Page 197 of The Black Witch

“Maybe there’s a spell that can break it.”

“Don’t you need a military-grade wand for that?” Trystan points out. “Wands that powerful are expensive, and I’m assuming that Yvan here, being a Kelt, probably doesn’t have one.”

“Well, you’re a military apprentice,” Rafe points out to Trystan.

Trystan shakes his head. “They don’t let us hold on to the wands. They keep them locked up in the armory. And we certainly don’t have the money to buy one—”

“I have a wand,” I blurt out.

Everyone stops talking and turns to stare at me.

“Are you stealing wands now, too?” Rafe asks, clearly ready to believe me capable of anything at this point.

“The morning we left Halfix, Sage gave me a wand. I think she stole it from Tobias, and... I didn’t want her to get into any more trouble than she already was in, so I sewed it into the lining of my travel case. I took it out when I arrived, and it’s been hidden in my pillow ever since.”

“You’ve a wand in your pillow?” Trystan says, incredulous.

I eye him sheepishly. “Yes. I do.”

“Why was this girl in trouble?” Yvan asks, and I feel my face beginning to flush as I struggle to put together the answer to his question.

“She...she fell in love with a Kelt.” I look away from him and catch Rafe’s eye as I do so. He’s studying me closely, one eyebrow cocked. “She’d been wandfasted to the son of a member of the Mage Council,” I continue, my eyes finding their way back to Yvan’s riveting green ones. “She ran away with the Kelt. She had a child with him. An Icaral.”

Yvan’s eyebrows fly up. “This Icaral,” he says, leaning forward, staring at me intently. “It’s the one the Gardnerians are searching for?”

“You’ve heard of him?” I say, surprised.

“I heard that the Gardnerians are aware of a male Icaral hidden somewhere, and that many believe that this Icaral is the one of Prophecy.”

“The Icarals that tried to kill me in Valgard thought that I was the next Black Witch,” I say. “And that I was sent to kill Sage’s baby.”

“But it turns out Ren here can’t even do a simple candle-lighting spell,” Trystan tells Yvan. “So, as much as she loves to stalk babies so she can mercilessly slaughter them, she’ll have to pass on this one.”

“He already knows how pathetic I am,” I tell Trystan, a little defensively.

“I don’t think you’re pathetic at all,” Yvan says, his voice low and even.

I blink, momentarily disoriented by his defense of me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Trystan and Rafe exchanging a quick, wondering glance. It makes me feel uncomfortably self-conscious, and I quickly look away from Yvan.

“Trystan,” Rafe says congenially, thankfully changing the subject, “you get hold of some of those arrow tips, and Elloren, you can fetch that wand of yours.”

Trystan shakes his head. “Even if Ren’s wand is powerful, it might take high-level spells to break Elfin steel. Spells I don’t have access to.”

“Aislinn can get those,” I confess.

They all gape at me, wide-eyed.

I turn sheepish and slump down under the combined weight of their stares. “Maybe, I mean. She’s going to borrow a military grimoire from her father.”

Rafe barks out a laugh. “Well, that’s settled, then. We have a wand, we’re soon to have a military grimoire—” he motions to Trystan “—and we’ve got our Level Five Mage here. Might as well see if we can tackle this cage.”

“Does this mean you and Trystan will help us rescue the dragon?” I ask, astonished.

Rafe grins at me widely. “Certainly looks that way, doesn’t it?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

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