Page 115 of The Shadow Wand

Tick, tick, tick.

A small clock set on the dressing room’s Ironwood armoire ticks down the minutes left before Lukas and I are formally sealed...before I have to face Vogel. I take one last look in the full-length mirror at the leaf-decorated, glitteringly verdant creature I’ve become.

A creature who looks just like my terrifying grandmother.

A multitude of emotions spiral up inside me as I take in my reflection—fear, awe, rebellion. Along with an acute awareness of the Black Witch power contained in my lines. And of the walls rapidly closing in around me and that power.

Low voices sound, and I head for the changing room’s door and open it. Surprise ripples through me as I pause at the room’s threshold.

My guard, Thierren Stone, is just inside my bedroom door, huddled close to Sparrow, the two of them talking in low, indecipherable tones, engrossed in serious conversation.

They’re standing much too close to be only passingly acquainted.

Thierren is leaning toward Sparrow, his broad shoulder resting against the closed door’s frame, his green eyes riveted on her, and she’s looking at him with equal fervency. Thierren reaches out to gently touch Sparrow’s arm just as Sparrow catches sight of me.

She startles, her amethyst eyes widening just as Thierren notices me as well, the two of them immediately stepping back from each other, as if attempting to conceal their bond. I remain standing there, blinking at them.

Are they close friends?Lovers even?

I think of Uncle Edwin and his Urisk love. Such dangerous lines to cross here in the Western Realm.

Is this why Thierren broke with the Gardnerians?

He’s fasted, I notice, but the fasting was never consummated, his looping black fastlines stopping just short of his wrist.

“You should leave us,” Sparrow tells Thierren as she glances uneasily at me.

Thierren gives her a brief, reluctant look, then nods stiffly. He throws an unreadable parting glance at me and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him as he takes up his guard post once more.

I step into the room. “Sparrow,” I say, wanting to reassure her, “if you and Thierren are together...”

Sparrow shoots me a quelling look. “We’re allies, nothing more.”

A flash of yellow light bursts through the room from above, cutting off her words, and my head jerks back from its intensity. Startled, we both look up.

A luminescent golden circle has flamed to life on the Ironwood ceiling.

There’s a mutedpopas the circle’s interior bursts into a geometric, runic pattern, and both Sparrow and I take a quick step back.

I look to her, alarm rising. “What’s this...?”

Another sizzling flash of gold as the wood beneath the huge rune disappears and a man drops down through the hole and hits the floor with barely a thump.

My heart almost jumps out of my chest as I stagger back and a split-second impression takes hold—pale skin, sand-blond hair, kohl-rimmed eyes, blackened lips, dark garb. And a curved rune sword grasped in his black-gloved hands.

A northern Ishkart assassin.

“Thierren!” Sparrow shrieks as horror bolts through me.

The assassin lets out a growl and launches himself at me as I stumble backward and everything happens at once.

Thierren bursts into the room, wand out as the door to the servants’ quarters flings open and Effrey runs in, palm extended and flashing a purple gleam. The assassin grabs my arm and I struggle to fight him off as he pulls his sword back, a cry of terror escaping my lips.

Just before the assassin is about to bring the sword down on me, a white creature flies diagonally in from a corner ceiling branch to collide with the assassin’s throat, the impact driving him away from me. I stagger back a step just as a line of violet fire streaks toward the assassin from Effrey’s palm and a spear of ice flies from Thierren’s wand to impale the assassin’s chest, his whole body arcing backward as he bursts into violet flame.

The assassin’s runic sword clunks onto the carpet as he falls to the floor. He lets out a wet, gurgling cry as he kicks his feet out and desperately claws at the small white dragon affixed to his throat.

A dragon. There’s adragonin my room...

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