Page 28 of The Wand of Lore

Vaylor shrugged and pursed his lips. “I don’t know, Gwenneth. But this isn’t the time to explore scholarly curiosities. Your life is in danger anywhere near the city. You’ll have to hide your wand and conceal your identity. Otherwise, if the king’s guards don’t find you, the city folk will. If they kill you, that will be more merciful than captivity as a King’s witch.”

She pulled out of his arms and stared at him.

“Is that what you do? Drag witches unwillingly to the capital into the hands of the king?”

Vaylor also stepped back as his face flushed. He hadn’t expected her to guess something so close to the truth so quickly. “No. I have never dragged a witch to captivity. It’s just, well, you should think of me as a captive too. I do as he bids or I face retribution.”

“You’re a coward, Marvin. What are you doing with me? Are you really guiding me into the castle to help me find the wand? Or are you hand-delivering a willing witch to serve in his army? You don’t drag witches, you just escort them willingly across the country?”

“That’s not all true. I . . .” Though he had rehearsed responses for this day, now he could think of none.

“I cared about you. I knew better, but I let myself care about you!” Her voice was growing steadily louder until she whirled away from him and began frantically pacing around the field.

“You kissed me. I let you kiss me, and the goddesses witnessed us making love, and all the while you were with them.”

She stopped and stared at him.

“You and Greyson were working together, weren’t you? He knew all along that you were escorting me to captivity. Wasyour sob story even real? Is your curse real? You’re a monster, and I don’t want to see you ever again.”

“No, please. It’s not like that,” said Marvin. He clutched his elbows as if hugging himself.

“Preposterous. Selfish. For you to imagine for even a second thatyouare the victim here.”

Vaylor looked at the ground, not daring to meet her gaze.

“Well? Am I wrong?” she asked. She took a step closer and lifted his face to meet hers. “Tell me I’m wrong,” she whispered.

Vaylor hung his head. “You’re not wrong,” he replied.

“Where do I find my mother’s wand? Is it even here, or was that just a lie?”

“It’s there! I mean, I don’t know if it is or not, but I do know where the king keeps his favorite relics, such as a powerful wand. He hides them in the catacombs, under the bones of Great King Brindon in the furthest tunnel.”

“Where do I find these catacombs?”

“Please, Gwenneth, don’t go alone. You won’t survive.”

“At this point, traveling with you seems to be the most dangerous option. Where are they?” Her voice was cold and flat.

“The walls just past this grove surround Gorenth. You’d have to go through the city to reach the gates to the castle grounds. They are usually open to the people of the kingdom, so long as there are no active threats. The castle itself is well-guarded, and any witch would do well to stay clear of the entrance, but the surrounding grounds are frequented by visitors, merchants, and many others.”

“Where are the catacombs?”

“In the westernmost part of the grounds, there is a stairway hidden in the bushes behind a stone mausoleum. Go down the stairway. Best you bring a light source with you—youdon’t want to be down there alone, and the king keeps it locked at all times.” He shuddered.

“Very well,” said Gwenneth as she spun away from him.

“No, please, you can’t go alone. You won’t survive.”

She stopped and looked back at him. “For the last several days, I have known that you were untrustworthy. I have felt it in my bones, but I have ignored it. I won’t do that anymore.” Gwenneth turned, moved to the horse, and removed her pack. Without another word, she walked through the grove back to the path and headed toward the towers of Gorenth.

Vaylor watched her disappear. Even though he yearned to call out or run to her and explain himself, he didn’t, because what else was there to say? There was one bright part to his life, and there she was vanishing into the distance. He sat under the tree and slumped against the trunk, knowing that in moments, the walls around the castle would swallow her and he’d never see her again. He kicked the grass with his heels, then winced as he felt the familiar throb of the curse. He didn’t have to check it to know it was expanding. Without Gwenneth, he was doomed, but no matter. What difference would it make to him if he was subsumed by darkness? He had lost Gwenneth, and he had lost any semblance of family. He had chosen his father’s hollow promises over this vibrant and alive woman. Minutes turned to hours, and still he sat under the tree, feeling the curse spread ever further as the sun started to set and the air grew chilly.

A spider crawled up his leg, and though he felt it tickling his skin, he did nothing. As night fell, he shivered and rubbed the spot in his chest where the emptiness ached most. Still he didn’t move. Where would he go? He must have fallen asleep and woke to the sound of horses’ hooves and boisterous laughter coming from the road. He sat still, waiting for the party to pass, but their words caught his ears.

“No report from his keeper for some time, but the last one we got indicates she could even be in Gorenth by now!”

“What fun we’ll have, hunting an unsuspecting witch in our very own home!”

---