The Shadow Wand Read online

  Sparrow’s brow furrows, her violet-lashed eyes still fixed on me as her hands grip the edge of her seat. “Mage Gardner... Fallon Bane’s looking for you,” she blurts out stiffly. “She’s still in love with Lukas Grey.”

  I blink at her, my fingers tightening around the wooden shard in my hand, a jolt of power shuddering through my lines. I hold up my other hand for her to peruse, my palm out to reveal the web of black fastlines marked across it. “Well, that’s just too bad for her, isn’t it?” I bitterly counter. “It’s done. I’m fasted to him.”

  Sparrow’s grave stare is unwavering. “A priest can lift Lukas’s fasting if you die.”

  A tense silence descends.

  Sparrow’s expression remains dead serious as I take in her obvious warning with all the gravity it deserves, a rush of concern prickling my whole body with gooseflesh.

  It’s true. Whereas the fastmarks of a female Mage are permanent no matter what, a Mage Priest is able to lift a male’s fasting spell if his fastmate dies. It’s worked right into the spell’s language.

  My breath grows strained in my chest as I realize the very plausible reason that Evelyn has me dressed like a scarlet beacon, so easy to find amidst a sea of black.

  So easy for Fallon Bane to find.

  So that she can break this fasting the only way possible.

  No, I argue with myself. That’s too extreme. Even for Fallon.

  I’m filled with a sudden, urgent longing to have the Wand of Myth in my hand. But it’s back in my bedroom, hidden in my travel sack under the bed.

  Even if I had the Wand—or any wand, for that matter—how could I possibly protect myself with it? I don’t know how to control the devastating power I’d release.

  I lean toward Sparrow, my pulse quickening. “If Fallon uses magic to attack a fellow Mage, they’ll strip her of military ranking and throw her in prison.”

  Sparrow hesitates, then leans in as well, throwing a quick glance at the guards that flank our carriage before setting her gaze back on me. Her lips twist. “She’s the Black Witch. They’ll never throw her in prison.” Her expression darkens, her brow creasing. “She was at the estate earlier,” she says, her tone ominous. “She and Mage Evelyn Grey, they spoke.”

  A cold sweat breaks out along the back of my neck. “Did you hear what they said?”

  Sparrow shakes her head, the warning in her eyes undiminished.

  My mind whirls. “My aunt... Vyvian Damon,” I press. “Do you know if she’ll be at tonight’s ball?” My stomach lurches at the thought of seeing Aunt Vyvian again, a slash of vengeful fire knifing through my affinity lines. But as much as I despise her and she likely despises me, I know that Aunt Vyvian has a vested interest in my living long enough for Lukas Grey to sire powerful Mage children with me.

  “Mage Damon is in the Verpacian Province with a few Mage Council members,” Sparrow grimly tells me. “They’re meeting with the Alfsigr Royal Council, to finalize the division of the Lupine territories between the Gardnerians and the Alfsigr. She doesn’t return until tomorrow.”

  My sense of urgency heightens. “Do you have any idea when Lukas is arriving at the ball?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. But he has to come. Vogel has required that several of his commanders, including Lukas, be there tonight. Vogel has some important announcement to make, and the Mages are celebrating Gardneria’s annexation of huge swaths of the Western Realm. Lukas is the commander who oversaw Keltania’s annexation. He has to be there. He might have already come.”

  I don’t have time to wonder at Sparrow knowing all of this in so much detail as fierce apprehension whips up inside me.

  Fallon can’t hurt me, I desperately reason with myself. She absolutely cannot hurt me. Hated or not, I’m Carnissa Gardner’s granddaughter, and my fastmarks are chastely intact.

  But will Fallon really lose anything if she comes after me? Especially if she does it in some covert way, like she did back when we were both scholars at university?

  I remember the chilling smile on Mage Evelyn Grey’s lips when she informed me I was to go to the ball. Is that what Lukas’s mother was plotting? To send me into Fallon Bane’s path?

  Am I being sent to my own execution?

  “I can’t make a run for it,” I say in a constricted voice, my eyes flicking toward the soldiers outside. “Not with how Lukas’s mother has me guarded. I’m going to have to go into the Council Hall.”

  “It’s a large hall, Mage, and I know it well,” Sparrow says evenly, her gaze tight on mine as I sense us falling in with each other.

  “I need your help,” I admit.

  “I know,” she says with a grim nod. “I’ll help you.”

  I’m stunned by the aid she’s offering. She’s taking an incredible risk, throwing her lot in with mine. And I realize, as my mind whirls, that Sparrow’s own situation must be almost as monstrously bad as mine to make the possibility of me as an ally worth risking everything for.

  “You’ll need to stay out of Fallon’s sight,” Sparrow warns. “Try to avoid her any way you can.”

  I cock a disbelieving brow at her, nerves churning. “That’s going to be a bit tricky, don’t you think? Seeing as how I’m wearing the most scarlet Gardnerian dress ever made.”

  Sparrow’s gaze flicks over my flamboyant, ruby-glittering garb before it meets mine once more, an impressive level of resolve burning in her eyes. “Then you’ll just have to find Lukas before she finds you.”

  And perhaps I’ll have a chance of saving my own life.

  I clutch the wooden shard in my hand so hard that it slices into my skin, my magic roaring to life and racing toward the wood as the terrifying realization crashes over me.

  I’m about to be thrust into a game of cat and mouse. Against a Level Five Mage in full control of her power.

  * * *

  The carriage climbs the long, winding hill that leads to the immense Mage Council Hall as I struggle to prepare myself, my whole body bowstring-tight with tension.

  The Council Hall is carved into the mountainous face of the Styvius Bluff, the Hall’s bluff-stone walls and arches chiseled to appear as if we’re approaching a dense stone forest. Massive rock trunks support the six stories of the Hall and their curving outdoor balconies. A forest of stone-tree statues brackets the stone road leading toward the Hall, the trees’ carved branches twining overhead to form a porous tunnel.

  I push the carriage window open a crack and breathe in the salty air, the rain having passed, the turbulent Voltic Sea just beyond the bluff. Seagulls cry out and circle the Hall, which is newly cast in the sunset’s rose light as the clouds break up, everything lit by flickering torchlight.

  There are Gardnerian flags everywhere, the new white bird design on black hung over balconies and flowing from windows. One of monstrous size is affixed between the two mammoth stone trees that support the second-story balcony, and the windows all around this level are lit the brightest with a festive yellow glow.

  Elegant Gardnerians dressed in various shades and sheens of black are packed onto this wide, sweeping second-story balcony and inside its ornate interior. Large doors are thrown open and orchestral music streams out, conversation and laughter gelling into one loud buzz. And there’s a military presence—quite a sizable one. Powerful Mage soldiers with Level Four and Five stripes practically ring the base of the Council Hall.

  An army of Mages.

  Countless torches on iron stands illuminate the walkways, and the hot, musky scent of the torches’ Verpacian Elm oil wafts through the air. The torches cut through the remaining dampness from the rain, the deepening twilight newly warm and balmy, the breaks in the clouds beginning to glitter with sparkling stars.

  A perfect night for celebration.

  I ready myself for flight as we near the Council Hall and I take in the Gardnerians—their splendid garb, the jubilant swell of
their conversation, how many of them there are.

  And the white armbands around every Mage’s upper arm, blaring their support of High Mage Marcus Vogel.

  It’s hard to fight off a dizzying sense of doom. I’ve never seen so many carriages in one place before, clogging up the road in front of the Hall. As I gape at the size of the crowd, my own carriage comes to an abrupt halt near a broad curving staircase leading to the raised first floor.

  I flinch as one of my guards jerks open the carriage door, a disconcerting sneer on his bearded face as his gaze rakes my blazingly scarlet dress and lingers on my arm, probably noticing my lack of a white armband.

  I close my fist around the shard of wood and step out, my pulse galloping as the guard brusquely motions me forward. Tensed for attack, I set out toward the flow of the crowd, flanked by my guards and with Sparrow close on my heels, a heady sense of my formidable magic streaming through me.

  One of my guards smirks and shoots his bearded cohort a smug look that sets the hairs on the back of my neck on end.

  Behind us the carriage pulls away, and its absence leaves a stark void inside me, depriving me of my only avenue of escape. But the wood in my palm gives me some uneasy comfort; it’s only a sliver, but it might as well be a broadsword. Or a hundred broadswords.

  Or maybe thousands more.

  I follow the crowd toward the huge staircase, keeping my head down and hugging tight to the rail as I ascend, but it’s pointless to try to be inconspicuous when I look like a blaze of red torchlight.

  I inadvertently bump into an older woman in an opulent black velvet gown that winks emerald. The woman turns to me with a ready smile that quickly morphs into an expression of complete mortification as she takes in both my famous face and my shockingly red-accented tunic and long-skirt. She whips her elegant head away, clinging to the arm of the Mage beside her as she whispers and he steals a glance at me. This scenario begins to repeat itself as I make my way up the stairs, through the throngs of Mages. Their judgments, not whispered quietly enough, waft backward on the warm night air.

  “Carnissa’s own granddaughter! Fought her own fasting!”

  “Tried to run off with a Kelt!”

  “Family took an evil turn.”

  “Vyvian’s disgrace.”

  “Brothers ran off with the Lupines!”

  “Race traitors!”

  “And how she’s dressed.”

  “Like a heathen whore!”

  Each new comment is like the sting of a whip, hooking my steps. I quickly realize that Fallon isn’t the only one set against me. This entire crowd is hostile.

  I have to find Lukas. And fast.

  Unsteady, I glance over my shoulder, searching for my guards as the crowd streams up the stairs. I spot them stationed at the foot of the staircase, hands on sword hilts and wand handles, their gazes set on me.

  Blocking my exit.

  I peer past my guards, past the multitude of carriages, toward a small plaza encircled by the stone forest.

  Shock overtakes me.

  There’s a statue there, almost identical to the one in front of the Valgard Cathedral, its ivory marble glowing silver in the bright moonlight. The figures are spectral, like two ghosts back from the dead. A larger-than-life depiction of my grandmother, the Black Witch, towers over Yvan’s Icaral father. My grandmother’s wand is pointed at Yvan’s father’s heart, her foot grinding hard into his chest.

  A wave of nausea washes over me as I clench my hand around the wooden shard, my power shuddering through my lines as the full gravity of my situation takes hold.

  I can’t use this power. Not yet. Not even to protect myself.

  I’m surrounded by Mage soldiers. If I make even one mistake and the Gardnerians find out that I’m the Black Witch of Prophecy, it will all be over. They will bring me straight to Vogel, who will stop at nothing to control my power and use me to destroy Yvan and everyone that I love.

  No, right now all I can do is survive.

  With great reluctance, I extend my fist over the balcony’s edge and open my hand, watching as the wooden shard twirls away to disappear into some ornamental bushes far below.

  My power immediately draws down.

  There. Temptation gone.

  I start back up the stairs, but Sparrow’s hand clenches tight around my arm, halting my ascent.

  I turn to her and am instantly alarmed when I take in her stark, dread-filled gaze. She gives a swift glance up and I follow her line of vision up one flight to the second-story balcony.

  To the three dark-clad figures standing at its edge.

  My throat cinches tight.

  Fallon Bane. Her Level Five brothers, Sylus and Damion, in uniform flanking her.

  And she’s looking straight at me.

  Fallon flashes me a wicked smile that sends ice down my spine. She points at me, her devious smile echoed by her equally devious brothers. Then all three Banes turn and head for the balcony’s doors, the brothers’ silver-striped cloaks sweeping out behind them.

  “Follow me,” Sparrow breathlessly orders, her grip on my arm firming. “I know where the high-ranking military usually enter.”

  We set off at a fast clip, darting around the crowd on the stairs, over the first-floor balcony’s terrace, and into the festive hall.

  We’re engulfed in the crowd of dark-clad Mages, the scent of expensive perfume and rich food heavy on the air. My fear-addled mind takes in details as I follow Sparrow through a maze of hallways and packed rooms, my affinity lines lurching hard toward one type of luxurious wood after another—

  Black Cherry tree trunks that form the central support of several rooms, their branches hung with black crystal leaves and small crimson lanterns.

  Mountain Oak that frames countless oil paintings of former Mage Council members and Guild heads.

  A Bloodwood grand piano that sits prominently in a parlor, the rare scarlet wood gleaming with varnish and ruby swirls.

  I clench and unclench my wand hand, desperate to send my power through every last piece of wood we come upon, and struggle mightily to resist the powerful urge.

  A young, blue-hued Urisk woman slides in front of us, blocking our way. My gaze darts around her, searching for Fallon, as the woman offers up a delicacy wrapped in baby lettuce and impaled with a coarse toothpick. I glance down at the hors d’oeuvres, and for a moment, I’m transfixed. Not hungry for the food.

  Hungry for the wood.

  Another tiny wand.

  Sparrow tugs my arm insistently, breaking the wood’s thrall as she pulls me back into motion and we swerve around the Urisk woman.

  The music dampens as we rush, just on the edge of running, through room after room, the crowds thinning as we go. We hurry down a narrow, dimly lit hall and then into the expansive Council library. Small knots of Gardnerian soldiers and military apprentices are congregating there, some bearing the markings of the highly ranked, their conversations low and dignified. Dotting the crowd are a few soldiers wearing the silver-striped cloaks of the powerful Level Five Mages.

  Like Lukas.

  Breathing hard, every sense on heightened alert, I search them over, desperate to locate Lukas.

  “Excuse me,” I say to a white-haired Mage with lieutenant markings on the shoulder of his military tunic.

  He turns to me, contempt washing over his face and the faces of the other Mage soldiers in his small grouping as they take in my face and obvious recognition lights.

  I swallow back my anxiety. “Might you know if my fastmate, Lukas Grey, has arrived?”

  The Mage’s gaze flicks unkindly over my scarlet dress and he huffs out a short sound of disgust. “I haven’t seen him.”

  I politely excuse myself and step away from the Mages.

  Sparrow leans in close as we leave the room. “There’s a balcony where we can spot
new arrivals,” she tells me, her tone one of forced calm, her hand firm around my arm as she guides me forward. “We can watch for Lukas there.”

  I follow her through a side door at the far end of the room and down a long, deserted hallway.

  Sparrow and I duck into a smaller library, and I catch hold of my bearings as Sparrow moves to open a glass door leading to a small balcony that overlooks the front of the Council Hall. The library is as deserted as the hallway was, the orchestral music now far away, and a frisson of anxiety crawls down my spine at our sudden isolation.

  Sparrow jostles the glass door’s handle, but it won’t budge. She turns to me, her voice growing taut with apprehension. “It’s locked. We’ll have to get there another way.”

  Footsteps sound in the hallway, and my pulse quickens.

  A saffron-hued Urisk maid strides into view and pauses just outside the door. She narrows her citrine eyes at me, then glances toward something or someone down the hall as she points insistently at us.

  Fallon Bane sweeps into the room, and my legs almost give out from under me.

  Fallon is magnificently terrifying, dressed in a gleaming black velvet tunic and long-skirt embroidered with a stylized onyx dragon that flows down her entire side. Black opal jewelry graces her neck and ears, and her hair is artfully pulled back with a gleaming, jewel-encrusted dragon’s talon, her wand sheathed at her side.

  “Don’t I know you?” Fallon asks Sparrow with a cruel smile. “You’re supposed to be in the Fae Islands, isn’t that right?”

  Sparrow has gone stock-still, her breathing tight and uneven.

  “You’re dismissed,” Fallon blithely orders.

  Outrage rears, overtaking my fear. Forcing my posture taller, I look Fallon straight in the eye. “She’s not yours to dismiss.”

  Fallon’s eyes go incredulously wide as she lets out a throaty laugh and swivels her gaze back to me. “You have no allies here.” She glares back at Sparrow threateningly, losing the smile. “Leave.”

  Sparrow shoots me a look of intense reluctance but I give her a quick nod, knowing it’s safer for her to be far away from here. The other Urisk maid steps into the room and unceremoniously ushers Sparrow out.