Page 44 of The Shadow Wand

Tierney reaches out to touch the cool, flowing surface of Es’tryl’lyan’s back as she gives Fyordin a lethal smile. “I have an army, Fyordin Lir. And we plan on fighting Marcus Vogel’s forces with anyone who will ally with us.”

Furious, Tierney turns on her heels and stalks away from them all, the storm cloud above her head strengthening and spitting lightning as she throws out her arm and sends her kelpies back to the water and then doggedly makes her way across the broad terrace toward the Death Fae.

“Tierney,” Asra’leen calls after her, the sound of the young Fae’s booted feet splashing over the water-slicked terrace.

Her water magic churning with resentment, Tierney grits her teeth and slows to a begrudging stop, her gaze still set on the Death Fae, who is steadily watching her from the terrace’s farthest end.

“Tierney, please,” Asra’leen pleads, her voice shot through with contrition.

Tierney lets out a long sigh and turns. She can see, from the remorseful look on Asra’leen’s face, that she’s genuinely concerned, her prismatic shimmer dimmed. But it’s not enough to quell the angry hurt roiling inside Tierney.

“I think you’re supposed to shun me now,” Tierney snipes, knowing even as she says it that she’s being wildly unfair to Asra’leen, who has been nothing but kind to her.

Asra’leen’s face tenses with hurt, but she appears to shake it off quickly, the deep blue of her eyes darkening with a stubborn light. “I’ll do no such thing.”

Tierney raises a blue brow at Asra’leen’s impassioned declaration, some solid will behind it.

I’ve misjudged her, Tierney considers.She’s made of sterner stuff than her dancing rainbows and affinity for a small waterfall would seem to indicate.

“I can see that this is...complicated for you,” Asra’leen falteringly offers. She glances back toward the Asrai massed on the terrace behind them.

Tierney’s gaze briefly meets Fyordin’s, a flash of ire passing between them as the powerful Fae sweeps up his hand and blasts a waterspout from the Vo to fly straight up and scatter amidst the clouds above.

A warning.

Fine, Tierney thinks, glaring at Fyordin.It’s on. I’m taking the Vo.

“Where are you going?” Asra’leen asks Tierney, her foam-white brow crinkling. “You’ll be disciplined if you leave...”

“I will not train with Fyordin Lir,” Tierney snaps with an emphatic slice of her hand. “I’m going to petition to be assigned to a different division.” She inclines her head toward the dark young man in the distance. “And I’m going to go over there and talk to that Death Fae.”

Alarm explodes over Asra’leen’s features. She swallows as she side-eyes the Death Fae. “Tierney,” she warns, low and emphatic, “don’t go near him. They’re not like us. Their magic isn’t elemental. It’s primordial and dangerous. They shouldn’t even be here in the Wyvernguard. All of the religions here mark them as demonic—”

“No,”Tierney spits out with a derisive glare. “I just came from Gardneria. You’re going to have to find something better than religious arguments to get me to shun anyone. I’ll figure out for myself who’s a demon and who’s not.”

Asra’leen takes hold of her arm with a nervous glance in the Death Fae’s direction. “They can read your fear and feed on it. They can pull you under a thrall, and they test you with animals that can kill you. So they can grab hold of a thread of your fear and control you.”Her tone turns adamant.“Tierney, he might be stalking you. They do that. Stay away from him.”

Skepticism rises in Tierney. “And yet they’re the only ones willing to give Trystan Gardner a chance.” Recklessly decided, Tierney turns away from Asra’leen and makes for the Death Fae.

“Tierney...wait!” Asra’leen cries out from behind her, but Tierney ignores her, ignores the collective looks of surprise from the Fire Fae division as she passes them by and homes right in on the dark figure and his unblinking stare.

CHAPTER FIVE

DEATH FAE

TIERNEY CALIX

SixthMonth

Eastern Realm,

the Wyvernguard

Approaching the Death Fae is like approaching a void, his dark form still as Tierney strides across the Wyvernguard’s stone terrace, rapidly closing the distance between them. For a moment, there’s the sense of slowing down even as Tierney picks up her brisk pace, the distance between herself and the motionless Fae seeming to telescope backward as the entire world dims.

Her heartbeat quickening, Tierney continues to press on toward the Death Fae’s hypnotic form as he reclines against the terrace’s railing, pale hands gripping stone. He’s long and slender, but she has the growing sense of vast power contained in his streamlined frame, his face all angles and shadows, his Wyvernguard uniform tinted black, as if someone has poured ink over the sapphire fabric and the embroidered dragon flowing down its center.

Tierney notes his nails are also black and sharpened to points.

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