“Willow,” she cuts in. “My name is Willow. And this, here, is Khaline.”
Five
Lepidolite
Willow’s eyesblaze through the night as she watches me, glowing against the charcoal smudged in a strip over her eyes.
“Follow me,” she says as she slips off of her wyvern. “The wyverns will be fine here.”
“My friends,” I repeat, refusing to move until I know where they are.
Willow angles herself toward me and answers, “Nearby. There isn’t enough space in the forest to land that many wyverns at once.”
I hesitate, not wanting to trust her yet. I’m in her territory here; I can’t as easily outrun her if she decides to turn her magic on me. But Zephyr shifts her weight, angling her wing and tilting herself so that I have to slide off. The moment my feet touch the ground, she twists her head toward me and nudges my back.
This protective—and incredibly sassy—creature hardly letsanyone near me without growlingseveraltimes. And yet, she’s pushing me toward this strange fae, willing to let me go on alone without her.
I clench my jaw, having no other choice but to jog after Willow, who is already disappearing into the forest. By the time I catch up with her, my breath is short and my eyes are beginning to adjust to the dark.
Twigs snap, and I whirl toward the sound.
“Remain calm,” Willow’s voice soothes.
Vines surge forth, wrapping around her wrists like cold snakes, and I jerk and cry out, flailing to try to free myself. Then, something itchy that smells faintly of hay is thrown over my head. My magic roars to life, fire dancing on my fingers, as my feet are knocked from beneath me. I crash into the dirt, my temple hitting at just the right angle to make me see stars.
Disoriented, I don’t know where to aim my magic. The vines loosen around my wrists and my hands shoot up to remove the covering over my head, but just before my fingers reach for it, I’m suddenly hoisted onto something—onto ahorse. I hold on with every ounce of strength I have left in my body as it starts to gallop.
I don’t have time to consider running and finding my friends, because the horse races through the forest, the sack over my head obscuring my vision as we turn more ways than I can keep track of.
My magic begins to gather in my chest, aimed at anything around me and hoping to catchsomething. But then the horse stops, its hooves sliding as my body teeters sideways. The sack is ripped off my head, and I scramble off the horse, my shadows slamming up around me like a physical barrier.
With my teeth bared and ears back, I raise my hands, fire eagerly burning to life in my palms.
“Careful.” Willow’s voice again. “A necessary precaution to bringing an outsiderin.”
My shadows close in tighter around me, leaving the world distorted and hazy beyond it.
“Zephyr was always a brilliant creature,” Willow muses.
I pause. “You know her name?”
Willow blinks, her eyes turning glossy. “In another life,” she whispers.
My head tilts to the side, and I wait for an explanation.
“I knew her almost as well as I know my own wyvern,” she says softly. “She’s a stunning creature. Inside and out.”
Her words make me pause. There’s a tenderness in her gaze—one that says far more than her words. Something about it disarms me. Carefully, I pull my shadows back in until I can see Willow standing in front of me. My arms stay raised, fire still jumping off of my palms and winding around my wrists.
“Aren’t you afraid we’ll hurt the people here?” I ask carefully, because if I were her, I wouldn’t want anyone near my home—my family. Why save us? Why risk us bringing death and pain here?
“Zephyr chose you. That is all I need to know.” She steps sideways and sweeps her arm out.
Her words roll over me, seeping into my thoughts and warming my chest.
Words Reichardt often spoke to me bubble up.“No one will choose you, Amira. They will choose what your last name can bring them; always remember that.”
A hint of comfort wraps around my shoulders, followed by the scent of warm vanilla.
