Page 145 of The Demon Tide

I ball the fist of my wand hand, my earth magic shivering as I wrestle back the urge to press my palm to every bit of wood and send power through it.

Or’myr draws his wand and sets to lighting lanterns, lilac illumination suffusing the room as he grabs hold of a strand of crystalline purple stones and a grimoire, muttering to himself in Uriskal about “finding a good geo-amplification of Sage’s spells” as he thumbs through one of the tomes.

“Let’s try the zoisite stone,” Or’myr murmurs as his long finger skims down the page. He sets down the grimoire and looks to me. “Hold out your arm, Elloren.”

I raise my arm, and Or’myr commences wrapping the crystalline strand around its length, the plum-colored stones so dark they’re almost black. He touches his wand to one of the stones. “I’m working on a hunch here,” he explains, a rich violet glow lighting the stone. “This should shave a few hours off the process of unbinding your power. While we wait, we can review defensive spells and place a proper geo-shield around you...we’ve more than enough time, cousin, but we’ll need to finish some of this before the Xishlon moon rises. It’s frustratingly difficult to concentrate around its thrall—”

“Or’myr,” I cut in, anxiety jabbing through both his muttering and my focus-scrambling pull toward all the wood in the room. “What happens to my brothers and everyone else if the Vu Trin take them into custody?”

Or’myr’s green eyes flick up to meet mine, a somber light in them. “They’ll question them and possibly hold them for a bit. No harm will come to them, Elloren. The Vu Trin aren’t going to slay the alphas of the Lupine army along with their most powerful Light Mage, or any of their other formidable allies—and we simply want Vang Troi to speak with you.”

“It’s not that simple, Or’myr.”

“I know it, cousin,” he grimly rejoins.

“And then there’s the Prophecy—”

“Vang Troi isn’t beholden to that,” he emphatically counters as he lights up another crystal. “This is the same woman who let your brother into the Wyvernguard despite multiple petitions and protests, as well as a number of other Mages and Mage-blooded soldiers, myself included. She’s a maverick, but she’s also the military genius responsible for keeping your grandmother out of the East during the Realm War, so she’s granted quite a bit of leeway by the Noi Conclave. And don’t forget, the Icaral of Prophecy himself is lobbying on your behalf.”

“Still...if she denies Yvan,” I press, “where does that leave you?”

He pauses, meeting my gaze. “Elloren, I’m with you.”

“But you’ve only just met me.”

He shrugs. “I’ve gotten to know Trystan quite well in a short span of time. And... Tierney, as well.” I notice his magic kicks up when he says Tierney’s name. “I tend to follow my gut on these things,” he adds. “I’m with you.”

I let out a long, shuddering breath. “Thank you, Or’myr.”

He gives me a small smile as he finishes charging the crystals, then falls back into muttering to himself about which magicked stones are likely to provide the best geo-shield. I look around, my gaze snagging on a nearby shelf covered in small pieces of every type of wood I could imagine. My magic gives a hard lurch toward it.

I reach out to touch a few of the curving, knotty pieces—pine, cypress, cedar, ash, oak. Repeated waves of delicious rapture course through my lines as each tree unfolds in my mind, a whole forest of them. Enthralled, I pick up a gorgeous fragment of silver wood marbled with veins of bone-white. Awe shudders through me as an Alfsigr Elm tree expands in my mind. I close my eyes and breathe deep, lost to the wood’s sparkling canopy.

“Can you envision trees?” Or’myr asks, cutting into my wood-trance, his tone one of complete astonishment.

I open my eyes to find him frozen, staring at me. “Can you, as well?” I ask.

He swallows, nodding. “I never thought I’d meet anyone else who could do it.”

We hold each other’s gaze in mutual wonderment, the whole world paused by the incredible prospect of sharing this ability with someone.

“I had a collection of wood as a child,” I finally blurt out. “I hid themeverywhere.”

“I did too,” he confides, suddenly just as breathless.

“Here.” I tentatively slide the wood toward him. “Touch it with me.”

Eyes widening another fraction, he complies, folding his hand over mine, his fingertips sliding down to meet with the wood.

The moment he makes contact with it, the tree-vision intensifies and I let out a small huff, silver-leafed branches swooping in to enfold us both as the entire elm grove forms around us. We both inhale, an enraptured shudder passing through our combined magic.

Or’myr releases the wood at the same time I do, the grove-vision dissipating as the two of us hold each other’s stunned stares.

“I wonder...” I venture in an unsteady voice, “if we’d been allowed to grow up together...” my lip tics up in a rueful smile “...I wonder if we might have had a secret collection.” A sudden pang knots deep in my chest, and it’s clear from my cousin’s tense expression that he feels it too. Because we shouldn’t be discovering these things only now.

Or’myr is quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry we never got to do that, cousin.”

“I had to hide this affinity over there,” I falteringly tell him. “Because it’s a Fae draw.”

---