Page 95 of Forged in Flame and Shadow

I had to talk him down from that idea. I hadn’t noticed it so much at the manor, but seeing him in Gullert brought it home to me: Will is getting old. His once salt-and-pepper hair is now almost entirely gray, and the crow’s feet around his eyes are deep. I hope we won’t be walking into danger by going with the rebels, but it’s still a possibility, and I can’t stand the thought of puttinghimin that danger with us.

I sigh, frustrated by all the unknowns stacking up around me. The dryad-looking man is riding beside me, and I notice him flick his eyes in my direction. Tired of us all being so reserved, I speak up.

“Sene, quas leme fri Agaythrus?” I ask him.What part of Agathyre are you from?

He stares at me. “I’m not from Agathyre,” he replies in the common tongue.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed…” I trail off, worried I’ve offended him.

But he smiles wryly. “I wonder why. No, my mother was a dryad, but my father was Trovian.”

“I see.” It makes sense, but I’ve never met someone of mixed heritage before. The dryads usually keep to themselves, given how different our cultures are.

“Honestly, it sounds like your Agathyrian is better than mine,” he says. “My mother only taught me so much before she went back to the Miravow. I’m Mal, by the way.”

“Morgana,” I reply automatically.

“I know.” He raises an amused eyebrow.

“What I mean is, you can call me Morgana. You know, instead of princess or anything like that.”

His eyebrows rise a little higher. “Sounds good,” he says.

“You grew up here then?” I ask.

“Kestis. It’s a town near Xatus.”

I haven’t heard of it, but I nod. “And your power…it’s viatic?”

He grins, as if pleased that I asked. “Yep. No terrial magic here. Dad was disappointed, especially because he didn’t know the first thing about teaching me how to use my power, and Mom was already gone by then.” He shrugs. “But I picked things up on my own.”

I try not to look amazed. I’ve never considered the possibility of someone with viatic powers who wasn’t brought up in dryad culture. It means he wasn’t raised to think of violence as the ultimate sin, and he didn’t take the vow swearing to never knowingly harm someone. It also seems that he’s not harmed by separation from the Miravow like other dryads.

His attack on Alastor makes a lot more sense now, but I’m also vaguely disturbed. I’ve never seen viatic magic used to attack someone before. The idea of that magic being turnedagainstthe body…well, it’s a frightening prospect.

I examine Mal, as if somehow I’ll be able to determine if he would use his power for evil just by looking at him.

“I’m sorry about your friend. Really,” he says, making me wonder if he can read my thoughts.

“As long as he gets better like you promised, I’ll forgive you,” I say sternly.

He nods, like this is reasonable, then casts his eyes around the rest of the group.

“So, you guys are all fae, huh?” he says conversationally. Six pairs of eyes turn to stare at him.

“How did you know?” I ask.

“It’s a viatic thing—I get a sense for people when I’m around them. And fae, they just sort of feeldifferentto humans. More pointy, you know?”

Tira snorts as some of the soldiers glare. “That makes total sense,” she says.

“You’rehuman though,” he says to Tira.

“Yep.”

He squints ahead at Dots. “But your dog is weird.”

I laugh. “Don’t let Dots hear you say that.”

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