REUNION
The sharp glare of sunlight off the thin coating of snow makes my eyes smart.
I peer down the Verpax City street, past the clamoring horse and pedestrian traffic, toward the miller’s warehouse and beyond, my breath misting the air. The long edge of the snowcapped Southern Spine pierces the clouds like a jagged blade.
A sense of fatalistic resignation washes over me. The political situation is so bleak, but amid it all, the heart-stoppingly beautiful Spine still rises up. It’s so magnificent, it almost hurts to look at it.
I set my heavy box of medicinal vials in the crunchy snow and lean back against a tree, surveying the line of glistening white peaks. Calmed by the solidity of the tree behind me, I pull in a deep breath and rest a hand on the rough, bumpy bark, a summertime image of the glossy-leafed Lacebark Elm suffusing my mind. With my other hand, I unconsciously reach up to grasp the Snow Oak pendant.
My eyes widen with surprise as an intoxicating burst of energy twines through me, branching straight down to my toes. I inhale deeply, concentrating now, feeling a pattern of tendriling earth lines winding through me. But there’s also a new sensation—a delicious, prickling heat trailing alongside those lines.
Fire.
Something stirs in the tree behind my back, like the slight ripple on a lake, and a glimmer of fear from the tree fills me with a sudden disquiet. I move away and turn to glance warily at it, releasing the pendant.
What was that?
Men call out amiably to each other, and the sound tugs my attention back toward the street. Two blond Verpacian miller’s apprentices are hefting sack after sack of grain onto a broad wagon, their breath puffing smoke into the cold air. They both have white Vogel armbands around their arms, and I frown at the sight. Ever since the Gardnerians won control of Verpacia’s ruling council, many non-Gardnerians have begun showing this outward gesture of support for Vogel in an effort to appease the increasingly oppressive Gardnerian majority. No one wants to become a target.
A sizable grouping of Gardnerian soldiers chats jovially off to the side, all of them wearing armbands, as well. Like the soldiers’ tunics, the wagon being loaded is pitch-black and marked with a silver Erthia sphere. I scan the row of businesses and notice that Gardnerian flags are now hung from every storefront, whether they’re owned by Gardnerian shopkeepers or not.
I watch the soldiers, my expression darkening. Marcus Vogel’s massive restructuring of our Mage Guard is now complete, and large numbers of Fourth Division soldiers have returned to rebuild their nearby base under Lukas Grey’s command. As a result, there’s a marked increase in the number of soldiers present in Verpax City, since it’s the closest center of commerce to the base.
The Gardnerian soldiers seem like a foreign invading force to my eyes, dotting the streets in their smart, neatly pressed uniforms, their swords gleaming, their expensive wands in full view. And all around them, the ominous wanted postings flap in the harsh winter wind, a constant reminder that my friends and I are still being sought for the blow we dealt the Gardnerian forces.
I glare at the soldiers and anxiously bite at my lip.
I remember the stories Yvan told me about how Gardnerian soldiers set their dragons on the Kelts during the Realm War. How the soldiers wiped out entire villages and burned them to the ground. As I watch the square-jawed, black-haired young men and take in their smug expressions, I don’t doubt for one moment that they’ll do whatever is commanded of them.
Without stopping to question any of it.
My dark reverie is abruptly broken by the unexpected brush of warm lips against my neck. I jump back in shocked surprise and whirl around, my heart racing as indignation rises within me.
I suck in a breath as I realize who’s behind me.
Lukas Grey.
In all his black-haired, green-eyed military glory.
Memory never can do him justice.
He stands there grinning, handsome as sin, the edge of his dark cloak thrown rakishly over his shoulder. The hem of his uniform is marked with the five silver lines of a Level Five Mage and the additional thick silver band of a division commander. His wand rests loosely in its sheath, and the Fourth Division’s dragon insignia is pinned on his chest.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” I breathlessly demand, thrown by Lukas’s sudden presence and the way he’s smiling at me.
Lukas laughs, leans into the tree and gives me a suggestive once-over. I glance down at myself, suddenly keenly aware of my Kelt-style work clothes, my woolen cloak thrown loosely over them.
“Interesting outfit,” he says with a grin. “It won’t work, you know.” He leans in close. “You still look like your grandmother.”
The almost magnetic compulsion to be honest with him takes hold, embittered words escaping my lips. “That’s not why I’m dressed like this. I don’t feel comfortable wearing clothes made by Urisk slaves.”
“It is possible to have clothing made by Verpacian tailors,” he calmly retorts, that ever-present feral gleam in his eyes. “Nice clothing.”
My traitorous heart deepens its rhythm in response to his alluring tone, his nearness. I look away, desperate to maintain some semblance of coherent thought around him.
You don’t know which side he’s on, Elloren. Be careful.
Lukas reaches up to hook his finger under the chain of my Snow Oak necklace. I swallow nervously as he gently teases the pendant out from under my tunic.
“You’re wearing it,” he croons, looking pleased, his fingers skimming along the chain. A prickling warmth stirs inside me in response to his touch. I reflexively reach up to clasp the pendant, and the amorphous heat coalesces into slender lines of fire deep within me.
My eyes widen. “What exactly is this necklace, Lukas?” The fiery sensation shimmers through me in a tingling rush. “When I touch it...it seems to awaken something inside me. Things I’ve never felt before.”
“The wood from the Snow Oak enhances magic,” Lukas says, his smile slow and languid. “That’s why I gave it to you. It coaxes affinity lines to life.”
A sudden surge of heat has me pulling in a shuddering breath, and Lukas’s smile inches wider. “Your affinities are quickening, Elloren. What have you been sensing?”
I swallow and look inward, tightening my grip on the pendant. “Lines of earth...like small branches flowing out. All over me. I’ve been feeling that for several days. And then today, just now...it feels like fire.”
Lukas gently takes hold of my wand hand and presses his palm to mine. The branching lines inside me suddenly blaze, as if shot through with torchlight.
“And now?” Lukas asks.
“There’s more of it,” I breathlessly marvel. “More fire.”
Lukas smiles. “Does it feel good?”
I nod in spite of myself as his supple warmth ignites all over my lines. “You’re like the pendant,” I say with astonished realization.
“I am,” he says, his gaze enticingly dark. “I think we both are, to each other.”
My heart thudding, I pull my hand away from his and release the pendant, trying to regain my balance. “So...I must have strong earth and fire lines.”
“Yes, most definitely. You may sense other lines, in time.”
I glance up at him, curious. “What do you have?”
His lips tilt into a suggestive smile. “I think you know.”
A warm flush heats my cheeks. Yes, I know. From kissing him. “Almost all earth and fire.”
Lukas nods.
“Like me.”
“Yes. Just like you.”
My thoughts whirl as I realize why he’s both an enigma to me and completely familiar, all at the same time.
We’re a perfect affinity match—the balance of our elemental lines exactly the same.
Suddenly, the possibility that he’s not aligned with Vogel is almost as unsettling as the possibility that he is.
Men’s voices cut through my turbulent thoughts and pull my eyes across the street. The soldiers’ wagon is pulling away, revealing a defaced wall between two storefronts. I inwardly draw back at the sight before me, the troubles of the world crashing down. Painted on the wall in heavy black lettering is a phrase from our holy book.
I cringe at the words, this vile defacement of buildings rapidly escalating over the past few days.
“Doesn’t any of this bother you?” I ask Lukas, the question flying out of me. I gesture toward the words, both angered and troubled by them.
Lukas narrows his eyes at the wall, then turns back to me, serious. “Yes, that bothers me,” he says, as if in challenge of my view of him. “I don’t agree with the religious madness that seems to be gripping our people, if that’s what you’re getting at, Elloren.”
“That’s good, Lukas,” I say, meeting his gaze squarely. “I don’t think I could stomach you if you did.”
It suddenly dawns on me—if he can’t lie to me, and I can’t lie to him, then there’s a simple way to find out where he stands.
“What do you think of Vogel?” I ask, challenge in my tone.
Lukas’s eyes take on a guarded cast. “Elloren, I’m in the military. Mage Councils and High Mages come and go. We don’t pick the government, we defend the Magedom.”
We stare at each other for a fraught moment, tension igniting in the air between us.
A mutual standoff.
I sullenly realize that we might not be able to lie to each other, but we can hold our secrets back.
Lukas raises an eyebrow as if reading my fractious unease and considers me closely. “Are you having a bad day?”
I shoot him a frustrated look, and his lip lifts with a trace of amusment. “I could make it better.” His subtle grin widens to a dazzling smile.
Oh, Holy Ancient One.
No, No, No, I warn myself. He’s trouble. Don’t let yourself be so completely drawn in.
I tense my brow pointedly at him, my eyes briefly flicking over his new commander stripe. “How goes the quest for world domination?”
Lukas gives a short laugh as he looks out over the crowded streets. “It appears that the Resistance has one small feather in their cap. Not only did our forces let them destroy half of the Fourth Division Base, they actually allowed an unbroken military dragon to slip right out from under them. Seems no one even bothered to post a guard.” He smiles, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. We can be disorganized and sloppy and we’ll still win. And the hunt for a missing dragon should provide for a day’s amusement, don’t you think?”
His sly, knowing look sends a ripple of unease through me. “So, this is all just a game to you?”
Lukas’s eyes narrow. “You’ve become quite the little cynic, haven’t you?”
“I have. And I find your twisted worldview to be completely infuriating.”
In one deft motion, Lukas slides his arms around me and pulls me close.
“Miss me?” His breath is warm on my cheek. “I certainly missed you.”
His scent...it’s like a deep forest. And I’ve a new sense of the power thrumming just under his skin, my earth lines stirring in response to it. Being close to him feels temptingly good, like touching wood.
“What?” Lukas’s lips brush my ear. “No kiss for the returning warrior?”
My earth lines branch toward his, pulsing with heat. “You’re a plague on Erthia,” I attempt, trying to steel myself against the pull of our matching affinities, but the words are caught in a gasp as he traces his lips slowly down my neck. His hands slip under my cloak and slide around my waist.
“Who turned you into the little subversive?” His voice is silken, his lips lingering against my skin.
“Why are you pursuing me, Lukas?” I demand weakly, evading the question as I thrill to the feel of his magic reaching for mine.
He laughs against my neck. “Because you’re beautiful. And your draw is irresistible. The way your affinities complement mine...it’s more than a bit enticing.”
His pianist fingers reach up to thread through my hair, and his warmth slides straight through me, kindling my wakening lines of fire. I know I should be stronger than this, that I shouldn’t fall so easily under his thrall. But a dark remembrance forms in my mind that abets the temptation to be reckless.
You need to keep your connection to Lukas. To keep everyone safe. And to draw him over to our side.
So, when Lukas leans in to kiss me, I let my lips soften, like sugar melting against his heat. I close my eyes as I fall into his seductive kiss, our affinity lines flaring around each other, his dark branches caressing mine, smooth leaves gently uncurling.
He breaks the kiss and teasingly runs his lips near the edge of my ear. “You promised you’d go to the Yule Dance with me this week’s end.”
“All right,” I agree, far too readily. I tilt my head toward him, foolishly wanting more, wanting to feel the sinuous unfurling of the tree. And his fire.
Lukas releases me, looking smug as he backs away. “I’ll come for you at sixth hour.”
Panic rears, cutting through the sensual haze. Marina. Lukas can’t come anywhere near the North Tower while she’s hidden there.
“No, don’t come for me...” I struggle to find a plausible excuse, but the words stick tight in my throat. It’s no use. Try as I may, it’s frustratingly impossible to lie to him.
Lukas cocks an eyebrow and smirks. “All right then, I’ll meet you at the dance. Look for me.”
I arch my brow at him. “You’re kind of hard to miss.”
He laughs. “So are you, Elloren. So are you.”
“I might wear this tunic,” I warn in a sudden blaze of defiance.
Lukas’s eyes slide over me, making me shiver slightly. “I really don’t care what you wear,” he says wickedly. Then he turns and strides off.
Oh, sweet Ancient One in the heavens above.
How in the name of all that is holy am I going to keep my wits around him?