Page 81 of A Kingdom of Destruction

Aven went in the opposite direction from the merriment.

Through the halls, out into the garden, and along the winding paths to the trees beyond.

The moment she had put enough distance between herself and the palace, she drew the wand out of the back of her dress and stared at it—the long slender reed of wood she’d used on countless occasions. It looked absolutely normal upon first glance, felt solid in her hand, yet if she looked at it too long, the edges began to blur in a corona of magic. The wand pulsed once, and heat spread through her.

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

Pay in flesh?

Shehadpaid, more times than she could count. Every time she had a rune inked on her skin, every time she used the wand to redo them and keep the tattoos strong and stable.

Yet it wasn’t the kind of payment they wanted.

Because she’d taken too many lives.

The thought of inking another rune on herself, whether with her wand or not, brought a wave of queasiness. She needed to getrid of those runes and destroy the wand. So far, she’d been lucky. Too lucky by all accounts.

She’d already been responsible for a fae guard’s death when he caught her redoing them.

Aven shook her head, swallowing down over the bile burning the inside of her throat in an attempt to keep it down.

This has to stop. With her.

Although it cracked something in her heart, she ripped the sleeves off her dress. The fabric tore in pieces, fluttering down to the ground like broken butterfly wings. Her scars stood to attention, one on either arm and large enough to cover the entirety of her bicep.

She’d covered them too many times to count now with the strongest runes of the stolen fae magic. For bravery and strength and speed.

It felt too hard to think about what was done and everything she’d lost. Everything these people had lost. She might have hated the fae as a whole once, but she wondered if her hatred had ever reached the acidic levels of the people she’d heard today. Those who remained in the protection of the town and never saw the bloodshed of the killing fields.

She focused on the wand, tapping it to her arm. Magic pulsed from the wood and warmed the moment it touched her skin. The familiar tingle of power spread through her, winding along the dark lines of the runes. She willed them to disappear. She no longer needed them here. Not for cunning on the field or strength to wield her weapons. Those things were long gone now, completely outside the realm and scope of her new life.

The runes remained in place, her skin tingling underneath the power of the wand, strengthened by being so close to the root of its making.

She tried one, then the other, but the scars remained. They’d been redone too many times to count now. Although the darkink of the runes grew dimmer, the lines remained on her skin, raised and angry looking since she tried to mess with them.

“No, come on. Go away! Damn you.”

Aven repeated the process with both arms. Anger simmered inside her at the scars on her skin. The lines were prominent—a part of her now. Unable to be removed. Only hidden.

She choked down a sob and grabbed the wand, bending the wood between both hands to snap it in two. No matter what she tried?—

The wand remained whole.

She kicked it, slammed it against the ground, bent it into an angle, only to have it snap back into place. The magic gave another pulse before the wand fell silent.

“How in the world did we missthat?You certainly are enterprising. Aren’t you?”

She didn’t jump when Roran snuck up on her. Only hurried to turn and keep him from seeing her arms. “Maybe you weren’t thorough enough when you brought me in. After all, you drew the line at a cavity search,” she said, overwrought.

Roran’s attention focused on the wand like he could see the magic inside of it. And knew exactly where it had come from. “You shouldn’t have it. It’s not yours, and you have no idea what kind of magic it’s capable of bestowing in the wrong hands.”

“Why do you think I’m trying to destroy it?” The fight lifted her hackles, and she faced him fully, letting him see the heat of rage and sorrow inside her. “I want it gone. I don’t want anything to do with it anymore, but it won’t break.”

“Because you’re not strong enough to do so. Not this close to the Darkroot. With fae strength, it can be done, but I’m not going to let you.” He bent to snap it out of her hands and stooped, his eyes narrowing on her arms. Her scars.

She forced herself to take in a long, steady breath. “Please. Stop looking at me.”

Roran didn’t turn around. He didn’t move, only shifted to clench his jaw. “What happened?”

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