Page 22 of The Demon Tide

Heelyn seems taken aback but shakes it off, a sly, conspiratorial look sliding over her features. “We blocked his wand.”

I freeze. My gaze snaps toward where Trystan is getting ready to square off against ten soldiers, my pulse kicking up. Trystan is about to be seriously injured.

“Ready your weapons!” Commander Ung Li commands.

A storm bursts to life inside my power, and I’m unable to hold my protest back.

“Wait!” I call out and step toward Ung Li, heart thudding. Not able to look at Trystan. Inwardly cursing him for what I’m about to do.

But it’s not fair to give him a blocked wand. It’sabsolutely unfair.

“He’s got a blocked wand,” I inform Ung Li, hyperaware of Heelyn’s furious glare knifing into my back.

Ung Li scowls at me as she holds out her hand toward Trystan, and I feel her ire like a spitting storm, directed at me and all the apprentices at my back. “Give me your wand, Trystan Gardner,” she orders.

Outrage sweeps through my fellow apprentices. Outrage directed atme.

Trystan strides forward and passes over the wand. Ung Li runs her rune-marked hands over its slim surface, then grips it in both fists before closing her eyes and murmuring a spell. The runes on her hands brighten from black to sapphire, her fists raying out a flash of blue light. She opens her eyes, unmistakably infuriated. Her gaze rakes over us, and I wait as my internal power storms into chaos.

“Hand me a new wand,” Ung Li directs her Vu Trin assistant, the black-clad Fir Yyo.

Fir Yyo retrieves a new weapon, gives it to Ung Li for inspection, then proffers it to Trystan, her cold, wary manner making it clear that she views him as an evil she must endure.

“Mage Gardner,” Commander Ung Li says, casting a glare his way, “I’ll check your weapons myself from now on.”

I can read the devastation storming through Trystan’s power, even though he keeps his expression carefully blank. “Yes, Commander Ung Li,” he responds with a Noi salute, fist to his uniformed chest. Ung Li’s formidable stare flicks over the gesture with obvious disdain.

My heart lodges in my throat.This is wrong.

It was wrong of Heelyn and whoever else was involved. They could have killed him.

When he’s genuinely here to fight on our side.

“You helped me. Why?” Trystan asks that evening when we reach his barrack’s door.

I hesitate as I struggle to suppress my power’s draw toward him and can sense him doing the same. “Because I know you’re telling the truth,” I admit. “I know you’re here to fight with us.”

Trystan nods and we both grow silent, our power contained. Forcefully. Barely.

Trystan pulls in a breath, regarding me squarely. “Thank you, Vothe,” he says, our eyes locked, and something about the way he says my name sends a tremor up my spine.

He closes the door, and I hesitate, feeling flustered. I can sense Sylla Vuul’s eyes on me from somewhere inside the hallway’s dark tunnel of webs. Not wanting to hear her annoyingly blunt Death Fae truths at this moment, I turn on my heel and stride from the hall toward the barrack’s central spiraling staircase. Trystan’s night guard is visible below, talking to another Noi sorceress, an odd animosity riding on the air.

“Are you a Mage lover now?” a familiar voice sounds, and I turn to find Heelyn leaning against a torchlit wall, arms crossed. Clearly lying in wait for me.

I huff out a sigh, having known this reckoning would come. Heelyn is not one to back down from a confrontation. Ever.

“No, Heelyn,” I shoot back as blue torchlight flickers over us both. “I’m a lover of fairness. Trystan Gardner is here to fight on our side. You could have killed him.”

Heelyn’s dark gaze turns incendiary. “So, you think he should be here now?”

Traitor.

She doesn’t need to voice the word. It hangs in the air between us, thrusting me into turmoil. I’m clear on where this path could lead. It could set me against all my friends and family. Against the Wyvernguard hierarchy and the majority of the Noi Conclave. I think of my uncle Sholin, cast out of Zhilaan when he befriended and then bonded to a Mage.

“I don’t know what to think, Heelyn,” I say, my power churning.

We glare at each other for a protracted, excruciating moment.

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