The Shadow Wand

by Laurie Forest

  Dryad.

  Remorse takes hold as I think of the small tree from the Sealing ceremony and its rush of love. How it embraced me as a Dryad only to find itself in the clutches of tree-killing monsters. The nightmarish memory of Lukas exploding the miniature tree makes me wince, and I have to battle back the rise of a disorienting conflict.

  I glance up at the branching wisteria canopy, suddenly struck by the realization that it would be the perfect place for an assassin to hide and creep over me through the tangle of limbs. Thierren said he’d tell Lukas about the attack, but did he?

  We near the edge of the forest and my chest tightens.

  Lukas meets my fraught gaze with a look that reads, Are you ready? I tighten my grip on him and nod.

  We emerge from the trees, and applause breaks out as we’re faced with a huge green-lit crowd of Mages who all rise to their feet and call out congratulations as we stride down the center aisle. They’re gathered around multiple tables that fill the luxurious open space at the western edge of the arboretum. An orchestra is assembled just behind the crowd and in front of the greenhouse’s huge glass wall, a dance floor just before it.

  The tables are covered in raw silk dyed a rich forest green and set with cut-glass goblets and gleaming black china. Candelabras fashioned from small polished trees stripped of their leaves stand in the center of each table, their candles magicked to send out a green-fire glow.

  Evelyn Grey, Lachlan Grey, and Aunt Vyvian all view me with cold formality as we pass, Silvern with an out-and-out contempt that I struggle not to mirror as the applause continues and Lukas leads me toward the dance floor for the traditional first Sealing dance.

  Concern mounts as I take in the number of Mage soldiers stationed outside the arboretum, their rigid forms visible through the glass.

  A veritable army.

  Just beyond them lies an expansive view over the Valgard bluff, the lights of Valgard glittering in the distance, the curving city edging the Malthorin Bay. And streaking over the water lies the green line of Gardneria’s new runic border, a threateningly bright reminder of Gardneria’s increasing power.

  My courage falters. How will Lukas and I get past so many soldiers? And where is Vogel and his guard and the knot of priests that were at the Sealing?

  The orchestra launches into “Deep Forest,” the traditional post-Sealing song. Lukas guides me onto the dance floor, takes me in his arms, and swings us into a waltz as Mages gather around the floor’s periphery. I catch Evelyn Grey’s resentful glare as well as Aunt Vyvian’s look of smug triumph, her eyes set on her grand prize, Lukas Grey.

  Lukas deftly turns me around, one hand firm on my waist, the other wrapped tight around my wand hand as the crowd breaks into restrained applause and sends up a collective, polite murmur of appreciation.

  Lukas seems as unfazed as ever, but I can feel the forceful current of every line of his power blazing with lethal tension.

  Breathless with concern, I draw close to Lukas, leaning in to whisper in his ear. Lukas immediately responds by pulling me closer.

  “Did Thierren speak with you?”

  Lightning flashes through the glass ceiling.

  “Yes,” Lukas replies, his tone emphatic, the response of someone who has assessed the threat and somehow handled it. He gives me a sharp look as if to caution me to silence, and I surmise that he likely knows about the dragon and Effrey’s geomancy, as well.

  “Keep hold of me,” he whispers, tightening his grip on my wand hand for emphasis as we dance, “so I can pull on your magic and feed power into the shield.” He gives me a brief, crucial look as my worry mounts that Vogel has permanently altered my magic in some intrinsic way.

  Possibly in some corrupting way.

  Without Lukas’s shield, my rare ability to read magic has been rendered into a debilitating skill by Vogel’s Shadow power. I’m like a book cracked open, all the overlapping elemental magic in the room able to flow straight in, my lines on full display and disastrously vulnerable.

  The orchestral piece’s violin crescendo rises like a tide as Lukas glides us over the dance floor, the two of us having fallen seamlessly into our musical bond the way we did when we played music together, but the yearning to speak freely to him grips nearly as tight as his magical shield sizzling over my lines.

  The crowd applauds once more as the piece draws to its finale and Lukas pulls me dramatically close, his searing gaze holding mine as the back of my neck begins to creep with an indefinable dread. The Wand of Myth in my stocking shudders against my thigh as a disquieting tang of magic rises in the air like fog and the rune Sage marked on my abdomen prickles with energy.

  I turn as Marcus Vogel emerges from the edge of the indoor forest and starts down the reception’s central aisle, drawing everyone’s attention.

  Fear mounts, quickly followed by the rise of a cornered defiance.

  Vogel is trailed by a large military contingent, the four tethered Mages tight on his heels, his two young envoys just behind them, Vogel’s long stride practically radiating power. And his fist is tight around the hilt of his sheathed Shadow Wand.

  Lukas keeps decisive hold of my wand hand, his power running hot over mine, as Vogel nears and his pale eyes flick over me, quick as an asp, a palpable sting lashing against my shielded lines.

  A stab of terror knifes through me as surprise flickers in Vogel’s gaze.

  You’re trying to get in, aren’t you, I realize as I tighten my grip around Lukas’s hand. You’re trying to get into my lines. But you didn’t expect a shield, did you?

  Vogel passes by and takes his place at a well-guarded table near the wall of glass. He smiles benevolently at Lukas and me, then raises a permissive hand to the orchestra. The musicians launch into another waltz as Vogel takes a seat and couples spill onto the dance floor, my heart threatening to pound a hole straight through my chest.

  Stamping down the urge to bolt, I follow Lukas as he guides me away from Vogel and toward a long receiving table set by a green-lit waterfall and to a seat near its center, where I’m surrounded by Lukas’s family and placed next to Aunt Vyvian.

  She rises as I approach, her constellation gown glittering, the diamonds reflecting green sparks of light. Her ever-smug expression makes my stomach churn.

  But even my aversion to Aunt Vyvian can’t cut through my awareness of Vogel’s attention. I’ve a subtle sense of invisible Shadow magic rolling over the floor, like writhing mist, flowing up against the fire and earth magery Lukas has woven around my lines. Almost caressing the shield before drawing back like a sinister tide.

  “May the Ancient One’s blessing be upon you,” my aunt croons as she takes hold of my arm and kisses me on both cheeks, everything in me recoiling from her touch. She draws back and gives me a look of gloating import as she accentuates each word. “Mage Elloren Grey.”

  A sliver of shock ripples through me as I hear my new name for the first time.

  The finality of it punches through my defensive haze and unearths a stab of grief for Yvan, but I quickly gain hold of myself. I could have been Elloren Bane, I bleakly consider. If Lukas didn’t intervene, I would be Elloren Bane. And Damion would have sussed out my power and thrust me straight into Vogel’s grip.

  Into the grip of that Shadow Wand.

  Appreciation for Lukas’s staunch friendship stirs in me as my aunt greets him, her gaze sweeping over his tall frame. Lukas’s stance is casually dominant as they briefly embrace, but he keeps tight hold of my hand as his fire gives a combative flare.

  Aimed at my aunt.

  “Finally,” Aunt Vyvian says to Lukas, smooth as silk. “Congratulations to you both. May your union be a fruitful one.”

  “Oh, I’ve no doubt of it,” Lukas counters, a subversive glint in his gaze.

  It’ll be fruitful, all right, I silently hurl at my aunt. And I’ll come after you with everythin
g in me if you try to harm my brothers.

  Urisk servants emerge from the greenhouse’s central forest, carrying tray after tray of food and drink. We all take our seats, and I’m glad for the sudden bustle of activity.

  A willowy, blue-hued Urisk woman of about my age approaches the table, sets down a large silver tray on a nearby stand, and begins placing one exquisite forest-themed platter after another before us. She announces each one in a strained, formal tone as rich scents fill the air.

  “Grouse in a spruce tip glaze, Mages,” she says as she sets down the black china plate, the glistening meat dusted with tender spruce needles. “Pine pollen dumplings stuffed with deep forest morels. Linden leaf salad with braised burdock root.” She lifts an emerald glass decanter and pours the traditional Sealing drink, a tree cordial made from elderflowers, sassafras leaves, and birch syrup, into our crystalline green glasses. My eyes briefly meet hers as she pours the golden cordial. She quickly looks away, her blue eyes bright with fear, her posture desperately careful.

  My gut clenches as I consider her situation. With the runic border closing in and non-Gardnerians about to be “cleansed” from mainland Mage soil by year’s end, will she be forcibly brought to the Fae Islands? And then what? Vogel speaks openly of the Reaping Times, when all non-Gardnerians are supposed to be annihilated or forced into servitude. How will this young woman survive?

  I glance through the glass wall toward the glowing borderline of green stretching across the Malthorin Bay. Sparrow’s shocking depiction of the Fae Islands fills my mind as renewed purpose overtakes me.

  Vogel and his forces need to be struck down and the Fae Islands need to be liberated. This entire system of oppression needs to be rendered to ash. That’s the only way to truly free this woman. To free everyone caught under Vogel’s heel.

  Including myself.

  Newly bent on rebellion, I fake a submissive posture, head lowered, shoulders hunched, as the servant leaves and the murmur of convivial conversation and the clink of silverware on china fill the air. Lukas pretends to ignore me as he launches into a discussion about the current political situation with his father, who is seated beside him, but his hand remains firmly clasped around mine under the table.

  I glance at all the food set before me as my stomach clenches into a knot. I can feel my shield’s edges beginning to degrade from the effect of my churning emotions on my affinity fire as well as the ceaseless press of magic in the room.

  Perhaps sensing how troubled my fire is running, Lukas’s hand firms around mine and he sends a new line of his own fire out to me, and then a potent line of earth magery to flow around my jostled affinity lines. His shield pulls in taut, taking firm hold of my magic and smoothing it into calmer lines.

  I can feel what you’re doing, I try to convey to him with a wordless glance. Thank you.

  Lukas nods and sends me a knowing look.

  The traditional line of guests begins to stream by to offer up their obligatory congratulations, a knot of Level Five soldiers pausing before us as Aunt Vyvian gets up and steps away to converse with a small group of Mage Council members.

  “A Blessed Sealing to you, Commander Grey,” a black-bearded Mage heartily congratulates Lukas as he salutes him. I draw back from the strong water and air power rushing off him, a fusillade of magic almost powerful enough to cut through Lukas’s shield. The Mage’s eyes flick toward me with unkind mischief. “Looks a bit spooked, your maiden.”

  “Of course she does,” the soldier beside him says, smirking good-naturedly at me. “She’ll be seeing his sword work firsthand tonight, won’t she now?” They all look to Lukas, since he’s the only one of us included in their jesting.

  My cheeks heat, resentment curdling my emotions as I keep my eyes militantly focused on the table before me. I’ve no desire to take in the gloating looks on their faces as they revel in their private knowledge of this thing they’re alluding to, the finer details of which have been kept from me solely because I’m female. And it strikes me—it’s not right that they all know so much and I know so little.

  “That’s quite enough, Hale.” Lukas says it pleasantly enough, but there’s an unmistakable edge to his tone that unsettles their collective magic.

  “A Blessed Sealing,” the soldier beside Hale amends with a slight bow, quickly retreating into formality. “May your union bring forth Mages for the power and glory of the Ancient One.” The sentiment is echoed by the other soldiers as they take their leave from us.

  “Sanguin’in,” Hale rakishly tosses out in parting, his eyes flicking toward me with a look that borders on a leer, and the others echo the traditional cheer.

  My fire rouses in response, uncomfortably hot, and I look to Lukas, wanting to lash fire at the next person who utters the phrase Sanguin’in.

  Lukas’s fingers trace mine as if reading the angry flare of my lines. He gives me a decisive look and gets up, gently tugging my hand. “Come with me, Elloren.”

  Feeling both besieged by the threats bearing down and incensed by our traditions, I rise and let Lukas steer me down a side aisle, his shield rapidly shredding as my magic slashes against it. We duck into the indoor forest until we’re ensconced in a small grove of Silver Pines, their smell a sharp, spicy tang on the air that barely registers through the angry flow of my magic and the onslaught of external power clamoring against my lines.

  Lukas pulls me into an embrace, his fire running in a hot, urgent stream as I immediately realize he’s feigning our sneaking off to kiss.

  “I can read more than just your magic now,” I frantically whisper, my lips brushing against his ear. “I can read everyone’s magic. When Vogel pushed his power inside us during the Sealing—it triggered something. I can read every single affinity line in this room.”

  “I gathered as much,” Lukas whispers back, drawing away slightly and giving me a serious look. “He’s amplified something in us both. I’ve a much clearer sense of your magic. I can sense its strength and flow even when I’m not touching you.”

  A rattled surprise takes hold, since I know Lukas has never been able to read my magic without touching me, and he’s never been able to read anyone else’s magic but mine. “Can you sense the magic in the room, as well?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “No. Only yours. And only faintly when I’m not touching you. When we kiss, though...” He pauses, his fire surging toward me. “It’s like your lines are as clear to me as my own.”

  “I’ve a clearer sense of your affinity lines as well,” I shakily tell him, “and it’s heightened when we touch.”

  Lukas smiles slightly at this, his brow lifting. “Should make for an interesting evening.”

  I frown at him, put off by his penchant for humor at fraught times. And really concerned about Vogel’s effect on our power. “What if Vogel’s permanently corrupted our magic?”

  Lukas frowns. “I don’t think he’s seeded any magic in us. I don’t sense any lingering thrall. He probably tried to permanently invade our lines but wound up amplifying our perception of external power instead.”

  “That Wand he has,” I whisper, “Lukas...he can tether Mages to his power with it.”

  Lukas draws back a fraction and meets my eyes, his expression darkening. “Are you sure?”

  I nod. “The four soldiers Vogel keeps behind him—their power flows right into his wand. When I’m not shielded by you, I can sense it clearly. I think that Wand he carries gives him the ability to bind others’ magic and control it.”

  Lukas considers this, his jaw ticking. “I’ve noticed he’s rarely apart from those soldiers. And his two envoys, as well.” His gaze narrows in thought. “I don’t have any sense of his power tethered to ours.”

  “I don’t either, but if he can tether those Mages to his Wand, that means he might be able to tether us. And possibly, the entire Gardnerian Guard.”

  My anxiety gains ground
as I turn these new realizations over in my mind, along with our odds of escape.

  Lukas and I are surrounded by an army of Gardnerians, and yet another army of Vu Trin could be making its way toward me to strike at any moment. Assassins of every stripe could be closing in.

  And Vogel might be close to realizing that I’m the Black Witch.

  If he hasn’t already.

  “Vogel’s...sending power out to me,” I tell Lukas falteringly. “I can feel it. He’s testing the shield. Lukas... I’m scared.”

  Lukas looks closely at me, his thumb tracing over the back of my wand hand with slow deliberation, as if he’s reading the flow of my magic in it. My power has revved up so chaotically hot beneath his shield that I can barely think around its force.

  Lukas caresses my back, his green eyes intent. “Kiss me, Elloren,” he says, his voice a slow, gentle thrum. He reaches up to stroke my cheek as he gives a swift glance at the crowd beyond the pines. “You’re so worked up that you’re laying waste to the shield. And I can access your magic more intensely when we’re close.” I nod, and Lukas brings his lips to mine.

  Our magic bucks hard toward each other, his breath hitching as I grip his hand and tunic more fiercely. Lukas tightens his hold on me, one hand coming up to cup the back of my head as his fire sears into me in a hot, blazing stream.

  I gasp against his mouth, my breath shuddering through my lungs as I cling to him, and Lukas kisses me so intensely that every one of my affinity lines tightens and grows as molten as wildfire, then becomes more contained as Lukas coaxes my fire magic into a controlled stream and the violent rush of my fire steadies. I pull in a tremulous breath as he kisses me long and deep and twines his magery around my lines.

  Lukas draws back a fraction, his gaze fervid with heat, both of us breathing hard. “Better?” he asks.

  I nod as he holds me, his molten heat reverberating through my reshielded lines. “Much better,” I say, giving him a slight appreciative smile as my skin prickles with heat.

  “Good.” His lip lifts. “I’ll kiss you more later.”