Weapons
I cling to Aislinn’s arm as we wind our way through the tournament fields, my wretched appearance attracting more than a few curious stares.
I spot Lukas up ahead, and a nervous jolt of energy shoots through me.
He’s surrounded by a crowd, fencing with an Elfhollen lieutenant, the Gardnerian military apprentices periodically cheering him on. Lukas’s eyes are as focused as a hawk bearing down on a small rodent as he points his sword at his opponent, a confident smile on his face.
As we approach, Lukas’s eyes flicker to meet mine, causing him to momentarily lose concentration. His opponent mock-stabs him with a capped sword tip just above the heart.
Lukas seems oblivious to the sounds of surprise going up around him and the look of shocked triumph on his opponent’s face. He cocks his head to the side, takes in my wretched appearance then turns and shakes hands with his victorious opponent, leaning in to say something to the man in the Elfhollen language. The Elfhollen laughs and responds in the strange tongue. Lukas sheathes his sword and strides over to meet us, another Gardnerian lieutenant taking his place on the field.
“Elloren, what happened to you?” he asks as he approaches. “You’re filthy.” He pulls his head back sharply. “Did someone strike you?”
“I’m in a really bad situation,” I tell him breathlessly. “I don’t know what to do.”
He narrows his eyes, then glances over at Aislinn and Echo. “Can I speak with her privately?”
“Of course,” Echo responds without hesitation. Aislinn gives me a small, encouraging smile.
Echo and Aislinn walk off as Lukas leads me to a nearby bench set under a wide tree. He gestures for me to sit down and I do. I eye his sword—the same sword he used to cut down the Icaral in Valgard. And his wand, attached to his wand belt. I’m glad to see him armed.
“I was attacked,” I tell him. “First in the kitchen, when I reported for my labor assignment—”
“Wait,” he interrupts, holding up a hand, “why are you working in the kitchen?”
“Aunt Vyvian,” I explain. “She won’t pay my tithe, so I have to work—”
“Why?” he cuts in, confused.
I hesitate before answering. He’s looking at me expectantly. There’s no way out. I have to talk about this. I take a deep breath before answering him. “She won’t pay my tithe until I’m wandfasted.”
He nods with dawning understanding. “But...” he says, in a low, affronted tone, “you don’t want to be wandfasted.”
I hold out my hands to him in supplication. “It’s nothing personal. My uncle...he’s sick.” My voice catches. “And I promised him I’d wait for two years...”
“Two years?” he spits out, incredulous.
“Until I’m done with my University studies.”
It’s clear from his expression that he thinks my uncle is an idiot, and that I’m an even bigger idiot for agreeing to this.
“Lukas,” I say, wanting him to understand, “we barely know each other.”
He’s quiet for a tense moment, regarding me with no small amount of irritation.
“I really didn’t mean to offend you.” I grip at the cool Spine-stone of the bench for support. “And I promised my uncle I’d wait to fast before I even met you.”
Lukas studies me for a long minute, one eyebrow cocked.
“Will your parents be very upset?” I reluctantly venture.
“Yes,” he says.
“I never meant...”
“They don’t realize how sheltered you’ve been. It’s becoming common for girls to be wandfasted at thirteen. Were you aware of that?”
“I’ve only just found out,” I reply weakly.
“And most people don’t get to meet first. Their parents make all the arrangements, and they meet at the fasting.”
“I...I didn’t know that.” I grip harder at the bench’s edge.
“We’re older than average, you and I. How old are you? Eighteen?”
“I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks,” I tell him, realizing something. “But that’s just what I’m talking about. I don’t even know how old you are. Regardless of how common this is, I’ve only just met you. I don’t even know you.”
He laughs at this. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says, his lip curling up at the edge, “we seem to get on pretty well.”
I color at this, remembering my aunt’s party. His lips on mine. It seems so long ago, but it’s only been a few days.
Back before my whole world fell apart.
“How old are you, Lukas?” I ask.
“Twenty.”
“Sounds like you’ve been putting off wandfasting, as well,” I point out.
His face grows hard. I can tell he’s not used to being challenged.
Why is he so touchy about this? And why isn’t he already fasted?
“Who attacked you?” he asks, completely ignoring my last comment.
“A Kelt girl named Iris, and a scary-looking Urisk girl named Bleddyn.” I describe everything that happened in the kitchen.
“That’s easily managed,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Anything else?”
I’m momentarily silenced by how blasé he is, how confident he is that this impossibly disastrous situation can be rectified.
“I was also attacked by two Icarals,” I continue. “Ariel Haven and Wynter Eirllyn. My new lodging mates.”
One of his eyebrows goes up at this. “They placed you with the two Icarals? After what happened in Valgard?”
I nod my head miserably. “They won’t let me move until I’m fasted.”
He lets out a short laugh, as if amused and impressed by my aunt’s tenacity. “Your aunt really wants you wandfasted to me, doesn’t she?”
“Apparently.”
“You do realize that all of these problems would just disappear if we marched over to Mage Abernathy’s office and agreed to be fasted? You wouldn’t need to work to pay your tithe. And you’d have your choice of lodging.”
The generosity of his offer catches me completely off guard, giving me serious pause. He’s made it to twenty unfasted, yet he’s willing to drop everything and fast to me. The incredible flattery of this fills me with a heady disbelief.
But it’s still much too fast.
“I can’t,” I say, shaking my head. “Believe me, it’s tempting, but I just can’t.”
He gives me the once-over and sighs. “Well, I guess it’s a bit of relief. No offense, but you look truly awful. Is that manure you’re covered with?”
I’m suddenly struck by the sheer outrageousness of this situation. I’m covered in barn refuse, and the most eligible man in Gardneria wants to wandfast to me.
A short laugh escapes me, and I shoot Lukas a resigned look. “Yes, it is.” I let my head fall into my hands. After a moment I’m aware of him taking a seat next to me, his arm warm against mine.
“Did the Icarals hurt you?” he asks.
I look over at him. “I didn’t give them the chance to. I blockaded myself in a storage closet.”
Lukas spits out a laugh. He straightens and fingers the hilt of his sword. “They’re easily managed, as well.”
“Easily managed?” Is he kidding? “They’re monsters!”
“No, they’re not.”
“They have wings! Which means they have their powers! They’re even worse than the ones in Valgard!”
“No, they’re not,” he says again.
I’m starting to feel at wits’ end. “How can you say that?”
“Well, for starters, Wynter Eirllyn is the daughter of Elfin royalty—”
“I don’t care if she’s a royal princess,” I vehemently counter. “It doesn’t change the fact that she wants to kill me.”
“Wynter Eirllyn is harmless,” he calmly disagrees. “She has about as many evil powers as I do.” Lukas smirks. “Probably fewer.”
This is just too much. “Don’t you believe in your own religion?”
“Not really.”
Well, that’s unexpected. “Does your family know that?” I ask, amazed.
“No.”
His candor surprises me. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t know, Elloren,” he says shortly, seeming exasperated with himself. “I feel a compulsion to be honest with you. I really don’t know why.” He looks away and leans back against the bench, staring off into the distance, wrestling with some private thought. After a time he turns back to me, a look of resignation on his face.
I knit my brow at him. “If you were here all this time, why didn’t you come find me after the wandtesting?” I’m unable to keep a hint of blame out of my tone. “If you’d been with me...”
“I’ve only just returned,” Lukas says, seeming amused by my discomfiture. He leans in close. “Someone caused a minor diplomatic crisis. The Elfhollen were not amused by my initial refusal to leave you.” His tone takes on a cutting edge. “Neither was my father. There was some talk of imprisonment.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling contrite. I notice he’s in a different military tunic, the silver Level Five bands on his sleeve thinner and close together. “Your uniform. It’s different.” I trace my finger along one of the silver bands, immediately aware of the intimacy of the gesture. Mortified, I jerk my hand away.
When I venture a look up at him, his smile is slow and seductive, his eyes intent on mine. He raises his wrist slightly, glancing down at the edging. “I’ve been temporarily demoted, for the usual reason,” he says, his voice like velvet.
I gulp. “What’s that?”
His smile darkens. “Insubordination.” He traces his finger lightly over the back of my hand. “And as further punishment,” he goes on, “I’m being forced to spend two months here training Gardneria’s most talentless soldier apprentices.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, distracted by the slow, sultry way he’s playing with my hand.
Lukas lets out a short laugh, sits back and eyes me with amused speculation.
I take a deep breath. “So you think Wynter is harmless,” I finally say.
“Completely. She’s an artist. Spends all her time drawing, sculpting, writing poetry. Hardly ever speaks. Seems afraid of her own shadow. Ariel Haven, on the other hand...”
“The demonic one,” I finish for him.
He laughs, but I fail to see the humor in it.
“She’s a real nuisance,” he continues. “Should have been sent back to the Valgard Sanitorium a long time ago.”
“Back?” I cut in, horrified.
“She spent most of her childhood there.”
“Oh, Ancient One...”
“She was almost expelled last year. Seems she has a penchant for setting fire to things. And to people who annoy her.”
I can feel myself blanching.
“Relax, Elloren. No one’s going to set you on fire.”
I gawk at him, stupefied. “How can you say that? I spent most of last night cowering in a closet while Ariel etched profanities and threats into the door.”
“And that was your choice. You let her have the upper hand. Ariel is about as weak and harmless as Wynter is. She just makes a big show of being threatening. And you completely fell for it.”
“She had a knife!”
“Here,” he says, pulling his sword out and handing it to me. “Now you have a bigger one.”
I push the sword back at him. “I don’t have any idea how to use it.”
He places his sword back in its sheath with one graceful movement. “You probably have about as much skill with my sword as Ariel does with a knife.”
“She’s completely demonic!”
“Maybe so, but I doubt she’ll do anything to harm any scholar this year. If she does, she’ll be arrested, expelled from Verpacia and sent back to the Valgard Sanitorium. Her wings will be cut off and she’ll be thrown into a cell, where she’ll rot out her days. She’d be as good as dead. Ariel knows this, and it terrifies her. Don’t let her fool you.”
“I don’t understand why the Mage Council hasn’t cut her wings off and locked her away already,” I grouse.
“Verpacia is bound by international treaty to surrender only male Icarals to Gardneria. Because of the Prophecy.”
“And she’s not male.”
Lukas nods resignedly. “Imprisonment of female Icarals is still voluntary, and at the discretion of the Icaral’s family. For now. There are some on the Mage Council who hold romantic ideas about Icaral ‘rehabilitation,’ but they’re slowly being voted out.”
“Good.” I shake my head. “So why didn’t Ariel’s family have her committed?”
“Her father. He left her wings intact to punish his unfaithful fastmate. So Ariel’s mother has to face the fact that she gave birth to a winged demon as a result of her evil.”
“Charming.” I let out a deep breath. “And the other Icaral? The Elf?”
“If you were to complain to the Elfin hierarchy about Wynter Eirllyn, she’d be cast out of Alfsigr lands and never allowed to return. The Elves hate the Icarals as much as the Gardnerians do. The only reason she hasn’t been cast out already is that she has a brother who’s fond of her.
“And there’s something else. Something you can use to your advantage,” Lukas confides. “Ariel is very fond of Wynter Eirllyn. She fancies herself Wynter’s protector and doesn’t want to leave her. So, you see, you have the upper hand.”
I slump down on the bench. “I really don’t feel like I have the upper hand.”
“Elloren,” he cautions, “you can’t be weak here. You’ll be eaten alive, especially with your appearance, your connections.”
“But I am weak. I have no magic whatsoever.”
A magic-free Level One. But still, there was that feeling of power during my wandtesting. Coming up from the earth.
He’s thoughtful for a moment. “I was surprised by the results of your wandtesting.” Lukas shrugs. “I have a good sense about these things, and I can sense magic in you. I still think it’s there, perhaps dormant.”
“You’ve only just met me,” I observe, feeling defeated and not powerful in the least.
“Doesn’t matter,” he says with a shake of his head. “I can feel it. I can hear it in your music, and...” He hesitates for a moment before continuing, his voice gone low. “I can feel it in your kiss.”
Coloring at his words and the memory of his fiery kiss, I lower my eyes. My skirts are filthy. Covered with dirt, and Ancient One knows what else. And my wrist, my head and the side of my face ache.
Now is not the time to be thinking about kissing Lukas again.
I groan and let my head fall into my hands. “So what am I supposed to do, Lukas?”
For a moment he’s silent.
“Wands aren’t the only tools of power, Elloren,” he says, his voice level. “Find your enemies’ weaknesses. And become dangerous.”