Page 175 of The Shadow Wand

Because I know it’s true. I’ve grown to care for Lukas. A great deal in a short amount of time. In so many ways. And I gave myself to him last night with no reservations, surrendering to our fierce attraction and my longing to fall into our perfect affinity match. Yearning to let go of the shard of grief that’s lodged so deep and love him back fully.

Because even though Lukas won’t profess his love, I can read it in his fire. Staggering in its strength, blazingly ardent and unfractured.

But I can give him only a small piece of my heart in return because the rest of it is shattered over my loss of Yvan and might always be. And I know he can sense that truth too.

I lie there for a long time, lost in conflict and guilt and horrific imaginings of Vogel’s pale green eye staring down at us all, until finally, my eyes fall shut and a dreamless sleep takes hold.

CHAPTER THREE

DESERT TREES

ELLOREN GREY

Sixth Month

Northwestern Agolith Desert

I bolt awake, momentarily disoriented when I find myself alone in a cave. My mind rapidly catches up as I take in Chi Nam’s meditation altar, the small statue of the Dragon Goddess Vo, the Noi military garb that’s folded beside me, and the black leather weapons belt set atop it.

And Lukas’s neatly rolled-up bedding.

I glance down at my blood-speckled Elfhollen garb. My storm-gray skin.

Everything rushes back in—a world descending into war, the scorpio attack, Vogel’s terrible thrall, our escape through a portal. Lukas’s passionate words and unchecked fire.

My inability to return his feelings wholly.

I get up, feeling Lukas’s absence keenly as the desire to find him rouses in my emotions and in my tumultuous, unshielded lines.

I catch my reflection in the silver meditation bell that hangs from the wall and give a small start at my vastly altered appearance. I look like a living storm, my pale gray hair wildly mussed, silver eyes and lashes glimmering, my skin the color of thunderheads, my lips a deeper gray.

And my ears as curved as twin sickle moons.

I throw off my Elfhollen garb and put on the black Noi uniform, my boots and weapons belt, then dare to touch the Wand’s surface with my wand hand, the feel of its spiraling handle refusing to prompt any flare of power in me. Thrown by the Wand of Myth’s quixotic nature, I slide it into its belt sheath, then glance down at the sapphire military runes that mark my uniform’s edging and pause, a sense of the momentous overtaking me.

The time to be a soldier has come.

To face my destiny full on.

Today.

Today I will wield my magic.

Emboldened by the threat of Vogel closing in on both me and the wider world, I fold up my bedding, then stride through the narrow stone hallway and through Chi Nam’s bedroom, down more hallways, and into the Vonor’smain living space.

The passageway to the outdoors reveals a spot of purple-edged predawn sky, the sound of Lukas’s deep voice speaking Noi filtering in.

I look through the doorway and find Lukas sitting with Chi Nam and Valasca around a low circular table they must have dragged onto the ledge, a rune lamp in the table’s center. The lit firepit beside them crackles with bright red flame. The air is cool, the sky half-tinted a dreamy dark purple that stands out in stunning contrast to the fading crimson stars.

I take in Lukas’s unbelted Vu Trin tunic, his chest, abdomen, and palms newly marked with multiple glowing sapphire Noi runes and a few scarlet Amaz. He’s poring over a thick text marked with runic diagrams, deep in conversation with Valasca, as they point at pages from several more texts splayed open on the table before them. Chi Nam quietly listens to them as she sips a steaming mug of tea, her rune staff propped against the rocky outgrowth beside her and glowing with a wider variety of runes than it was last night—emerald Smaragdalfar, scarlet Amaz, and golden Ishkart runes mixed in with the sapphire Noi.

Multiple wands hewn from a variety of wood are strewn among the texts, a glimmer of magic racing through my lines as my fingers itch to touch them.

Lukas looks up, obviously sensing my roused fire, and meets my eyes.

His black hair is spiked from washing, his distractingly muscular chest almost completely healed, only a slim red scar slashed horizontally across it. My fireline gives a reflexive flare toward his.

A flash of searing intensity passes between us, his own fire rearing then immediately wrenched back and forced to heel.

---