Page 17 of The Shadow Wand

Little Effrey looks up when Sparrow emerges from the shrubbery, the child wide-eyed and bundled into their small, hidden boat. His sizable pointed ears stick out from the cloak and blanket he’s wrapped in, his violet hue darkened to a deep purple in the dim light, his purple eyes wide and watchful as a harder rain begins to pelt them both. A few supplies for their journey have already been loaded on board.

The evening’s fourth horn sounds, signaling the imminent change of the guard and a temporary relaxing of the watch. Sparrow cuts a glare toward the water.

No sign of any kraken boiling through the waves. The kraken she spotted before is probably quite a ways north by now. The beasts swim in swarms, usually keeping to one direction, so that kraken was likely part of a larger group that’s cleared off.

“We leave now!” Sparrow hisses in an urgent whisper. She rushes toward Effrey in a crouch. She will not stay and be forced into Tilor’s bed, and it’s only a matter of time before the Gardnerians find out what Effrey really is. Then they’ll both be dead.

Sparrow throws one last look over her shoulder at the island’s interior, watching for movement and listening for any sounds past the restless swoosh of the waves and the patter of the rain. Finding none, she hikes up her skirt and secures it under her tunic’s belt. Then she pushes the boat free of the land, walking it out until cool ocean water is lapping against her upper thighs. Effrey leans away from Sparrow for balance as she heaves herself inside the boat, grabs the oars, and makes for the continent.

Sparrow doesn’t pause to rest until they’re halfway to the Gardnerian mainland.

There’s a momentary, blessed lull in the fierce winds and the driving rain as the boat is gently jostled by the waves beneath them. Sparrow is panting heavily, raindrops coating her lips, her shoulders and arms on fire from rowing against the ocean’s stiff currents—currents that want to pull them south and way off course toward the dangerous whirlpool vortexes of the Southern Voltic Sea.

She shivers, drenched in chilling rain. She glances worriedly at Effrey, the child’s blanket soaked from the rain and ocean spray, his teeth chattering. He’s already sporting a vicious cold.

“Will I get to be myself in the Noi lands?” Effrey asks, a question he never tires of hearing the answer to.

“Yes,” Sparrow affirms, forcing optimism in her tone. “You can be your true self there.”

But not here. Here, Effrey has to dress like an Urisk girl, because being an Urisk male—a male who might harbor geomancy power—brings certain death in the Western Realm.

Sparrow glances behind them at the Fae Islands as their boat bobs in the unpredictable water and flashes of lightning periodically illuminate the world. The islands are like the back of a monster, hunching in the sea. She returns her gaze to the continent, at the huge mass of malignant land that lies between them and the longed-for East.

Sparrow imagines a larger boat with a well-appointed cabin, floating somewhere on the waters of the Eastern Realm. With a comfy bed to tuck Effrey into. Soft blankets. Abundant food. Books. And all the tools of her trade—a sewing machine, threads and fabrics, and everything else a seamstress could ever need, neatly stowed away.

It’s all she’s ever wanted in the whole world. Paid work as a seamstress, and a home of their own, even on a small boat. Where they can be safe and warm and dry on the waters of the Eastern Realm.

She might as well wish for a palace on a mountaintop, in this unforgiving world.

Still, in this blessed, brief instant, suspended between the yawning jaws of the prison that is Gardneria, Sparrow savors a small moment of safety. No Tilor. No menacing Mage soldiers. No threats of abuse.

Freedom.

A small, reptilian head pops out from under Effrey’s blankets, slender and bone white. The small creature sets its slitted, ruby-flaming eyes on Sparrow, and her illusion of safety shatters.

“No,”Sparrow gasps as she recoils. “Oh,no. Tell me that isnota stolen dragon.”

The dragon’s eyes narrow, its gleaming ivory horns sharp on its head. There are bloody gashes across its face and a metallic collar around its neck marked with glowing deep-green Gardnerian runes. Runes that cost a large number of guilders to procure.

Which means this dragon is the property of one of the wealthier Mages.

Effrey’s trembling mouth turns into a dejected frown. “Ihadto save him. They were using him as pit bait! He had no one. No one but me.”

The dragon sinks down below the blanket, those two defiant, fiery-red eyes peering out at Sparrow.

“He’s probably a full-grown dragon without that collar!” Sparrow cries, recognizing the runic collar that suppresses pit-dragon growth. “Effrey...that thing is dangerous. And the Mages pay a pretty guilder for even their bait dragons.” A heightened fear slides into her. “If they catch us and find we’ve taken him...”

“Theywon’tfind him,” Effrey insists, hugging the beast tight. “I’ll hide him. And soon his wing will heal, and he’ll be able to fly.”

“He’s a moonskin,” Sparrow notes, feeling increasingly light-headed. “They’re considered bad luck, you know. That’s why the Crows are using him for bait.”

Effrey hugs the ivory-hued dragon protectively to his chest as thunder cracks and the rain picks up. “Anything that’s bad luck for them has to be good luck for us.” Both the dragon and Effrey stare at Sparrow like they’re making all the sense in the world.

Sparrow’s mouth tightens into a thin, frustrated line.Foolish child and foolish dragon.

Their boat gives a sudden, violent pitch to the side.

Sparrow cries out from the unexpected force, scrabbling to grab on to the boat’s side with one hand, grabbing tight hold of Effrey with the other as a giant fist of a head blasts up from the ocean in an explosion of white spray, huge jaws, inky eyes, and lashing tentacles.

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