Page 41 of The Shadow Wand

“Fil’lori mir Asrai’il,” Asra’leen says, compassion in her sparkling eyes, her hand still outstretched.My Asrai sister.

Her heart so full of emotion it feels about to burst, Tierney steps into the light.

Her presence draws more curious stares, most of the young Asrai men and some of the young women doing a double take as they catch sight of her, their water magery dissipating or splashing down onto the black marble terrace.

There’s curiosity there, but also something else that Tierney is still adjusting to.

Bedazzlement.

It’s a disconcerting shift for Tierney, these admiring stares that she now draws, and she doesn’t know how to handle it. She had grown used to stares of repugnance and aversion in Gardneria, when she was glamoured to look like the ugliest of Mages with her pinched, severe face. But now, everything has changed.

She talked to Trystan about this during their journey here, the two of them sitting beside each other on a rock as they looked out over the Central Ishkartan Desert’s crimson sands, the landscape increasingly suffused with the sunset’s bloodred light.

“Have you noticed how spectacularly beautiful you are?” Trystan asked as he tossed her a wry look, his green eyes glinting.

“I’m not sure what to make of it,” Tierney answered, her brow knotting over this bewildering change. “It’s like no one saw me for who I really was in Gardneria,” she confided in him, baring her heart fully, which was a thing so easy to do with kind, nonjudgmental Trystan. “But now, it’s like I’m still being seen only for what I look like.”

Trystan nodded, then glanced at her knowingly, his lip lifting as he looked over her Asrai form. “I’d imagine this is a trace better, though.”

Tierney couldn’t help but smile, conceding, as she shot him a sardonic look. She lifted her arm, considering the gorgeous, rippling dark blue hue of her skin, entranced by her own changeable color. Then she let her hand fall back onto her knee as she met Trystan’s level gaze and a familiar, melancholy ache returned.

“I’m afraid I’ll never be truly seen,” she admitted, her voice barely audible even to herself.

Trystan was quiet for a long, considering moment. Then he turned to her, his eyes brimming with suppressed emotion.

“I understand,” he finally said.

“Asrai’a’lore Yl’orien’ir!” the Asrai with the cattail-decorated hair calls out to Tierney from across the sunlit terrace, enthusiastically cutting through Tierney’s fleeting recollection as the young woman approaches along with the androgynous, willowy Fae.Welcome to the fold, Water Fae.

A swirl of joyful water power rises within Tierney in response to her immediate acceptance.

“This is Torryn,” Asra’leen says in Asrai as she smiles and sweeps her hand gracefully toward the cattail woman. “And Ra’in.” She beams as the lily-crowned Fae throws a slender arm around Asra’leen and smiles at Tierney through lovely turquoise-lashed eyes.

“We’re happy to have you among us,” Ra’in says in Asrai, and Tierney is transfixed by their beauty and the lilting voice that’s as melodic as an early summer stream. And by Ra’in’s blaring individuality that clearly refuses to be confined, just as all their Fae natures are no longer confined here. It’s an incredible thing, this freedom to be oneself without danger.

There’s a huge splashing disturbance in the Vo River, just past a break in the curving railing where the terrace’s stone angles down to meet the water for runic water vessels to launch.

A dragon made from water suddenly bursts from the Vo’s churning knot of water, and Tierney’s head jerks back in surprise. The water dragon spirals up to meet with the sky, translucent water-wings stretching out, large as sails.

A Fae male made entirely of water strides out of the spray trailing the water dragon’s ascent and steps onto the terrace, a blast of his water power eddying through Tierney with the force of a hurricane. The young man’s glistening form morphs from water to flesh, his spiky, wet hair glittering every shade of blue in the sun, his ears rising to points. He throws one hand over his shoulder, effortlessly wicking the water from his pants and body, his movements strong and graceful as a flowing river.

Tierney watches him, transfixed, as her water magic lurches toward the formidable young Asrai, storm clouds kicking up inside her from the sheer force of his presence, and she struggles to keep them from manifesting in the air above.

He’s devastatingly handsome, with strong deep-blue features and a tall, powerful frame. And, scandalously, he’s not wearing a tunic, his muscles rippling and coated in a slick stream of sweet Vo water, his dark blue nipples exposed.

Tierney’s heart pounds as she quickly averts her eyes and swallows abashedly as he approaches.

“Is that Fyordin?” Tierney asks Asra’leen in a strained voice.

“It is,” Asra’leen says then raises her hand toward the half-naked Fae. “Fyordin!” She gives him a friendly wave, as if his partial nudity is normal here.

Fyordin nears, and Tierney is overcome by another strong wave of his water power as it courses through her in an exhilarating rush. She pulls in a hard breath and lifts her eyes to meet Fyordin’s dark blue gaze.

His power gives a palpable flare of interest as his lips quirk up, and Tierney takes in the metallic blue hoops lining his pointed ears, embarrassment sizzling through her over the fact that his brazenly exposed nipples are also pierced.

“This is Tierney Calix,” Asra’leen announces, a hush falling over the entire group of Asrai as Tierney’s heartbeat quickens and she averts her gaze from Fyordin’s once more.

“Asrai’il,”Fyordin says, breaking the silence, his authoritative voice flowing deep into her. She can feel his torrent of power in the center of that voice. And she has to draw up every storming thing inside her to keep from being submerged in it.

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