Page 35 of The Shadow Wand

Vothe takes in the surreptitious, encouraging stares being sent to him by every Vu Trin apprentice and soldier they pass, their expressions conveying unspoken solidarity—Drive him out.

“So, I have a guard,” Trystan Gardner says, his words edged with the slimmest trace of derision.

Vothendrile swivels his head toward the Gardnerian and is met by a quick glare, the air charged between them.

A crackle of lightning sparks through Vothe. “Of course you have a guard,” Vothe shoots back, suppressing a snarl. “I’ll guard you throughout the day and you’ll have another guard stationed at your barracks through the night.” Truly, Vothe is amazed by the contempt radiating off of this Mage. And his sheer audacity in questioning the need for a guard.

Really, how dare he? After shouldering his way in here. The grandson of the Black Witch, of all people. Here, at the esteemed Wyvernguard. Despite the protests. Despite the petition Vothe quickly organized and sent to both the Vu Trin Tribunal and the Noi Conclave. All of it ignored by High Commander Vang Troi, their highest-ranking military sorceress.

Even though close to no one wants the grandson of the Black Witch here.

“You’ll shadow me, then, everywhere I go?” the Mage asks coldly as they walk.

Vothe smiles charmingly at him, even as lightning spits in his vision. “I will, Gardnerian. And if you stray one inch from the orders set down by the Wyvernguard and Ung Li, I will drag you to the Vu Trin Tribunal by the scruff of your refined Gardnerian neck.”

Trystan Gardner smirks at this as they both slow to a stop, a spike of hard anger flaring in the Gardnerian’s eyes as he faces Vothe, and Vothe is instantly taken aback by the sudden sense of this Mage’s water power swelling, fierce and implacable.

Trystan looks Vothe up and down, and there’s a flash of the Mage’s own lightning in that look. “You could try,” he counters, lip lifting.

Oh, that’s rich.Vothe grins at him with cool amusement as he lets his gleaming black horns spiral up from his head. “Did they tell you who I am?” he purrs.

“I’m guessing a Zhilon’ileWyvern-shifter of the Eastern dragonkin,” Trystan states with matter-of-fact severity. “Quite powerful, I’d wager.”

“That’s right, Trystan Gardner, and don’t you forget it,” Vothe croons, leaning in, filled with the sudden urge to release his wings in a potent display. “I’m clear that you’re a Level Five Mage. Of extraordinary power.Growingpower. But don’t think for asecondthat I can’t best you.”

Again, the Gardnerian dons that look of icy contempt with a blistering defiance riding just underneath it. Trystan’s lip lifts in another slight, frigid smirk. “I’d never presume to have anything but the utmost confidence in my new guard, Vothendrile.”

Vothe narrows his lightning eyes on Trystan as the Mage resumes his pace and Vothe falls in beside him.

My, this one keeps himself carefully under wraps, Vothe seethes as he pulls his horns back in. The sense of being faced with something completely unexpected settles over Vothe, and he’s disturbed by it.

He’s going to have to keep a closer eye on Trystan Gardner than he thought. It’s clear that Mage Gardner answers to no one but himself, no matter how insistent the threats leveled against him. No, he’s not easily intimidated, this one.

I’ll just have to try harder.

“You’re not wanted here,” Vothe informs him with open venom.

Again, that wry smirk. “I’m well aware,” Trystan replies. “But Iamhere, and I’m not going anywhere, so you’d best get used to me.”

Vothe can’t keep the caustic sarcasm out of his own tone and doesn’t want to. “So, you want to be somewhere where everyone hates you?”

Trystan’s face remains calm, but fire flashes in his eyes as he slows once more to a stop to face Vothe.

When it comes, Trystan Gardner’s voice is controlled, almost polite, but Vothe can sense the guttering flame riding through it. “I want to be somewhere where I can join an army and fight the Gardnerians and the Alfsigr and every last one of their allies with every last shred of power in me.” Trystan takes a confrontational step toward Vothe. “I don’t care if you hate me. I don’t care if every last person in the Wyvernguard hates me. You have noideawhat you’re up against.”

The Mage turns and begins walking again at a faster clip, as if he can’t wait to be rid of Vothe so he can get settled here and get on with it, and Vothe has, in that moment, a disturbing sense of the true, unbreachable, single-minded purpose in this Gardnerian.

As they ascend a large, spiraling staircase, an unpleasant edge of conflict roils in Vothendrile because the flow of this Crow’s power and the emotions he can scent on him are not at odds with his words.

What if he’s telling the truth?

“You expect me to believe that the grandson of the Black Witch is honestly on our side?” Vothe snipes at Trystan Gardner’s back as they stomp up the steps.

Trystan briefly turns, his expression hard. “I really don’t care what you think, Vothendrile.”

They step off the staircase and start down another shadowy, arcing hallway, and Vothendrile takes the lead, both of them seemingly lost now in private, heated fuming.

Vothendrile counts down the barracks-door numbers, growing increasingly suspicious. His lightning gives a chaotic flare as they turn the corner and he realizes what Ung Li has done.

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