Page 49 of The Dryad Storm

Beating back her turbulent emotions, Gwynn nods, stiffening against the way her magic leaps toward Mavrik’s as he slides in behind her, reaches out, and closes his wand hand around hers.

The flashing exchange of their power shocks through Gwynn as their lines connect.

She inhales at the same time that Mavrik does, his hand tightening around hers.

“What magic should I try?” she murmurs, flustered by the surge of her light magery and Mavrik’s proximity.

“Fashion Mageline-connection runes,” he slyly suggests.

She glances at him over her shoulder as comprehension of his intention triggers a more complicated idea.

“I should tryIssanipower-connection runes,” she counters. “I can imprint one on each of us and set down a Noi flow rune between them to amplify the connection. It might set up a transient linkage that’smuchstronger than a Mage ward.”

Mavrik’s brow lifts with obvious surprise before he grins wolfishly at her. Gwynn’s thoughts scatter a bit, the feral masculinity of that grin combined with the feel of his hand wrapped around hers bringing herright backto his exciting kiss.

“That’s wickedly clever,” he purrs, looking her over as if seeing her, once more, in an expanded light. “Try it,” he prods with a devilish grin. “Access your magic, Light Mage.”

Giddy from his encouragement—encouragement to own her power that no one has ever given her before—Gwynn pulls in a deep breath and murmurs the spell.

Small sparks of bright yellow light spurt from the wand’s tip, and a startled sound escapes Gwynn, her pulse accelerating. As her wand hand trembles in Mavrik’s grip, the yellow sparks fizzle out before they can even begin to form a rune, but still.

Still.

She coaxed actual light magic into existence.

Hermagic.

From awand.

For a moment Gwynn can barely summon a breath. She chances a look at Mavrik to find him grinning dangerously at her, the threads of color shimmering over his lips brightened along with the energy tingling over hers at the remembrance of how his thrilling kiss blasted their magic to more potent life.

The thought slips out before she can fully process it—

“We should kiss to amplify my power.”

Mavrik’s eyes widen slightly, and she stiffens, nearly overcome by the strength of the ingrained, cultural pushback ricocheting through her over so brazenly wanting things a Styvian Gardnerian woman isnever supposed to ever wantunless it’s sanctioned and controlled by the Magedom itself.

Power over her own magic.

And Mavrik’s lips on hers.

Religious conflict storms through her, fiercer than the inside of any storm band, and she looks at the red sand at her feet, readying herself for the Ancient One Himself to strike her down.

Mavrik’s hand comes to her shoulder. “Gwynn, look at me.”

Raging against the rise of mortal fear, she does.

“I think you might be on to something,” he offers. “But we need to be honest about how overwhelming this thrall between us feels. Which makes it dangerous. We can kiss to try and free up your magic, and not go any further with it. Gwynn, wecan’tgo any further with it,ever. It has to be said.”

The full cruelty of her fasting is suddenly bearing down on Gwynn, her fastmarks an unbreakable prison. She can sense, in the mutual desire flickering in Mavrik’s look, that the subtext blazing between them doesn’t need to be voiced. They’re both clear that what transpired between them last night wasn’t just about a magical bond. His kiss was an explosively thrilling pleasure and a comfort, lighting her up in a way Geoffreyneverlit her up. Leaving her both frustrated and ashamed to be suddenly considering that type of connection with someone she’s not fasted to.

“I loved my fastmate,” Gwynn admits, feeling poised on yet another life-altering, unforgivable precipice.

“I’m sorry, Gwynnifer,” Mavrik says with a look of pained commiseration.

She holds his gaze, impassioned conflict rising. “I never thought I’d ever want anyone else...”

Mavrik takes a step back, shaking his head as if warding off their magical pull. “We can’t dare to think that way. Not bound up in fasting spells.” He gives her a stricken, searching look, gesturing toward the wand in her hand. “Gwynn, what do you want to do?”

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