ago, my belly would have been full of fear.
I wouldn’t have admitted it, but I would have been frightened, scared of the consequences, fearful of all the things that could go wrong.
But I’m no longer afraid of anything anymore, really.
Not when I have these four men by my side.
Not after everything. I trust them implicitly with my heart, with my life.
I know they feel the same. And I know together we are unstoppable.
We displace again. This time back to Crow’s Fault. To the place where we’d faced the Madame. To the place where she’d held Fox captive. To the place where that savage tornado of dark shadow magic loomed large over the landscape.
My feet land on the dusty earth. I open my eyes.
This too has changed.
That fierce wind has died away. The sky no longer hangs so oppressive and dark. And that tornado seems to spin with less force.
One thing hasn’t changed, though. The demons still sweep in and out of that swirling mass.
We don’t give them a chance to notice us.
We combine our magic, something that’s becoming easier and second nature to the five of us, and send it shooting through the gray air toward that towering mass.
It hits it with an almighty thwack and the tower of shadows trembles, swaying first one way and then the other.
It sends the demons into a frenzy. They squawk and crow, flying manically about, so manically they crash into one another, slam against each other’s bodies, slicing through wings and sinewy skin.
The giant tornado seems to push back. It’s like the giant trunk of a tree unwilling to be felled.
I grit my teeth, furrow my brow, and push with all my might, forcing my light forward and with it my mates’ shadow magic too.
The tornado howls, and the demons are even more frantic now, unable to discern which way is up, which way is down. Crashing to the ground. Fighting one another in their confusion.
The air is thick with ash from these dead creatures, and I cough, screwing shut my eyes against the force of it.
“Keep going,” Thorne urges us all.
And we do, even though my arms are now trembling, my back aches, and my legs feel weak. I keep pushing against the force. I can feel it at the very end of my magic, so dark and so evil. It sends shivers of ice racing down my spine.
I’m on the verge of giving up, of admitting defeat, of thinking that maybe we aren’t powerful enough after all.
But we are.
Because there’s a loud screech.
And the tornado rips in half. Like a tree struck by lightning.
The dark magic cascades and spins chaotically away, and we’re forced to duck, falling to the ground as bits of it shoot over our heads, exploding onto the earth.
Some of it shoots up into the sky, far up into the heavens, and the rest of it just seems to disperse away like dirt dissolving into water.
When it’s safe enough, I remove my hands from my head and raise my eyes.
The gigantic tornado is no more. It’s gone. Just dust floating to the ground now, not one demon in sight.
“We did it,” I say.
And as if to prove my words are correct, those thick blankets of dark clouds overhead roll away. And bright sunshine strikes down toward the ground.
It lights up this world, this wasteland, this once uninhabitable realm, painting color into every object it touches.
The old tree stumps. The great fault in the earth. The ground we’re lying on. The sunlight paints them with browns and reds, ochres, even greens.
It remains a barren wasteland. There’s no real sign of life, apart from the five of us lying on our bellies, and yet it’s so much more beautiful than it was just a moment ago.
I climb back to my feet, brushing off the dust and dirt and ash from my head and my body. The others do the same.
Dray looks out toward the horizon that must have lain all this time behind that tornado, where brown earth meets blue sky.
“We could go exploring,” he says. “See what’s out there. What lies beyond.” He looks back at me, joy and excitement in his colorful eyes. “You like an adventure, don’t you, Little Kitten?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head dramatically. “No, I don’t. I’ve had enough adventures to last me a lifetime. All I want to do now is sit somewhere quiet with the four of you.”
“Life’s not going to be quiet, Briony,” Beaufort points out. “You occupy the throne.”
“You do,” I counter, although most people I talk to act as if the five of us share the throne together. “And that’s just temporary.”
“Still not going to be a quiet life,” Fox says.
“Definitely not,” Dray says. “Especially when the pups arrive.”
“Pups?” I cry.
“Yeah,” he says, stepping toward me with a grin and laying his hand on my belly. “Can’t wait to start building our own pack, Little Kitten.”
I jab a finger into his chest. “Not yet,” I say. “There’s plenty of time for things like that.”
“There is,” he concedes, drawing me up into his arms.
“And lots of time for practicing.”
“Practice, practice, practice,” he adds. “They say it makes perfect.”
I swoon a little in his arms as my other three mates draw closer.
“I have to admit,” I say, “I do like the sound of that.”
“Of course you do,” Dray says, “because you’re a greedy, needy, little—” I frown at him, “mate,” he finishes.
I laugh, unable to deny that’s true.
And I wonder how it’s possible to feel so happy – so incredibly, delightfully, crazily happy – even out here in the most desolate of places, in a realm once occupied by demons themselves.
I think back to that very first day when I arrived at the academy, when everything had seemed so hopeless, so bleak, and so pointless.
I never imagined I’d make friends, let alone find love.
But I have.
I’ve found all of it.
Found somewhere I belong. Where I’m treasured and protected in the arms of these four men.
And I will treasure and protect them in return.
Yeah, happy doesn’t even begin to describe the way I feel.
“What will we tell those pups,” I say, once we’ve displaced back to Onyx Capital and are strolling through the palace hand in hand. The sun is setting, the sky streaked with scarlet and gold overhead and the approaching night’s air is cool and fresh and fragrant on our faces.
“Kids, not pups,” Fox mutters and I giggle at his bewildered tone.
We’re still getting used to one another, learning about each other with every day that passes.
To outsiders we must look like a strange mismatch of people: the Professor, the Wolf, the Emperor, the Killer and the Girl from Slate.
But fate must have a better eye for this than any mortal, because the five of us work, even if at times we struggle to understand one another.
“Tell them about what, Kitten?” Dray asks me, swinging our entwined hands.
“About all this,” I say. “Everything that’s happened to us. Everything we’ve done.”
It’s Thorne who answers. He has a hold on my left hand and he squeezes it.
“We’ll tell them the truth,” he says. “We’ll tell them the story of how we met, how we fell in love, and how we lived happily ever after.”