Of course I’m not. This is an unparalleled disaster.
“I get stress headaches,” I tell him, pressing my forehead against my balled fists.
Yvan shifts around until he’s in front of me and places his warm hands on either side of my aching head. I open my eyes to find him deep in concentration, focused on a point just above my eyes. Heat radiates from his hands, vibrating outward, and the ache in my head begins to diminish little by little as he holds me, until it’s completely gone.
He drops his hands down from my head, keeping one on my shoulder.
“Thank you,” I say, amazed.
He nods, his lip lifting.
“That’s quite the skill you have there.”
He reaches up to gently push a stray piece of my hair back behind my ear. It’s such a tender gesture, it brings tears to my eyes.
“Before my uncle died,” I tell him, my voice breaking, “he told me I should fight the Gardnerians. That he was wrong to think otherwise. He tried to tell me everything. And then he was gone, before he could finish what he was trying to say.”
I stop for a moment, afraid I’ll come undone. “Do you think they were right?” I finally ask him. “To shelter us like they did?”
Yvan looks briefly at the bonfire before us. When he turns back to me his expression is as hard as forged steel. “No.”
My head spins from the sheer vertigo of it all. Everything has been turned upside down and inside out.
“This can’t be happening,” I protest, suddenly overcome. “It shouldn’t be me. I don’t know how to wield this kind of power.”
He glances over at the fire again, looking impressed. “You can learn.”
I remember Marina’s words the day we found her skin.
Power changes everything.
“This is bigger than just us,” Yvan says. “If no one steps forward to fight, they’ll win.”
But could we actually do it? Could we harness our power and help take down the Gardnerians and the Alfsigr and any and all of their allies?
Yvan holds on to me for a long moment, the fire crackling in the distance as I wrestle with this new fate.
“Maybe we’ll win,” he finally says.
“It’s a really long shot, Yvan.”
“Stranger things have happened.”
I look up at him. “We did rescue Naga from a Gardnerian military base,” I say, as bold defiance starts to rise within me.
“And destroyed half the base,” he adds thoughtfully.
“And the Selkies. They’re free.”
“That was a long shot, as well.”
“As is you turning out to be half dragon.”
The edge of his mouth lifts in a smile. “And then there’s you...being, of all things, the Black Witch.”
I nod, a bit dazed as I glance at the flaming trees. “That is definitely unexpected.”
Yvan gives my arm a warm squeeze, gets up and walks down to the lake to gather his things. When he reaches the shore, he goes very still. Then he pulls his wings in tight behind him, folding them flat against his back, until only their imprint remains. His hair morphs from vibrant red back to its glamoured brown, and his ears shift to a rounded shape once more.
When he’s done, Yvan lets out a long breath, as if it’s taken quite a bit of effort. Then he quickly throws on his shirt, his belt, his socks and boots.
He offers me his hand as he approaches. “Let’s go to Kam Vin,” he says. I take his hand and let him pull me up. “It’s time for her to know we’re ready to fight with them.”
“How did you learn how to hide your wings?” I wonder, amazed at what I’ve just witnessed.
“I’m Lasair, Elloren” he says matter-of-factly. “We can form weak glamours.”
“Oh.”
For a moment I just stand there, feeling dazed.
“Elloren,” Yvan says softly as he pulls me into a warm embrace, his lips soft on my temple.
“I still can’t believe you can fly,” I say, surreptitiously feeling along the hard planes of his back for some hint I might have missed. But I can’t feel any trace of his wings.
He lets out an incredulous laugh and leans down to lightly kiss me, his lips enticingly warm. “And I can’t believe I’ve fallen in love with the Black Witch.”
“It certainly seems that way.”
Yvan pulls away a fraction, his gaze ardent and firing up to gold. “It is that way.” And then he kisses me again, his lips growing heated, his fire building and then flashing through my lines with a feverish urgency that makes me shudder against him.
“I’ll bet no one imagined this when they wrote that Prophecy,” I whisper as he brushes his mouth along the edge of my lips.
“I imagine not,” he breathes. Then he brings his lips back to mine and kisses me ravenously.
He feels so good, so deliriously warm, that my thoughts tangle in on themselves and I almost forget about the fasting marks on my hands, about the huge forest fire still burning, about every impossible, world-shattering thing going on around us.
“So,” I breathe, completely under his spell, “this is what it’s like to kiss a dragon.”
He smiles suggestively, his eyes blazing to gold. Then he leans in and kisses me again, his tongue twining around mine, his movements slow and serpentine as his fire curls in a slow caress down my lines, trailing sparks all the way to my toes.
The sensation startles me, all the more heightened by the way he’s pulling me against his long, hard body, and a tight desire takes hold.
“That’s...interesting,” I say, overwhelmed by my reaction to his touch, to his unbridled fire.
“I love kissing you,” he says. “Sharing this fire with someone... It’s incredible.”
“What did you mean when you said that kissing would bind us?” I ask as he threads his fingers back through my hair, brushing his lips along my neck.
He hesitates, his breath hot on my skin. “A dragon’s kiss binds him to his mate.”
I pull back to meet his molten gaze. “So...now we’re bound?”
He shakes his head, a ruddy flush on his cheeks. “No. You’re not a dragon. In our case...it only goes one way. I’m bound to you.”
“Like fasting?” I ask haltingly.
He tilts his head, considering. “No. It’s more of a bond of fealty. I’ll know when you’re in danger. I’ll sense any pain you experience.”
A troubling thought occurs to me. “And if I die?”
Yvan’s face tenses at the idea. “For a time, I’d be stripped of my fire, my power.”
“Oh, Yvan.” I pull in a long breath. “Maybe you should have held off on kissing me.” I reach up to touch his face, running my thumb along his angular cheekbone.
A large branch crackles and falls to the ground, making both of us jump. I glance at the fire, trepidation rising. “We should go. We need to find the Vu Trin and tell them what we are.” I lift up my wand hand. “And I need to learn how to use this...this power.”
If we’re going to fight, we’re going to have to learn how to fight well.
“Commander Vin will bring us east,” Yvan says with certainty, watching the fire.
I reach down and pull the White Wand from my boot, my affinity lines lurching toward its spiraling wood. I tighten my fist around it and test the weight of it in my hand.
Weakness is no longer an option.
“I’m going to learn how to use this.” I look up into Yvan’s fiery eyes. “I’m going to harness every last bit of power inside me, and I’m going to learn every spell in every grimoire. And then I’m going to come back for Marcus Vogel.”
CHAPTER NINE
RESISTANCE
Yvan and I set out for the eastern outskirts of Verpax City that evening, the two of us heavily cloaked and riding on the same horse. We pass through the city, then far
mland and into the starlit wilds, our path lit by the lumenstone lantern I’m clutching in my hand.
I cling to Yvan, drawing some comfort from the warm solidity of him, but still, trepidation swells in me, threatening to overwhelm. Yvan’s palm slides over my hand, as if sensing my disquiet, his fire reaching out to me and enfolding me in warmth.
After a time, Yvan abruptly veers off onto a slim road that passes through the dense forest and comes to a stop before a small clearing.
Silence fills the air around us, save for the spring peepers sounding their chirping call. I take in our surroundings as we dismount, and Yvan secures our horse. There’s a short, sloping hill before us, a hillock at its crest with a large, flat stone face.
“Elloren.”
I turn to find Yvan by my side. He takes my hand in his, our fingers lacing, and we start up the hill.
We’re not more than halfway up when emerald runes abruptly burst to life in a circle around us. We both freeze, the plate-sized runes glowing brightly and floating in the air.
A tall, slender man strides toward us from the shadows near the hillock, runic-illumination washing over him as he nears. He’s a Smaragdalfar Elf, the emerald pattern of his skin enhanced by the green light. His silver eyes bore into us, then widen as recognition spreads across his face.
“Professor Hawkyyn?” I ask, surprised.
“Elloren Gardner,” my former Metallurgie professor says, his voice riddled with confusion. He looks to Yvan, as if searching for some explanation.
“We need to see Commander Vin,” Yvan says, his hard tone brooking no contradiction.
Professor Hawkyyn eyes him with incredulity, his gaze flicking to me. “She cannot go in there.”
“She has power,” Yvan states.
He shakes his head, unmoved. “I don’t care if she has some wand-power, she can’t—”
“No,” Yvan says, his voice sharpening. “She has power. And I have wings.”
Professor Hawkkyn blinks at us, as if suddenly readjusting his entire view of the world, fierce astonishment in his silver gaze. His eyes don’t budge from us as he lifts his fist, palm out, and splays open his fingers.
The runes blink out of existence.
I pull in a deep, shuddering breath as he angles his head toward the hillock, indicating for us to follow, then turns and strides up the hill. Apprehension kindles my nerves as Yvan and I trail him up, our hands clasped tightly together.
When Professor Hawkkyn reaches the hillock’s stone face, he wordlessly pulls a small stone marked with an emerald rune from his tunic pocket and presses it to the rock wall.
I watch, transfixed, as circular emerald runes burst to life all over the stone. A portion of the wall shudders, like the surface of an agitated lake, then dissolves to verdant mist, revealing a rune-marked double door.
Professor Hawkkyn pulls the doors open, and blue light floods over us. Inside, two young Vu Trin sorceresses spring to attention and unsheathe curved rune-swords.
Professor Hawkkyn steps inside and speaks to them in what sounds like the staccato notes of the Noi language. Both sorceresses’ eyes light with surprise as their gazes fly toward Yvan and then me with no small amount of alarm, and I notice that they keep their swords unsheathed.
My heart thuds against my chest as Professor Hawkkyn motions Yvan and me forward. The sorceresses fall in behind us as we follow him into a narrow, tunneling corridor that slopes sharply down, and I can sense their eyes on my back. The air cools as we descend, and I breathe in the chalky smell of clean, water-washed stone.
The clank of metal on metal sounds up ahead, as well as the sound of men’s voices, and we soon approach a smithy that’s been built right into the cave. A blast of heat washes over me as I spot two muscular Smaragdalfar Elves busily pounding rune-swords into shape. The two smiths pause in their work as they catch sight of us, eyeing me with open astonishment mixed with a troubling edge of hostility.
There are runes everywhere in the network of caves, suspended in the air and glowing both Smaragdalfar green and Noi blue. Some are motionless, while others rotate lazily, and a few spin so fast, they look like solid discs of light.
We pass multiple weapons caches—swords and every type of bladed weapon jammed into large vaults hewn into the cave’s walls. Enough weapons to supply a sizable army.
The sheer scale of what’s happening here starts to dawn on me. The Resistance never left Verpacia. They simply brought it underground.
Yvan and I follow Professor Hawkkyn through another winding, narrow corridor, the repetitive clacking of wood against wood echoing off the stone walls. An expansive cavern comes into view up ahead, a wide variety of rune-weapons hang all over the stone walls. Commander Vin and her sister are sparring with rune-staffs, bursts of blue light flashing off the staffs with each parried blow, a sizable number of Vu Trin sorceresses intently watching their engagement.
We step out into a large, circular cavern and everything stops.
Commander Vin swings around to face us, her battle staff clutched in her fist. She brings one end of it to the stone ground with a decided thud as her eyes narrow on me with potent focus. Close to twenty other sorceresses dressed in military garb stand around the cavern, lines of silver stars secured diagonally across their chests. Four of the sorceresses wear the dark gray uniforms and black head wrappings of their elite Kin Hoang fighting force.
Shock scythes through me as I catch sight of Jules and Lucretia hovering around a wooden table set by the wall, the table’s broad surface covered in maps and a pile of documents. I do a double take as my gaze takes in bespectacled Lucretia, her Gardnerian clothing gone and replaced by a black Noi military tunic and pants. There’s a sprig of glowing Ironflowers in her upswept hair.
“Elloren,” Jules says, blinking in obvious astonishment. Lucretia straightens, her eyes moon-wide.
They don’t know what I am, I realize. I look to Commander Vin, who’s watching me closely.
But you’ve known all along, haven’t you?
My composure snaps. I release Yvan’s hand and step toward her, a reckless outrage overtaking me.
“How long have you known what I am?” I demand of Commander Vin.
Murmurs of confusion fill the cavern.
“I didn’t know. I only suspected,” she says grimly.
“Know what?” Jules asks, stepping forward.
“Kamitra, what’s this?” Lucretia asks, seeming deeply thrown.
“I have power,” I tell them, not taking my eyes off Commander Vin. “Quite a lot of it, actually. And I can access it. Isn’t that right, Kamitra?”
More agitated murmuring.
“I gave you a blocked wand for your wandtesting,” Commander Vin tells me evenly. “When you dropped it, I suspected that you were powerful. Only a Mage of great power could summon enough magic to cause pain.”
Sounds of uneasy surprise ripple across the room as a feeling of unreality washes over me.
“You should have told me,” I challenge her, a bitter frustration rising in my throat, my voice becoming rough with emotion. “I could have helped my uncle. He’s dead now, at the hands of my aunt. Did you know that?”
Commander Vin’s face tenses. “No, I did not. I’m sorry.”
“All the others,” I press, caught up in a sudden clutch of anguish. Ariel. All the refugees now trapped in the Western Realm. “I could have done something.”
Her mouth becomes one tight line. “I could not be sure of your intentions or of your character. Only the White Wand gave me pause...”
“Pause in what?”
She eyes me with stark focus. “Pause in cutting you down.”
My thoughts cyclone, her words hanging in the air with terrible resonance.
“Once your power quickened,” Commander Vin says, “you needed to prove yourself by coming to us. And I needed to wa
tch you for a time—to see what direction you chose. You are a dangerous weapon, Elloren Gardner. And every seer of every land has scried the same Prophecy.”
“Of the Black Witch and the Icaral she’s supposed to defeat,” I offer up stiffly.
“Yes,” Lucretia says with a slight nod. “Possibly you. And Sage Gaffney’s child—the only male Icaral in the Western Realm with intact wings.”
I turn to Yvan with a meaningful look. His eyes flash to mine, flaming gold at the edges. He reaches up and starts unbuttoning his shirt.
Commander Vin cocks her head to one side as everyone in the room eyes Yvan with confusion. He shrugs off his shirt and lets it drop to the floor. Then he leans his head down and closes his eyes.
His hair brightens to flame red, like fire catching on a candle’s wick, his ears forming Fae points, his black wings coming to life and unfurling.
Shocked gasps echo throughout the circular room as Commander Vin’s eyes widen.
Yvan takes my hand firmly in his as his wings fan out and flap once, a defiant look flashing across his face as we hold on tight to each other.
“Well, now,” Commander Vin says, quickly regaining her rock-solid composure. She slowly walks around us, her eyes riveted on Yvan’s wings. “This is a particularly interesting turn of events. The two points of the Great Prophecy are allies. Lovers, by the look of things.” She pauses in front of Yvan. “What do you know of your powers, Yvan Guriel?”
“Very little.” Yvan describes what he can do, the faces of everyone surrounding us becoming impressed and heartened. But I notice another undercurrent at work here, the sorceresses’ eyes narrowing with apprehension as they glance toward me.
And fear.
Commander Vin shakes her head incredulously. “The two most powerful beings on Erthia, ignorant of how to harness or use their full powers. Incredible.”
Her eyes flick over to the other sorceresses, then back to me. “Are you ready to fight both the Gardnerians and the Alfsigr, Elloren Gardner?”
“Yes,” I say adamantly, unease spiking as I note the dubious looks on so many faces, and the fact that she leveled this question only at me. “We’re both ready to fight the Gardnerians and the Alfsigr.”
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