“Do you meet with other companies? Travel to other bases?” she asked, ducking under a low branch.

  “Sometimes,” he said. “Lately, I’ve been running confidential missions for the Council. They typically don’t require me to have a team. Or a tagalong.”

  “Sorry to ruin all your fun.” She took a step and hissed. Alistair glanced at her again. “I’m fine,” she said, biting her cheek. It would be ugly when she removed her boots, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking to stop, blisters or not.

  Alistair grunted and continued walking.

  A road of reddened clay, heavily worn by wagon tracks, cut its way through the trees. Alistair threw out his arm and stopped her right before they crossed.

  “Do you know how to glamour?”

  “You mean to make myself look dull, tired, and ugly, like we were taught in year ten?”

  “That’s a yes, then?”

  “No.”

  “Shadow help me. All right, stay here.” He threw his pack down on the ground. “I’m going into Crowpass and will try to find transport to Ironoak.”

  Sera slipped off her pack and sat beside their supplies, happy to finally rest her aching feet and calves. “I’ve got this,” she said, motioning to their rucksacks.

  He stared at her, suspicion painting his features. In an instant, his dark brown hair was dulled and lined with silvers, his skin marred with spots and deep wrinkles, and his uniform drab and full of patches. He even put on beat-up work gloves to round out the ensemble. But his glamour did nothing to shrink his size. The humans she’d encountered in the past didn’t have his physique. She hadn’t remembered any of the ones she’d met being quite so large.

  He lumbered off, and with Alistair finally out of sight, she slipped off her boot with another hiss. The skin was raw and ripped at the back of her heel. A bloody mess already, and who knew how much farther they had to go.

  Not even high sun, and she was a disaster. At this rate, she’d be finished by sundown.

  This wouldn’t have happened had she been allowed to wear her keeper boots. Leave it to Alistair to make sure they matched.

  She sighed. No, the reason for all this was her. Her defect, curse, whatever it was.

  Fluttering darkness beat against her rib cage. The walking and pain must have helped keep it calm.

  Her mother had corresponded with some tutors, casually mentioning traits of Sera’s power to Lavinia’s peers in Daedeth class. Every one of them told her to report someone with magic like that to the Council. There was a time Sera had been grateful her mother never followed their recommendations, but maybe Lavinia should have. Then Nora wouldn’t be gone.

  A chattering yip and the scraping of tiny claws across the hard bark drew her attention as two rats scurried up and down a tree trunk. Instead of having naked pink tails, theirs were plumes of fur and curled as they moved. Unlike the rats that lurked in the alley outside the boardinghouse, these were cute.

  All kinds of birds began to appear. Some with red feathered heads slammed their beaks into the thick trunks. Blackbirds with fire-red shoulders pecked at the ground not far from her aching feet.

  Thump.

  The darkness vibrated within her, straining against its cage.

  Thump.

  A slow drumbeat pulsed through her veins.

  Thump.

  Sera placed one hand on her chest, the other on her stomach, and pulled in deep breaths. With every exhale, the forest grew quieter. Birds ceased their singing, and Sera couldn’t shake the sensation of eyes on her.

  She flinched when one of the rats bolted up the tree. Though Seraphina was not in tune with the ways of the wilderness, she could sense there was a predator in these woods. And she was alone and unarmed.

  The abomination snapped and twirled. Each hair on the back of her neck stood, one by one.

  Sera rose to her bloodied and swollen feet.

  “Barijara,” she said and snapped her barrier into place, turning the woods a shade of blue. Her heart pounded in her ears. She should run straight to Crowpass and find Al.

  One step, then two. She paused when the sound of hooves against clay thudded toward her.

  It was—he was— Sera’s hands shook so hard her barrier trembled around her.

  There was no making out his eyes within the void of his hood. Just the tip of his nose down to a smooth half smile. Beneath the elegant drape of his black cloak was a silver chest plate. Arm guards led to silver gauntlets, their knuckles tipped like spears, holding the reins of the biggest horse she’d ever seen.

  The greaves on his shins were polished to a brilliance that reflected the blue of the sky and the green of the leaves. He wasn’t human, couldn’t be. The pure power in his form that leached into the air around her screamed of something magical.

  Sera knew what he was by the color of his cloak. By the rushing wave of magic that flowed over her, through her—the taste of it… Ash. Fear, as suffocating as the heat from the hottest death pyres, ripped the air from her lungs.

  “Are you lost?” His voice wrapped her like velvet. If she could lean into it, she would, and the abomination spun circles begging her to do just that.

  Let me out. Let me out.

  She willed it to listen. Stay.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Do you need a ride to Crowpass? Maybe Ironoak?” He tilted his head, and she could feel his eyes trail her from her hair down to her bloody feet.

  “No.” Sera clenched her fists, desperate to keep her magic at bay, to keep her barrier in place. There was no helping her now. If he wanted to take her, kill her, he could. She’d never get away quickly enough.

  Burn them.

  Moons, why on sweet Eraphon was her magic whispering to her? It swirled and moved as if being coaxed out to play. She was tempted to let it, but the images of smoky black plumes over Feybury flashed in her mind. There’d be nothing left of this forest. Nothing but ashes.

  “Please, move along. I’m fine.” She swallowed and raised her chin to the man in front of her.

  A flash of glowing red eyes peered at her from beneath his hood. Terror stitched her mouth closed, but the burning red orbs kept her stationary.

  He chuckled at her, and for a split second, there was relief. The cloaked stranger gripped his reins tightly, shifting his weight on the noble beast.

  In the months Sera had dealt with this cursed magic, she’d experienced pain. Burning, scorching pain. But when Sera looked into this stranger’s glowing eyes, agony tore through her.

  “Fuck!” she screamed and sank to her knees, clutching at her chest. It was ripping—her heart was tearing itself apart. This wasn’t the same sensation her magics gave her, either of them; this was rupturing flesh and muscle and blistering torture.

  “Sera!” Alistair was running full speed toward her.

  “You?” the stranger asked. His eyes glowed a shade brighter, and he held out his gloved hand toward her. “Come with me.”

  The darkness thrashed. Her palms were on fire, and although she tried to stop it, tried to ignore that pulling sensation, Sera extended her hand.

  Closer, the thing within her chanted.

  No!

  Alistair materialized between them, sword in one hand, shield in the other. He was no longer glamoured, instead in full coven armor.

  “Na prelaz blizt, demon.” Alistair snarled.

  “Are the syllables of my own language supposed to scare me?”

  Sera shivered at his smoky utterance, and that ripping in her chest stitched back together—all but one thread, open and raw.

  Al threw an iridescent ball of power at the demon, followed by a charge of swinging steel. The stranger ducked the flaming projectile.

  “You are making a grave mistake,” the demon snarled, his horse prancing and snorting.

  “I think not.”

  Sera’s hands were deeply rooted in the clay; she was still and gasping for breath. Between the pain in her chest and the fight before her, she was boiling. She should run as fast as she could away from there. Alistair could travel. He’d find her. She needed to run.

  With grace, Alistair charged, the sword an extension of himself. But he was met with a blade of gleaming black stone. Alistair grunted, and the demon laughed as the pinging of steel on stone echoed through the wood.

  Sera stumbled to her feet. Her blue barrier winked out.

  For a moment, the demon’s head turned toward her, his red eyes blazing, his mouth in a snarl. Her flesh crawled under his gaze.

  Alistair locked eyes with her and took advantage of the distraction to swing his sword for the horse’s throat. Before the blade met flesh, a force unlike she’d ever seen sent him flying backward.

  “Al!” Sera froze.

  A sickening crunch sounded as Alistair hit the tree, then fell limp to the forest floor.

  “Te sie moj, Subdina.” The demon’s eyes blazed red, and he aimed his horse toward Al. “He will die…”

  Show him. That voice, her magic, it was right there. Boiling heat seared through her arteries straight to her palms. “Don’t!” she cried.

  A whip of dark mist materialized, and in one snap of her arm, she struck. Her magic sang through the air in the form of a whip, and the tip of that conjured scourge sliced into the demon’s hood.

  A screaming whinny pierced her ears when the demon raised his gauntlet and touched his cheek. The silver steel came away coated with fresh black blood.

  “Neve, Ponic,” the demon hissed, and the horse galloped toward Crowpass.

  “Fucking moons.” Sera ran to Alistair, the scourge disintegrating into mist.

  She collapsed beside him.

  Al’s eyes were closed, his neck bent back, revealing the bob of his throat before he let out a groan. Her hands hovered over the Solarni sun embroidered across his broad chest, unsure of what to even do. “Alistair, can you hear me? Are you all right?”

  A grimace, then a deep breath, had him squinting his eyes at her. “Did he say anything to you?” Alistair’s voice was grating compared to the lure of the demon’s, but she’d never been so damn happy to hear it. “Sera?”

  “You’re worried about what he said to me? You’re fucking bleeding, Al!”

  Al rolled on his side and raised a hand to his head, and a shining light raced over him. He let out a sigh of relief. “I need to know what he said so I know if he enthralled you.”

  One, two, three beats of her heart, and she glanced toward Crowpass. Sera rubbed at her chest. The demon’s outstretched hand… his blazing red eyes. It was entirely possible. And enthralling—the blood drained from her face—meant to be forced into obedience, to be watched and instructed to tell every secret she ever held. Had he enthralled her? Would she even know if he did?

  “He—he asked if I needed a ride into town and if I was lost,” she said.

  Al rose to his feet. “Look at me.”

  His gloved hands were warm on her cheeks, keeping her head still. Her only view was the blue outline and yellow center of his eyes, his brow damp with sweat. A few strands of dark hair clung to his temples. Shadow, he was handsome. Sera’s heart pounded in her chest, and she was pretty sure he could feel her pulse through her cheeks. His hold grew softer, and his gaze dipped to her nose, then her lips.

  “You’re fine,” he said and let go. “But Sera, you need to tell me… What made him run?”

  His question was a punch to the gut. There was no time to process the fact that not only had Sera been able to conjure her darkness without burning down the forest around them… she had conjured a weapon from the abomination. A whip that had drawn the black blood of a demon lord.

  Fear slithered up the column of her spine.

  Never in her life had Sera been able to do more than create a barrier around her until this well opened. Then there had only been destruction. But if she could manipulate it… it would change everything.

  Only… Alistair couldn’t know.

  He was a captain in the Legion who reported directly to the highest chair on the Council, and despite their history, this wasn’t something she would be willing to share as a test of loyalty. “I don’t know… You hit the tree, and he just took off.”

  Al was quiet, his face a cool stone. “Let’s get going.”

  “And what if he follows us?”

  “Then he follows us, Minnow.” He sighed and pushed his hair back. “I’ll figure that out when it happens.”

  “I think we should have a plan—”

  “My plans don’t normally involve looking after a witchling, but here we are.” Al picked up his sword and shield and sent them into some pocket in the universe he had access to.

  Silence. It was all she could give him because now she knew what her presence meant to him. A fucking burden.

  Sera collected her boots and bloodied socks. The leaves crunched under her as she sat to put them on. Stubborn. Such a stubborn warlock. She hadn’t wanted to go on this mission, to find doorways and an oracle. All she wanted to do was save her sister.

  “Here.” Alistair knelt beside her.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “Give me your foot, Minnow. I’ll heal them for you.”

  If she were a stronger witch, a more spiteful one, maybe she’d refuse just to piss him off further. But the truth was, her feet were killing her, and the longer they sat on the side of the road, the greater the chance the demon would be back.

  Sera lifted her leg, and Alistair tenderly held her heel in his gloved hand. A burst of white magic coated her sole and oozing skin. Cooling and calm, his magic was like dipping her scorching toes into an ice-cold stream. Sera bit her lip to keep from groaning as the layers of her skin knit back together. His jaw ticked, and he grabbed the other foot.

  So much magic. Such a wide variety of uses as well. Most coven members had occupations and worked within their designated roles. Mastrias focused on developing their mind reading abilities; healers concentrated on healing. But Alistair… he could travel. He could heal, glamour, and summon objects. She’d never met anyone this diverse.

  When her foot no longer burned, he dropped it into the clay dust. “Put on two pairs of socks. It prevents blisters,” he said, and grabbed his pack. “There’s a transport to Ironoak, but it doesn’t leave for two weeks. We’re walking.”

  “Wonderful,” she said and hoisted her pack onto her shoulder.

  As Sera crossed the road, she couldn’t help but glance toward Crowpass. She could have sworn she saw the demon astride his horse, watching her. But she blinked, and the vision was gone.

  Chapter fourteen

  Seraphina

  Dusk settled over the forest. Crickets chirped, and glow bugs pulsed with illumination between the low branches. Her calves throbbed, and although she was happy—the pain from her feet had been lessened, thanks to Alistair—she couldn’t help but focus on a new ache that pushed forward. One new, one old. Demon. Her magic.

  Nora had been taken by one of them. He’d slammed Al into a tree like a leaf in the breeze. What chance did she have?

  Sera refused to cry. Crying didn’t help. So she bottled it up just as she had her darkness, as she had her hopes and dreams of becoming something more.

  Alistair found them a place to camp between a set of ancient oaks. He was methodical. Cleared the ground, gathered the wood, and set a fire. He must have done this a hundred times before.

  Was this what life on the road was like? The Solarni coven of the Citadel wasn’t the only band of witches and warlocks on the continent, only the largest. She’d heard about the Suma coven, which dwelled in the forest. It was one of the traveling covens, which would stop at various places to sell goods and wares. Their evenings must have looked similar to this one—a troupe gathering around a fire, settling to the sounds of the woods.

  Alistair had a stick in his hand. He mumbled his spell and drew a circle about eight feet from the center of the fire. A thin barrier surrounded them. It was clear, unlike her blue, but Alistair’s almost glittered in the light of the flames. She could make out the prism of colors only from the corners of her eyes; when she stared directly at it, they disappeared.

  “This will keep us safe through the night,” Al said. Thunder crackled in the distance, and faint blasts of light lit up the sky between the gaps in the leaves.

  Rain sprinkled on the dome around them before beading and rolling off the side.

  “You’ve got a deep well, don’t you?”

  Al grunted. He’d been quiet and moody ever since they left Crowpass. Thankfully, there had been no sign of the demon or any other danger.

  Sera shook out her bedroll, claiming a spot on the opposite side of the fire from Al, and leaned against a fallen log. She grabbed her notebook and opened it to see Dominick’s spidery scrawl.

  1. We are having a conversation about the state of your room as soon as you’re home.

  2. Ithar hugged me when I handed him your box of treasure, which wasn’t as skin-crawling as I imagined.

  3. Please tell me you fucked Al… and don’t spare details!

  She hadn’t wanted to ask him to help with Ithar, but she’d run out of time. She supposed she did deserve a hard conversation about the fact that she’d let herself go, let her lodgings go. There were so many other important things to worry about. Most of all, Nora.

  Things have been dreadful without you here, and it’s only been a day. I have no one to gossip with or ogle warlocks with, and my life is utterly dull without you. So, for selfish reasons, I request that you find that oracle quickly so you can return home to me.

  P.S. I broke up with Sam… he didn’t take it the best

  Sera slid her pen from its holder and wrote her response:

  Thank you for taking care of Ithar for me. As far as my boarding room goes… you try dealing with this magic in your veins on a daily basis.

  I miss you, and no, I haven’t fucked Al, and don’t plan to. Also, for him being as close as a brother to you, you seem to have a weird fascination for details.