But her fate, whatever it was, felt heavy enough to crack a kingdom.
He had met runaways before. Many. Some fled debts. Others, enemies. A few, fates they were too afraid to face.
But this girl wasn’t running from anything.
Her magic felt like she had been running toward something, and had landed horribly off-target.
“So, we’re keeping her?” Vorrik asked again as they began to walk.
Lyssara muttered about liability and paperwork, but even she stole a glance at Esther with interest.
They passed the still-smoking ruins of the bandit camp. The bodies were little more than silhouettes etched into the soil. Magic had done that. Her magic.
The dusk-fawn followed for a few steps, then turned and darted back into the trees, leaving a tiny trail of gold sparks behind it.
Nythir exhaled through his nose, slow and steady.
He knew danger.
He knew power.
He knew the sharp edge of fate when it brushed against his skin.
He looked down at the unconscious woman in his arms.
And he knew, with absolute clarity, that nothing in his life would ever be gray again.
“Welcome to the mess,” he murmured. “Let’s see what color you paint it.”
Nythir adjusted his hold on the unconscious girl as they headed back toward camp. A faint curl of smoke still trailed from her dress, and the pastry crumb in her hair stubbornly refused to fall out. Her magic twitched against him now and then, like a sleeping cat swatting at dreams, reminding him she was capable of blowing up a small village before breakfast.
He should have been terrified.
Instead, he felt… energized. Curious. Irrationally protective.
Behind them, the clearing still glowed like a recently offended volcano.
Ahead, Vorrik was already trying to brainstorm what to feed her when she woke.
Nythir exhaled a slow laugh.
“Stars above,” he muttered, “I really did adopt a disaster, didn’t I?”
But he didn’t put her down.
Not even for a moment.
5
Esther
How to sort out feelings: panic quietly, loudly, or somewhere in between.
The ground was cold and unyielding beneath her, damp seeping through her sleeves.
But her face…
Her face rested on something warm, smelling of vanilla and moss.
