Leaving Fallon and me alone.
Fallon unsheathes her wand and taps it rhythmically onto her palm, her lips curling into a slow grin.
Frantic, my gaze darts toward a door at the back of the room.
Fallon glances that way, her eyes narrowing to mocking slits. “You think you can escape me? And go where?” She spits out a derisive laugh. “You’re all alone. No friends. No Lukas. Everyone has abandoned you.” A gleam of savage glee lights her eyes as she takes in my scandalously red-accented dress. “You look like a whore, which is exactly what you are.” She glances down at my fastmarked hands and her expression of triumph curdles.
I can practically feel the envy radiating from her in thick waves, and I’m suddenly acutely aware of the Ironwood lamppost beside me, magic firing through my lines, my wand hand clenching against the draw of the wood.
And the desire to send my fire straight through Fallon Bane.
Keep hold of yourself! I frantically caution. You wouldn’t just take her down. You’d kill everyone. Sparrow too.
“No one will care if I hurt you,” Fallon crows with vicious smugness, baring her teeth in an aggressive smile. “Lukas and I are with each other now. Did you know that? With his mother’s full blessing.” Her smile turns openly hostile. “We’re meant for each other. He sees that now. He’s no longer blinded by how much you look like your grandmother. No one is.”
She’s posturing, one hand on her hip, her chin high, her foot thrust forward along with her wand. My gaze flits toward her delicately laced shoe, its slim heel so very poorly suited for running.
An idea lights.
Slowly...carefully...I slip my feet from my own pinching, elegant shoes, my heart hammering so hard that it’s dizzying. The moment the stockinged soles of my feet make contact with the Black Walnut flooring, my power gives a hard flare.
Perhaps sensing my inward flare of defiance, Fallon loses her smile, her gaze once again perusing the fastmarks on my hands. “Do you feel the fastlines tighten when Lukas and I embrace?” she taunts, stalking closer and keeping her wand pointed at me. “When he touches me?”
She’s becoming alarmingly aggressive, like a wolf defending its territory, ready to rip me to shreds over it.
Over him.
Fallon springs forward, grabs hold of my arm, and jabs her wand against my throat. I flinch back and freeze, swallowing hard as the cold embrace of her magic pricks ice all over my skin, my stockinged feet tensing against the wooden floor, fire blazing through my lines.
Fallon’s lip curls down into a snarl. “I will not allow you to ruin his life.”
There’s a tussle in the hallway, two women arguing in the Uriskal language. Fallon’s wand is still at my throat as I turn my head a fraction and Sparrow sprints into view.
“Mage!” Sparrow calls out, her eyes wide.
Fallon turns toward Sparrow, her wand dropping down a fraction.
Seizing on Fallon’s split-second loss of focus, I smack her hands away from me, and her wand skitters across the floor.
Then I throw my fist forward and punch her in the face as hard as I can.
Fallon cries out and falls sideways.
Panic rearing, I turn and break into a run through the room, out its back door, and into another long hallway, my heart racing, pain knifing through my wand hand’s knuckles from the punch. I almost lose my footing on the lacquered flooring beneath me but find sudden purchase on a carpet. I hoist my skirts and sprint down the hallway.
Fallon’s scream sends a bolt of fear exploding inside me. “You BITCH!”
I throw myself around a bend just as several icicles slam into the wall behind me, decimating a portrait of our former High Mage.
Stunned by her use of attack magic and fueled by a desperate will to survive, I fly down another hallway, then another, then dive into a populated room, shoving people aside as I run, a gray-haired matron sending up a cry of alarm. I bump into a Urisk woman, her tray of hors d’oeuvres flying clear out of her hands.
There’s a trail of exclamations and crashing in my wake, room after room.
“You SLUT!” Fallon cries out from behind me, fueling my speed. “I’m going to KILL you!”
Ice streams over the crowded floor, the frosty edge of it speeding under my stockinged feet, the room erupting into chaos. I almost slide backward, but my reflexes are prey-sharp. Pulse racing, I duck down, splay my arms out to maintain my balance, and slide over the ice and straight through a side exit.
I smack into the wall before me and roll quickly away from the exit as more ice spikes hurl through it to impale several potted ferns, the pots shattering in a fusillade of porcelain.
More crashing and cursing behind me as I renew my flight, breathlessly realizing that I’ve gained a small time advantage.
She can’t cross the ice quickly in her fancy shoes.
With renewed vigor I take a sharp turn left and loop back in the direction I’ve come from, then duck into a hall going the other direction, with no pattern, desperate to throw her off my trail.
Fallon’s yelling becomes fainter. The music and exclamations of distress muted. The hallway I’m now running down is deserted, the sound of my labored breathing dangerously loud to my ears. A cramp stabs into my side as I run and run, the music now nonexistent. I race down countless hallways and rooms, the lighting increasingly dim, wooden walls giving way to stone.
I spot a door ahead and duck into a deserted room, then stumble to a stop and grasp at the back of a broad chair in the faintly lit room. Doubled over, I catch my breath and listen.
Nothing.
I stare at the black tree pattern on the stone floor as my breathing slows, the cramp in my side loosening to almost tolerable.
I slowly raise my head only to come face-to-face with the oil painting that dominates the entire wall before me.
It depicts an Icaral. An Icaral like Yvan. Being impaled by multiple spears as Gardnerian soldiers lord over him. And above them all, the Ancient One, in the familiar form of the white bird. Looking down upon the gruesome scene with benevolent approval.
My gut wrenches and I fall back as nausea sweeps through me.
I have to get away from here. Away from all of them.
I stumble out of the room’s back exit and lurch down another deserted hall, everything now carved in stone. I race under the elaborate vaulted ceiling, the image of trees embossed on its surface, the smell of salt water growing sharp on the air. Stripes of moonlight mark the stone floor, streaming in from repeating arched windows high up on the stone walls. The sound of the rhythmic lapping of waves is now present, the temperature cooling.
I round a corner, exit through a heavy wooden door, and step onto a deserted balcony.
Wind whips at my hair and I’m immediately accosted by vertigo, waves crashing on rocks far below, the turbulent Voltic Sea spread out before me, that odd line of glowing green stretching over the water in the far distance.
I realize I’m at the rear of the Mage Council Hall, which is built right inside the bluff, the windows on every level of this side blessedly dark. I draw back in awe at the overpowering height of the Styvius Bluff.
Gigantic trees are cut into the flat bluff stone. They rise from a turbulent ocean that crashes against night-blackened rocks at the bluff’s faraway bottom, the waves’ crests a foamy silver in the moonlight. A series of stone stairs and balconies to my left lead ever upward, winding through carved branches and limbs, toward the top of the staggeringly high wall of stone. The network of stairs and balconies terminates close to the bluff’s apex, this last balcony sheltered by a stone canopy of carved leaves. I squint up at the terminal balcony. It curves clear around the bluff, and I wonder where it leads.
Perhaps to a way out.
Trying to ignore the dizzying height, I avoid looking down at the crashing surf and set off at a run up the
stone stairs, across a balcony, then up more stairs and another balcony, ever upward toward the top.
When I reach the highest balcony, I sprint around the bluff’s corner and skid to a dead end.
The balcony is bathed in moonlight. A bench is cut right into the bluff’s stone, carved vines framing it. The view from this balcony is incredible, the height unfathomable. Breathing hard, I cautiously move toward the balcony’s stone balustrade.
I can’t see the Council Hall anymore; the bend in the bluff is too sharp. And I can’t see the city of Valgard, which lies just beyond another sharp, irregular bend in the bluff. I wince as a huge wave crashes onto the black rocks below. More stars make an appearance as the moonlight-limned clouds continue to move out.
I listen carefully for the sound of pursuit.
Nothing.
All voices and music are erased by the ocean and the cliff’s sheer heft.
A brittle panic floods in and I lean in against the balcony edge, gasping in big gulps of air as I look around for something, anything that could be used as a weapon. But there’s nothing but carved stone and some flowers planted in the recesses.
Please, Dear Ancient One, don’t let Fallon follow me up here, I pray as I grasp the railing for support, wishing I’d had the sense to at least bring a knife or any sharp thing.
A harsher panic overtakes me.
How am I going to get out of here? And what happened to Sparrow? If Fallon has lost my trail, will she level her vengeance on her instead? Remorse courses through me at the thought as I realize what a huge mistake it was to come back to Gardneria.
Kam Vin and Chi Nam were so very wrong.
But where else could I go?
Reflexively, I feel for Chi Nam’s rune stone hidden in the base of my dress’s pocket, relying on the subtle calming energy of the smooth stone as my only support as I’m rocked by a sudden, fierce desire to not be so alone in this.
Where are you, Yvan? What are you doing now?
A knot of profound longing for him gathers in my throat as I stare at the pinpoints of stars, at the inky blackness of the Voltic Sea. A sweet aroma rises on the breeze.
Roses.
I turn to regard the moonlit blossoms planted all along the balcony’s inner periphery. Their heady perfume makes me think of my uncle’s flower garden, and another vicious ache takes hold. I press my eyelids firmly together, holding back tears.
I know that if Yvan were here, he’d wrap me in his warm arms, spread his wings, and fly me far away from this awful place. With him, I wouldn’t be trapped.
Something shifts in the air around me and an uneasy tingle starts at the base of my neck. It’s quickly followed by the uncomfortable certainty that I’m being watched.
I turn slowly and search the irregular shadows cast by the overhanging stone-branches, sure that I heard the whisper of something rough moving against stone. Just around the bend.
Silence.
I can’t see anyone, but still the feeling grows.
I peer across the balcony, searching the shadows of the many alcoves cut into the sculpted trees.
It’s my imagination. There’s no one there.
But still, I swear I heard something.
Someone.
The sense that I’m being watched morphs into a palpable feeling of danger so strong that I break out in a cold sweat.
How could I be so foolish as to come up here unprotected? Far away from everyone. So far away that no one would be able to hear me scream.
Who would question it if I were tossed into the ocean and later found washed up on the shore? Who would doubt that it was suicide? An unstable girl, infected by the same evil seed, the same madness as her brothers. And killing me would make it possible for a priest to strip the fasting right from Lukas’s hands, freeing him to fast to Fallon Bane. Just as Sparrow warned me.
The shadows shift...and a figure emerges from around the bend.
I stumble backward as terror swamps me.
Ancient One, have mercy.
It’s not Fallon Bane. It’s worse than her. Much worse.
Damion Bane stands there watching me, wand in hand, his eyes bright with interest.
My gaze darts around as my muscles tense and I ready myself to flee past him.
Damion is staring at me as if he can read my mind, a slow grin forming on his coldly handsome face, and I’ve a stark remembrance of how he used to prey on the Urisk kitchen workers.
“You...you startled me,” I stammer, struggling to keep my tone light.
“Where’s Lukas?” he asks pleasantly, as if playing with me, as if he already knows the answer. I notice his hands and wrists are marked with sealed fastlines.
“He’ll be here shortly,” I lie, my heart pounding. “We...we’re supposed to meet here.” I sweep my hand out toward the ocean. “It’s so beautiful. He wanted to show me the view.”
“Funny,” Damion says as he slowly approaches me, rolling his wand idly in his palm. “I thought he wasn’t supposed to arrive until later.” He draws ever closer and I instinctively step back only to be halted by the stone railing of the balcony behind me. Hyperaware of his wand.
Everything in me wanting to grab hold of it.
You can’t use his wand, I desperately caution myself.
Damion comes to a stop in front of me, an evil glint in his eyes. I recoil as he reaches up to lightly stroke my hair.
“Lukas wouldn’t want you doing that,” I snap, outrage seeping through.
Damion makes no move to back away. “Oh, I know,” he says, as he continues to play with a long strand. “Your devotion to Lukas Grey is so touching.” He leans in closer. “Everyone knows your aunt found you in bed with a Kelt.” He reaches down to grab hold of my hand, eyeing the fasting marks with interest as I wrench my hand away from his. “Vyvian arrived in the nick of time, I’d say.” He laughs and leers at my too-tight, low-cut scarlet clothing. “I heard you were half-naked.” His eyes narrow. “No, Lukas is quite done with you.”
Panic rising, I move to sidestep away from him, but he reacts quickly, sidestepping as well, and grasps hold of my arm, his wand now pointed at my neck.
I freeze, the tip of his wand sharp on my skin.
“You were almost mine, did you know that?” he whispers, leaning in, his breath sickeningly warm on my face.
“What do you mean?” I gasp, the top of the stone railing jutting hard against my lower back.
“Your aunt gave consent for you to fast to me,” he says silkily. “I was there, ready to bind myself to you, when he showed up. It was quite the surprise. No one expected Lukas to be so doggedly persistent in his...affections for you.” His grin fades and his brow furrows in consternation. “I really don’t understand what my sister sees in him. She’s quite upset, you know.”
I give a hoarse cry as he jabs the wand under my chin, forcing my head up. He shoves his body against me, pushing me against the banister, a viciously suggestive gleam in his eyes. “She thinks you should be punished.”
“You’re fasted,” I croak, defiance rising as I grit my teeth. “I’ll tell your fastmate and everyone in that hall if you don’t get off me.”
Damion lets out another contemptuous laugh and pushes the wand even harder into my throat. “You think your little friend Aislinn will defend you? That skinny little thing? All the fight’s beaten out of that pathetic fastmate of mine.”
Aislinn’s face lights in my mind as rage explodes inside me. “You bastard!”
I slam my whole weight against him and lunge for his wand, but he anticipates me, tightening his grip on the wand as my hand closes around his and my forefinger makes direct contact with the wood.
My affinity lines crackle into the shape of jagged tree limbs as power flashes up from the ground, through the stone, fire magic racing toward me, rushing through my affinity lines a
nd suffusing them with pulsating, killing power.
Damion’s eyes go wide with surprise.
The words to the candle-lighting spell dance on my lips, my body trembling with a vengeance begging to be unleashed. But I battle against the fierce urge to let loose with the spell that would incinerate not just Damion, but possibly the whole city of Valgard.
Taking advantage of my hesitation, Damion narrows his eyes with wicked purpose. In the blink of an eye he sends out a spell.
I cry out as vine bindings fly from his wand and cinch tight around my body, the breath forced from my lungs, my limbs instantly trussed tight. Damion hurls me to the ground, and my head hits the stone with a heavy thud.
He’s on top of me in an instant, his eyes bright with excitement as he jabs his wand into my side, his other hand coming around my throat. I struggle for breath as his fingers tighten, his whole body pushed crushingly down on me.
“Oh, I’m going to enjoy breaking you,” he croons as spots flash before my eyes.
I’m beginning to black out as boot heels thud on the balcony floor.
Damion is suddenly lifted off me, and breath rushes back into my lungs in jagged heaves, my vision returning as the vines restraining me dissipate into black smoke.
Lukas is there, his face wild with anger, dragging a stumbling Damion across the stone floor as I pull in great gulps of air. Damion’s wand is now in Lukas’s hand, and is promptly hurled off the balcony. Lukas pushes Damion roughly against one of the stone trees.
“She’s mine!” Lukas snarls before punching Damion in the face so hard that I can hear something crack. Then Damion is lying on the floor, Lukas straddling him and savagely punching him in the face over and over as Damion cries out, blood streaming from his nose and mouth.
I push myself away from the two of them and scurry backward to avoid the flying limbs.
Lukas stops, rises to his feet, and steps back, his fists clenched as he looms over Damion.
Coughing and spitting blood, Damion rolls over, whimpering, then struggles onto his knees. He holds up his palms in surrender.
The Shadow Wand Page 20
