Page 112 of The Shadow Wand

“Yes, Mage,” Sparrow says with a deferential dip of her head.

Aunt Vyvian’s gaze rakes over me, victorious.

And then she turns and sails out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

I let out a great shuddering breath as I stare at Sparrow’s reflection in the mirror, my fire affinity lines fair exploding with stinging flame. I look down and realize my hands are trembling.

Perhaps noticing this, Sparrow turns to the tea service beside us, picks up a teacup, and sets it lightly down in front of me, then pours me a fragrant cup of vanilla tea.

The steam wafts up as she pours, the sweet, comforting scent steadying me. I pull my trembling hands into my lap, massaging the palm of my wand hand as I inwardly tighten my fire affinity lines, attempting to gain some semblance of control.

My eyes meet Sparrow’s in the mirror.

“She killed my uncle,” I tell her, my voice coarse and unforgiving.

Sparrow pauses for a moment, teapot in hand, her voice calm and controlled when it comes. “And they’ll kill everyone else you care about if you don’t survive to fight them.” Her amethyst eyes hold mine in the reflection with a poignant intensity that lays bare in the clearest of terms how high the stakes are.

Vengeful tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I nod stiffly back at her.

“You’ll best them,” Sparrow tells me as she pours some milk into my tea, her reflection flashing me an ironhard look. “Because you have to.”

“I don’t know how to control my magic,” I admit, my breath tight in my throat.

“Then you’ll learn,” she replies, setting down the pot and mixing the milk into my tea with a silver spoon. She picks up a porcelain plate holding two currant scones from the side table along with a silver dish of clotted cream, sets it all down on the dressing table before me, and begins to lather the thick cream onto one of the scones for me.

“Please stop,” I say, holding up a palm, suddenly not able to bear her waiting on me. I’ve done nothing to deserve her fawning attention. “Please stop serving me and sit down.” I motion toward the cushioned chair beside mine, my voice strained. “Draw the blinds if you have to, but please, sit down and have some tea. And some food if you’d like.”

Sparrow stops and considers me, her eyes narrowing. But then she sets down the spoon, goes to the window, pulls the blinds shut, and returns to the side table that holds the tea service. She calmly pours herself some tea then takes a seat beside me. I take a sip of the hot tea as she prepares a scone for herself and takes a neat bite of it.

For a moment, we drink tea and eat the scones in a weighty, companionable silence, considering each other.

I set down my cup and glance at my fastmarked hands, the knot of stress in my stomach tightening. Soon those lines will flow down my wrists.

Tonight.

Thoughts of Yvan crop up, sending an ache through me. Yvan’s intense, compassionate eyes. His beloved voice. His kiss.

How much I loved him.

“Lukas and I have to fully seal this fasting,” I tell Sparrow, my face heating as I broach the forbidden topic. “There’s no other way.”

Sparrow nods, a stoic gravity in her expression. “No. There isn’t.” She hesitates, giving me a shrewd look, but it’s not unkind. “Is there someone else?” she gently asks.

Anguish rises and my voice cracks under the weight of it. “He’s dead.”

She’s quiet and still for a long moment. “I’m sorry,” she finally says.

I nod, tears clouding my vision, not able to speak for a bit.

Sparrow goes back to sipping her tea, and I realize she shares my aunt’s regal elegance. She’s so lovely. Stunningly lovely. With her lavender hair and hue, her graceful, aristocratic bearing. She is, without question, one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen.

My thoughts darken as I remember how Mage soldiers used to prey on the Verpax University kitchen workers. Especially the young, pretty ones.

“How do they treat you here?” I ask, the blunt question rising, unbidden.

Sparrow stills, then lowers her teacup and returns my frank look. “Lukas is good to me.” She grows thoughtful. “I suspect he would be even if we weren’t allied. He wants things done correctly. But he’s fair. And he doesn’t think the Urisk should be held down like we are.”

I’m deeply heartened by this, but also not surprised. I remember Lukas’s apparent friendship with Elfhollen Orin. It’s becoming increasingly clear that Lukas has a rebellious streak that’s leagues wide.

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