Page 115 of Secrets of Graves and Gold

I can’t stop myself from stroking my fingers over the feathered fletching on the arrows Casimir brought back, bundled in their quiver along with a simple bow. At least I’m ready if there’s anyone around I need to shoot at.

He bought some sort of instrument too, like a long metal tube with a flared end, that he said could be used to sound a warning across long distances. And more food.

I turn back to Ivy with a spark of inspiration. “You should have something to eat. It’s past lunchtime. Casimir got us stuffed buns and dumplings.”

From the way Ivy’s eyes light up, I can tell he made a good choice. He’s known her longer than I have—he’s gotten to see more of her at times when she got to pick what she actually wanted to eat rather than having to settle for what we could hunt or scavenge.

She sits down at the table we unfolded this morning, and Casimir grabs the box with his acquisitions. Alek glances up from where he was peering at his book of letters again and scoots over to pluck up a stuffed bun.

I’m not particularly hungry, but the mix of buttery pastry and spiced meat in the buns is very enjoyable. It’s amazing how many flavors the physical world can hold.

Before I found myself in this body, I could see and hear even if I didn’t pay attention quite the same way. To some extent, I could feel the textures of the things I flitted past. But I had no sense of taste at all.

I lean over to take another one—and a different sensation sears through my body like a fishing line yanking at my spirit.

I lurch to the side with a yelp I can’t contain. Magic shivers through every muscle in my body.

It’s the scourge sorcerers. They’re trying to call this body back to them again. I can’t let them—I have to focus?—

But even as I start to concentrate on the thin rug beneath my feet and the thump of my heart to remind myself that this body belongs to me now, my pulse hitches with the impression that it’s not enough. Something’s different this time.

The magic wrenches through me harder—but it isn’t hauling me toward the doorway. It flings me around, whipping out my arms.

My hand has closed into a fist without my realizing. It smashes into Stavros’s jaw where the big man has hurried to my side.

He jerks away with a grunt of shock, and the energy of my daimon spirit crackles through my nerves. My body turns frigid from the inside out.

I could burn them all up if the scourge sorcerers manage to make me.

A frantic cry bursts from my lips. I yank myself away from Stavros before any of my power can explode out, but my body wheels toward Ivy.

A flash of an image passes behind my eyes—her face charred, her lithe frame blackened.

No. Anything but that.

I heave myself away with a surge of desperation. My limbs flail out.

Energy sizzles across the wall, scorching black streaks in its wake.

I need to stop this. I need to stop them.

But the best I can seem to do is to make sure I destroy something other than my companions.

I crash into the shelves of bedding. Sleeping rolls and blankets tumble to the floor.

The magic propelling me whirls me around. I throw myself into the spin so it takes me farther—away from Ivy and the others.

My body slams into the door shoulder-first. More energy flares from my skin, and the wood hisses and cracks apart.

I burst into the hall in a shower of splinters.

The impact resonates through my bones. I hit the floor in the hall with another jolt.

Pressing my hands against the floorboards with bits of broken wood digging into my fingers, I close my eyes and heave the awful influence away with every bit of my strength.

The raging of magic inside me dwindles. I push the side of my head against the floor too, absorbing the feel of the solid surface.

This is my body now. Mine.

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