The Shadow Wand

by Laurie Forest

  I nod, my own brow tight as a bowstring, unable to easily shed the danger and trauma of the evening. And the intrusive Gardnerian traditions that muscle in on something so personal and intimate.

  “I didn’t like all the jokes about this,” I blurt out in a rush of honesty as I motion loosely toward the bed, unable to keep a swell of outrage from my voice. “All those jokes about your ‘sword’ being used on me and sanguin’in said over and over.” I can still feel the embarrassing sting of it all, a sting that makes me want to lash out in retaliation for how Gardnerian traditions have taken ownership of this away from me.

  Lukas gives me a weighted look, obviously taking this seriously as he comes to me. He reaches out and caresses my shoulder, his thumb tracing a gentle arc on it.

  “It’s like some joke I’m the target of but not in on,” I say, my resentment breaking free. I frown at the bed then look back up at him. “I’ve been kept ignorant about this and left out of all the humor because I’m female and...it feels wrong.” It dawns on me, how intimately I’m confiding in Lukas right now. Lukas seems surprised by my candor, but his focus remains unwavering. I’m angered—really angered—a tremor taking hold in response to how unforgivably unfair our traditions are toward women.

  “Elloren,” Lukas says as he takes both my hands in his and gently pulls me up, his voice deep and emphatic when it comes. “We’re together in all things. Including this. And it’s not a joke. Not to me.”

  My lip curls in disgust. “Tomorrow they’ll be asking you about your ‘sword work’ while they leer at me.”

  “And someday you can ram your overpowering magic straight down their throats and envelop them in fire.”

  I give him an arch look, unexpectedly and deeply warmed by the violent sentiment. And by his understanding. By how he’s not taking this lightly. “You’re saying all the right things tonight, Lukas.”

  Lukas gives a low laugh as he reaches up to caress my cheek, giving me an affectionate look. “Good. I mean them.”

  My angry trembling fades under his comforting touch as I make a conscious effort to breathe evenly. I gesture with my chin toward the bottles, remembering that I asked him to bring strong spirits. “So...we’ve spirits?” I note. “That’s good.”

  Lukas smiles as he releases my hands. “I think you’ll like these.”

  I eye him quizzically as he moves to pick up one of the bottles along with the corkscrew.

  He flashes me a subversive look as he winds the screw into the bottle’s corked top. “They’re tree-based wines.” I raise a brow at this as he pulls the cork from the bottle with a suctioned pop.

  “I hope they’re strong.”

  “They’re not,” he admits as he sets the bottle back on the table. “We need to be sharp tomorrow. They aren’t intoxicating, but they’re relaxing in other ways. There’s a slight wood thrall in each of them.”

  “That’s...good,” I say as he removes the cork from the screw. “Lukas... I’m incredibly nervous.”

  He pauses, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. “I’ll do my best to set you at ease,” he says reassuringly. He places the cork loosely back into its opening. “This is very good wine, Elloren. I’m guessing you’ve never had wine before?”

  I’ve had tirag with Valasca, I think. Way too much of it.

  “No, I’ve never had wine.”

  “Well, I think you’ll like this.” He retrieves two crystalline glasses from a nearby shelf.

  I sit back down on the bed and pick up a crystal bottle that sits on the side table nearest me. It’s tied with a golden ribbon that’s embroidered with Ishkart letters. “What’s this?”

  “Ellusian oil.” He pauses, as if unsure what to say. “For later.”

  I lift the glass stopper and breathe it in. Vanilla. Rose. Jasmine.

  “What’s it for?” I ask, replacing the stopper.

  He hesitates again, wine bottle in hand. “I’ve no desire to hurt you, Elloren.”

  For a moment, I’m confused. Then a light dawns and my face warms. “Well practiced in deflowering virgins, are you?” I ask edgily, embarrassed now.

  He smiles and pours a small amount of the wine into the two glasses. “No. You’ll be my first.” He picks up both glasses, moves toward the bed, and holds one out to me.

  Flustered, I take the glass, the liquid the color of honey in the soft lamplight.

  “We’re unique, you and I,” Lukas says, taking a seat on the velvet-cushioned chair facing me, his glass held loosely in hand. “Our affinity lines match, line for line.” He gestures to the bed with the glass. “I suspect we’ll be a good match in this, as well.”

  Feeling wrapped up in apprehension, I take a small sip of the wine.

  Its subtle sweetness permeates my mouth and my eyes widen in surprise. It’s startlingly good. Dry and smooth, with an undercurrent of wood.

  “What is this?” I marvel, running my tongue lightly over my upper lip, the spirits decadently warming my earthlines. My eyes brighten. “Oh, I know.” I close my eyes, enraptured, as the image of coniferous trees with low-hung branches suffuses my mind. “Mmm. Cedar.”

  When I open my eyes Lukas is sipping his wine, his gaze intent on me. “Very good. It’s aged in cedar barrels for several years. Only Mages with very strong earthlines can sense the trees in it.”

  “Oh, Lukas.” I take another sip and let the wine roll over my tongue, the trees’ sensuous limbs caressing my lines. “It’s so good.”

  Lukas is smiling appreciatively, no small amount of affection in his gaze. “I like that you can recognize fine things. Good music, good wine.” He considers his glass. “They’re fools to make this illegal. Gardnerians are idiots.”

  I take another small sip, the awareness of the beautiful cedar grove like an embrace, relaxing the tension in my body and my emotions to the point that suppressed thoughts begin to rise to the surface. Yvan’s beautiful face lights in my mind along with the remembrance of his embrace, his Wyvernfire kiss, his wings wrapped around me...

  Yvan.

  Grief engulfs me, uncomfortably sharp, as the pained thought arises—

  This was supposed to be with you, Yvan. We were supposed to be together.

  I sip the wine again, desperate to let the all-encompassing feel of the cedar grove push back my grief.

  He’s gone, Elloren. You have to let him go.

  I pull in a long, shuddering breath as the wine’s tree-effect settles in deeper, the beautiful vision of the trees calming my flare of sorrow.

  I slip off my leaf-embroidered shoes and curl my stocking-clad feet into the carpet, my knees almost touching Lukas’s as I set down my glass on the side table and consider him—the easy way he sits, hips thrust forward, leaning casually on one elbow, his glass loose in his hand. “Have you been with many women?” I ask him, growing hesitant.

  Lukas sips his wine, his eyes now guarded. “A few.”

  It stings to hear this. Which is absurd, I chastise myself. He’s been clear that he’s experienced.

  He must sense that this rattles me as his brow tightens. “I’ve never been with another Mage, for what it’s worth.”

  I try to shrug off the ridiculous hurt that’s strong enough to cut through the wine’s lull. “That’s surprising,” I say.

  He barks out a laugh. “I don’t interfere with the Gardnerian cult of virginity.” He swirls the wine in his glass, reflective. “Our whole society is touchy about it.”

  I bristle at the remaining options. “So, Urisk serving girls?” I ask him warily, thinking of how Silvern went after Sparrow.

  Lukas throws me an incredulous look. “No, Elloren. I don’t approve of that.”

  Confusion mounts. “Please tell me you’ve never been with a Selkie.”

  “Of course not. I’ve told you that before.”

  I furrow my brow at him. “If you haven�
��t been with Selkies or serving girls, then who?” I know I’m being intrusive, but this entire situation is intrusive.

  Lukas lets out a long sigh. “Is this really important for you to know, Elloren?”

  No, it’s probably best I don’t know, I think. But still, I don’t think I can be with you if you’ve been abusive in the past.

  “Yes,” I tell him. “I need to know.”

  He tips his glass, watching the play of light on it. “There were new Vu Trin soldiers at their Verpacian base every year. Far away from home. Quite lonely. And they have a different moral viewpoint regarding...” He gestures loosely toward the bed with his glass. “There were two instances where a soldier of similar rank to mine felt a mutual attraction. And we pursued it.”

  I gape at him.

  He laughs. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered, Elloren.”

  I narrow my eyes. “You have a very complicated love life.”

  He sighs and gives me a slow once-over. “Yes. I do.”

  “Vu Trin soldiers?” I can’t quite get my mind around it. “With their killing stars and rune swords and blades?”

  He gives a short laugh. “I like dangerous women.” He raises his glass to me in a slight toast. “Obviously.”

  “Well, that’s good,” I wryly comment, “since you might be risking your life tonight. Seeing as how my power bests yours in almost every way.”

  “I’m ready for you this time,” Lukas returns, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “And your power’s tamped down since it’s shielded.” He sets down his glass and moves to open the second bottle, flashing me a sultry smile that sends a ripple of warmth through my lines. “I have another one for you to taste.”

  I look Lukas over as he pours a small amount of the scarlet wine into our glasses. Fully noticing him as my fireline rouses. Imagining the shape of his body under his tunic. Taking in his smooth, muscular movements. His deep–forest green eyes.

  He picks up his own glass and hands me mine.

  I take a sip. “Mmm.” I slide my tongue decadently over my lips. “It tastes like...smoked cherries. And...oh, it’s oak.” I close my eyes and breathe in deeply as the dark branched tree unfurls itself for me, my earthlines curling around its every limb. I open my eyes and smile at Lukas.

  He leans forward, pressing his knees lightly against mine. “I want to kiss your lips with the taste of this wine on them.”

  My eyes widen, my face growing warmer as my fireline gives a strong flare.

  Lukas slides his gaze down my body then up to meet my eyes. “We should enjoy fine things while we can, Elloren. We’ve a difficult road ahead of us. With few luxuries.” He sighs, as if resigned. “After tonight, our bed is likely to be the ground for some time.”

  I consider this as we both grow quiet, sipping the wine together in companionable silence, the burning firewood crackling softly, the lushness of the wine further soothing my lines. He’s being so careful with me, I realize. Keeping his fire pressed firmly back. But I also know I don’t want to stall all night.

  I take a deep breath, stand up, and turn my back, then look at him over my shoulder. “I’ll need help with the laces,” I tell him, my heartbeat quickening as my magic reaches out to shimmer through his.

  Lukas’s fire gives an intense flare that sparks against then feeds into mine, the flames in our lines rapidly surging and licking around each other’s.

  I watch breathlessly as he sets down his glass and rises in one smooth motion, his fire encircling mine as he comes to me.

  Lukas gently caresses the sides of my arms, and I draw in a shuddering breath, his touch intensifying the decadent heat, my lines straining toward his. He slides his palms up my arms and rests them lightly on my shoulders.

  I can feel his warmth radiating all along my back, my breath hitching in response to it. And I love the smell of him. I close my eyes, lean back against his chest, and breathe him in, turning to nuzzle my cheek against his warm neck as his fire gives another heated flare.

  Deep forest wood. Pine.

  Lukas slides his hands between us, moving back a fraction as his pianist fingers make deft work of my laces, quickly unfastening them. Then he tugs up my elaborate Sealing tunic, and I raise my arms as he pulls it smoothly over my head and drops it on the floor, revealing the deep-green camisole underneath. I lower my arms as Lukas’s arms slide back around me, his hard body pressing against me, a hot rush of his fire breaking free.

  I look at him again over my shoulder, my breathing erratic as I’m swept up in sudden anticipation and the entrancing feel of his flame searing through mine.

  Lukas’s breath is warm against my ear, his deep voice an inviting whisper. “Take off the skirt. Please.”

  My own fire quickens in response, our magic newly charged.

  I turn and sit on the bed, amused by how unsteady I am from nerves and desire and the hot draw of his magic.

  Reaching behind me, I clumsily unfasten my skirt, push it down, and wriggle out of it.

  Dressed now in only my thin, silken green camisole, pantalets, and deep-green silk stockings, I meet Lukas’s molten gaze, my cloth-wrapped Wand still pressed to my thigh in one of my stockings. I slide the Wand out and place it on the side table beside me, then lie back on the bed, basking in the feel of Lukas’s fire sparking against mine as I stretch, the linen quilt bumpy against the bare stripes of skin above my stockings. I close my eyes and delight in the taste of cherries still on my tongue, the feel of the trees caressing my lines.

  Lukas’s fire draws down for a moment, and I open my eyes just as he retrieves something from the leather bag by the chair. A small bottle. He pulls what looks like a tiny sliver of root out of the bottle and hands it to me.

  “Here, Elloren.”

  “Sanjire root?” I ask.

  Lukas nods.

  I hold out my palm, and he drops the dark pregnancy-preventing root into it. I place it in my mouth.

  It’s bitter on my tongue, and I flush over the need for it. Over what’s about to transpire. I throw Lukas an arch look. “I thought you were supposed to ‘breed on me.’”

  He shakes his head and sits back down, picking up his glass. “That is, perhaps, the least sensual phrase ever uttered in the entire history of Erthia.”

  “Hmm,” I agree as I finger the embroidery of the quilt beneath me.

  Lukas’s expression grows serious as his gaze slides over me, a pulse of his fire stroking my lines. “That fabric is thin.”

  “It’s soft too,” I tease as I bite my lip softly.

  “Hmm.” His fire gives another hot pulse in my direction, the heat growing more insistent.

  “Your fire,” I say as his heat stirs up my own. “It’s starting to make me feel very relaxed.”

  “Good,” he says. “Because I’m starting to want to take that camisole off of you.”

  I swallow, the tension picking up in the room.

  Flushed from our affinity draw, I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I pick up my glass and take a small sip of the wine, then swirl the liquid and consider it as its oak limbs twine through me, soothing every line.

  “Where did you get the rune on your forearm?” Lukas lightly inquires, his focus intent.

  “Sagellyn Gaffney placed it on me,” I explain. “When I visited Cyme. It turns out she’s a Light Mage. She placed a demon-sensing rune on me, as well.” I brazenly pull up my camisole to show him and can sense Lukas’s focus scattering for a moment as he stares at the rune on my naked abdomen, his gaze growing a bit liquid before he raises his eyes to meet mine.

  “You were in Cyme?” he asks, seeming a bit breathless.

  I nod as I glance down at my glass, the wine such a lovely crystalline scarlet color, the firelight dancing in it. “I had spirits for the first time there too,” I confide in him with a mischievous smile. “I drank
too much tirag one night with Valasca Xanthrir.”

  Astonishment ripples through Lukas’s lines. He sits forward, his invisible fire guttering. “Did you just say you drank tirag in Cyme with...Valasca Xanthrir?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” I grin at him and take another sip.

  Lukas pulls in a deep breath, pondering. “Well, the odds of our survival just got a whole lot better. If we can get you through the Pass, that is.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because the Vu Trin are aligned with the Amaz. And once they tell them that you’re the Black Witch, the Amaz will send the head of the Queen’s Guard for you.”

  I raise a brow at this. “Well, that’s a lucky stroke of fate. She’s my friend.”

  Lukas cocks his head and lets out a long sigh. “It’s a relief to know that Valasca Xanthrir is not likely to kill us. How did you ever come to drink tirag with her?”

  I tell him the story of Marina, the Selkie, and how we had to travel to the Amaz city of Cyme to enlist the help of the Amaz to free all the Selkies, and how I encountered Sage Gaffney there. “I had a headache that evening,” I tell him, “so Valasca gave me some tirag. I drank quite a lot, and quickly found that spirits make me feel...” I give him a slow smile. “...quite loosened up. Much like your fire.”

  Lukas’s eyes take on a suggestive gleam. He sends out a warm, embracing line of flame. “Would you like to feel more of it?”

  My magic flares toward him, a hard stream of it flashing into his lines, and Lukas shudders slightly in response. I smile at him. “I would.”

  Lukas seems amused by my brazen gaze. He stands, takes the glass from my hand, sets it on the table, then pulls off his tunic in one smooth motion and throws it over the back of the chair.

  It’s a shock, his partial nudity, and a hard spike of desire flashes through me. I swallow as my gaze wanders over his handsome frame.

  There’s a knife marked with Noi runes strapped to one of his upper arms. Another small spare wand that’s rune marked strapped to the other. His chest is muscular. Mostly smooth and shimmering green in the dim light, dark hair shadowing its center.