My heart twists as I think of Sparrow and Effrey and of all the Urisk and Smaragdalfar and Fae still trapped here in the Western Realm. Anyone who doesn’t make it out in time will be horrifically imprisoned by Vogel’s runes.
Imprisoned by that Shadow Wand.
But if he can imprison a whole country with his newfound power, what happens when he sets our Sealing spell with his Wand?
“Lukas, I want you to tell me every last thing you know about Vogel’s Wand,” I press.
“I will,” he promises, “but for now, you and I need to focus on getting out of here and east of the Pass. Then we can prepare to wage open warfare on Vogel and his Shadow Wand. Now that we’re properly armed.”
Hope sparks. “You have a weapon, as well?”
Lukas’s mouth lifts, as if amused by the question. “Yes, Elloren. You.”
I startle as I struggle to adjust to this new reality I’m faced with—
Allied with Lukas Grey. About to flee to the Eastern Realm. About to run for my life as both Realms come after me.
Because I’m a weapon.
My mind whirls as I’m hit by a remembrance of something else I need to tell him. “I have a Wand, as well.” I reach down and pull the cloth-wrapped Wand of Myth from my boot and then hold it up for his inspection, the pale Wand holding its faint, luminescent glow. “I know this is going to sound impossible, but I think this is truly the Wand of Myth. Although...it might be dormant. Trystan wasn’t able to cast spells with it the last time he tried it.” I frown with frustration. “I have no way of proving this. But...I think it might contain a primordial force, like Vogel’s Shadow Wand.” I’ve a sudden, strong recollection of how I was rendered immobile by Vogel’s Wand on the North Tower’s field...and how my Wand seemed to fill me with starlight branches to break Vogel’s Shadow hold on me. A new idea rises. “I think the two Wands might be enemies.”
Lukas lifts a brow. “Enemies?”
“I think my Wand might be a counterforce to Vogel’s Wand. Like in the myths.”
“A dormant counterforce?”
I slump, fully aware of how outlandish this must sound, his expression unreadable as he seems to consider my fantastical theory.
“Perhaps some of the myths are true,” he offers, “and we’ve landed in mythic territory. I will test your wand, Elloren. Once we get out of here. All right?”
Loosening a relieved breath, I nod and push the Wand back into the side of my boot, my gaze sliding toward my servants’ quarters. My thoughts latch on to how I’d be dead if Sparrow hadn’t summoned Lukas’s help while Damion attacked me. And Effrey is just an innocent child. If we escape and leave them behind...
“My maids,” I say. “We can’t abandon them here when we leave. Sparrow saved my life.”
Lukas nods. “I’ve already arranged for them to come. Elloren, Sparrow’s offered to organize a network of Urisk spies for me.”
This catches me completely off guard, but I find myself rapidly adjusting to the idea. Sparrow seems to be all self-protective barriers and facade. I’ve glimpsed only a slim piece of the steel inside her, but it’s clear to me that there’s something fierce and unyielding beneath her guise of the subservient, compliant maid.
“Aislinn Greer’s coming with us too,” I suddenly insist. “I won’t leave without her.”
Lukas stills. “Damion Bane’s fastmate?”
“Well, he’s rather incapacitated at the moment.”
The side of Lukas’s mouth curls up, a hard glint forming in his eyes.
Oh, he likes this idea—sticking it to Damion while he’s laid up.
“Is that a yes?” I press.
“It will lure him to me.” His smile widens, and it raises the hairs on the back of my neck. His chilling look is the face of a predator in the brush just before an attack. “He and I seem to have left matters unfinished between us. Yes, Elloren. We can bring Aislinn Greer.”
For a moment, I sense the full extent of the vast power that thrums beneath his skin—the full, unbridled danger of him. Yes, my power dwarfs his, but his is still staggering in its potency. And firmly under his control. Unlike mine.
Intimidation rises over the thought of being intimate with him. It’s bad enough to be jumping into bed with someone mainly to escape from the Western Realm, but this...this will be like bedding a tiger. A tiger with overwhelming fire power.
“Lukas... I...” For a moment, I can’t collect myself, the memory of how overwhelmingly explosive it feels just to kiss him only heightening my apprehension. “I’ve never been with anyone before.” I gesture vaguely from him to me. “Not in the way we’re planning.” I search for some glimmer in his eyes that he grasps what I’m alluding to.
He cocks an eyebrow.
“It’s just...” I try again, to no avail. It’s difficult and embarrassing to try to share such private thoughts with him, as Gardnerians just don’t speak of such things. And if I can’t even talk about this, how in the world am I going to jump clear into bed with him?
I straighten and unsuccessfully try to equal his penetrating gaze. “I want to be clear. You need to take things at my pace with this.”
Lukas looks surprised, but his voice, when it comes, is low and reassuring. “Of course.”
“You can be unpredictable and aggressive,” I counter.
His expression has turned serious, his deep-green eyes gilded by the firelight. “Elloren, I won’t be. Not with this.”
His unexpectedly caring tone dredges up something raw and vulnerable inside me. I bite my lip as tears sting my eyes once more.
Lukas pushes a loose strand of my hair behind my shoulder and moves closer, his gaze searching, his words low and firm. “We won’t fully seal our fasting until I’ve set you at ease.”
“Bring spirits,” I say, remembering the soothing effect of Valasca’s tirag.
“I’ll bring some wine,” Lukas offers.
“Strong wine,” I press.
“Elloren,” Lukas says as he caresses the side of my neck, his touch featherlight, his expression kind, “you won’t need it.”
My whole body is tense, but I manage a tight nod.
Lukas looks at me quizzically, his brow furrowed. The side of his lip pulls up a fraction as his silken voice lowers to a more intimate register and he leans in close. “You don’t need to worry, Elloren. I’m skilled at this.”
His attempt at reassurance has exactly the opposite effect. Mortification spikes and I take a step back from him. “I don’t want to know that about you. I don’t want to be one more...conquest of yours.” Images of Lukas with other women flit through my mind. I swallow, wildly uncomfortable as I look toward the curtained window, at the firelit floor, anywhere but at him as I’m faced with the uneasy realization that Lukas has never once told me that he loves me. And I’ve never once said it to him. “I wanted to share this with someone who it matters to,” I say, my voice catching.
Lukas caresses my arm. “It will.” His voice is strong and sure, a tendril of his fire reaching out for me.
I shake my head, not able to meet his eyes. “You don’t understand. You can’t possibly. I wanted this...to be significant.”
With someone I love and who loves me.
With Yvan.
When I finally look back up at Lukas, there’s a storm of emotion in his eyes that’s so intense a flush spreads down my neck. There’s strong hurt there. And I’m surprised and chastened by the realization that I’ve inadvertently landed such a stinging blow.
“Lukas, I’m sorry...”
His hand falls away and he straightens, as if collecting himself. But I can feel the turbulent emotions that are now coming off of him in waves. His struggle for control is visible in the rigid way he’s holding himself, in his palpable attempt to bring his suddenly unbridled fire under rein.
When his words finall
y come, they’re clipped. “Tomorrow, stay here until I send for you.”
“I will,” I concede, filled with remorse and feeling uncomfortably formal toward him.
“Try to get some sleep,” he says, averting his gaze from mine. “You’ll need to be sharp.”
I swallow and eye him searchingly. “You too.”
Lukas shoots me an enigmatic look, turns, and walks out the door.
Part Three
CHAPTER ONE
THREAT
SPARROW TRILLIUM
Sixth Month
Valgard, Gardneria
Sparrow stares at Lukas Grey in sheer astonishment. What he’s just revealed to her and Thierren is a life-altering thing.
A world-altering thing.
“Elloren Gardner is...the Black Witch?” Sparrow can barely get the words out, her mind spinning as if caught in a maelstrom.
“Are you sure?” Thierren asks Lukas. The light from a single lantern set on the storeroom table flickers over them all, midnight’s shadows darkening the estate.
“She’s told me everything about her power,” Lukas answers him with a poignant look. “And I’ve felt its magnitude. It’s leagues stronger than mine.”
Sparrow takes in the gravity that washes over Thierren’s face, his chiseled features stark in the lantern’s flickering light.
“You take her at her word that she’s on our side?” Sparrow presses them both. She meets Thierren’s pine green gaze, seeking the reason that jaded, cynical Thierren would believe this without question.
“Strong earth magery means they both have strong Dryad lineages,” Thierren explains, his gaze flicking toward Lukas. “Which means they can’t lie to each other. It’s physically impossible.”
Sparrow’s deep-seated rebellious streak gives a flare as she eyes these two Mages, gratified to hear them speak with such easy blasphemy about their Tree Fae blood—blood the Mage holy book staunchly denies. Blood that’s blaringly obvious to Sparrow from the Gardnerian fixation on trees and forests and dominating the wilds. As well as in the green glimmer of their skin.
Sparrow turns this new knowledge about Dryad lineage over in her mind, Lukas’s news still reverberating through her like a runic blast, shortening her breath. “So, there’s absolutely no way for you and Elloren Gardner to speak a lie to each other?” she presses.
“No, there isn’t,” Lukas states emphatically. “And I can read Elloren’s affinities when I touch her, which means I can read her emotions and her magic clearly. She’s the most powerful Mage the Gardnerians have ever seen. She can create an ocean of fire with the candle-lighting spell alone. And she’s fully set against Vogel.”
Sparrow sucks in a wavering breath, all of them quiet for a moment, the air crackling with the explosive ramifications.
The Black Witch is not Fallon Bane after all.
Holy Am’eth.
Holy all of the Ge’o deities.
“So, the true Black Witch...is ready to fight for our side?” Sparrow finally manages to say, still barely able to believe it. And yet...she does believe it. She’s overheard Evelyn Grey railing against Elloren Gardner’s “traitorous” brothers. And against Elloren’s penchant for forming forbidden friendships with Lupines and Elves.
And Icarals.
“Elloren may well be the only thing that can tip the balance of power against Vogel,” Lukas says, calm and slow, as if waiting for it to thoroughly sink in.
“But Vogel doesn’t know what she is,” Thierren voices, clearly piecing together the same conclusions that are forming in Sparrow’s mind.
“No, he doesn’t,” Lukas concurs, his eyes like twin blades. “But he will soon. And I need to get Elloren out of here before he realizes the Black Witch is right here.”
A sharper understanding of the situation Elloren Gardner is faced with emerges in Sparrow’s mind.
“The Vu Trin know what she is, don’t they,” Sparrow postulates, eyeing Lukas. “Which is why they tried to kill her. They weren’t after you at all.”
Lukas’s lip quirks as he holds Sparrow’s gaze, obviously impressed. “Elloren has an army of Vu Trin hunting her,” he confirms. “And soon, several more armies will be after her, as well.”
Sparrow raises her brow at this and briefly meets Thierren’s eyes, an awareness of the extreme danger obvious in his tense expression.
“So, she’s the most powerful weapon on Erthia,” Sparrow says to Lukas as she pins him with her stare. “And you want us to help you smuggle her out of here. With multiple armies about to descend.”
“Help me get her out,” Lukas rejoins, “and I’ll get you and Thierren and Effrey East. Along with Elloren. Who I will then train in the use of her power so that she can strike down Vogel and the entire Mage Guard.” Lukas’s mouth tilts up a notch more as he holds Sparrow’s gaze, challenge sparking in his eyes. “I’m assuming that holds some appeal for you.”
The possibilities course through Sparrow, her pulse quickening as she turns the broader situation over in her mind.
Vogel’s power is growing to monstrous levels, shocking everyone in both Realms, his rapid creation of a runic border taking everyone off guard. As has his annexation of so much of the Western Realm in only a matter of weeks, his sights beginning to turn East.
Inevitably to the East.
If he’s not stopped, and soon, there won’t be a speck of safe ground left anywhere on Erthia.
But a Black Witch, Sparrow thinks, her lip twitching up. That could put a nice dent in Vogel’s plans.
Sparrow considers Elloren Gardner’s kindness to Effrey, such a contrast to vicious Fallon Bane. She can barely suppress her smile as she considers how Fallon Bane will react to the news that Elloren Gardner is, in fact, the true Black Witch.
That alone is worth helping Elloren Gardner dodge several armies.
Along with the fact that the East is going to need every single weapon they can get their hands on to stop Vogel.
Sparrow’s chest tightens with urgency. Because she desperately wants to keep Effrey safe from what’s coming.
She meets Thierren’s gaze once more, holding his fierce stare as a silent conversation rages between them. Neither of them holds any illusions about the risks at play here. The difficult odds.
The power of the foul Magedom.
Thierren’s sharp features solidify with resolve, and Sparrow can sense they’re falling into one mind on this.
“Are you sure?” she asks Thierren, the words weighted with portent.
“Let’s go east,” Thierren responds, and for a brief moment, Sparrow is swept up in the power and comfort of their alliance.
Bolstered, Sparrow turns to Lukas. “All right,” she says. “Let’s chance it. Let’s smuggle the Black Witch out of here.”
Lukas nods, growing serious as his gaze flicks over them both, as if gauging their commitment. Seeming satisfied, his eyes take on a hard glint. “The window of escape will be very slim. Here’s what I need you to do.”
* * *
A few hours later, dawn filters into one of the estate’s upper-story hallways through stained-glass skylights, washing Sparrow in its muted light. She hurries down the narrow, tree-lined hallway, a lantern in hand, as her mind brims with knowledge.
Lightning flashes, briefly brightening the hall with white light.
Sparrow stops at the hallway’s end, opens the linen closet’s door, and steps inside the sizable storage closet. She sets down her lantern and gathers a pile of neatly folded milk-white sheets from the shelf before her, racing to finish the morning’s tasks with her usual pristine competence so that Oralyyr and Mage Evelyn Grey don’t become suspicious that anything could be amiss.
Leaving Sparrow time to pilfer food and supplies for a long journey—a journey Sparrow prays she and Effrey and Thierren survive, a fragile hope now cradled in her chest.
If Elloren Gardner can learn to wield her power for the Resistance, everything is suddenly in play—
The defeat of Vogel and his forces.
The defeat of Fallon Bane and her brothers.
The liberation of the Fae Islands.
And Effrey and Thierren and I are getting out of the Western Realm tomorrow morn, Sparrow marvels.
Finally.
This elusive, longed-for dream of escape is unattainable no more.
Sparrow is ready, her heart practically singing with courage as she hugs the sheets close and moves to pick up her lantern.
“You’re new here, aren’t you?”
Sparrow startles at the question, her movements instantly halted by the deep, silken voice. She turns, her heartbeat quickening as she’s suddenly faced with Lukas’s priest brother.
Silvern Grey.
She clutches the clean linens protectively against her chest, wanting to form a wall between herself and this Mage as her alarm rises.
Silvern Grey is like a leaner, meaner, and powerless version of Lukas, lesser in every way and, from what little she’s gleaned about him, deeply resentful of it. His sculpted Gardnerian features are square jawed and aristocratic, his priestly tunic well pressed and of the finest silk, his icy-green gaze identical to Evelyn Grey’s.
And he’s leaning against the door’s frame, intentionally blocking her way out. Disturbingly bright eyed and...interested.
Sparrow’s gaze darts around him as thunder rumbles through the estate’s Ironwood walls, her heartbeat quickening to a faster rhythm.
She’s seen this look too many times before.
And the priests are the worst ones.
She ducks her head deferentially, pulling her figure inward, careful to sound neutral and not the least bit friendly. “Mage Evelyn wants the linens changed right away.” She cautiously moves toward the door, toward his side, waiting for him to step back, but Silvern doesn’t budge, the interest in his eyes taking on a glazed sheen, his breathing deepening as he swallows and looks her over.
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