Not that Hanna, one of the Order’s most influential members, worried about petty things like danger or laws.
I promised her,Domenic reminded himself.I promised her. I promised—
“Halt!” a voice called from ahead. “How did you get in here? This area is off-limits!”
Hanna stiffened—she clearly hadn’t expected company. Yet as she whirled around, readying Syarthis, it was Domenic who reacted first. He grasped the steady warmth of power in his rib cage, then channeled it into one of the three classes of magic: corporeal magic. A stunning spell blasted out of his wand in a flash of white. The guard cried out as it struck him in the chest, and his unconscious body crumpled to the floor.
Domenic paced wildly, stricken by the guard’s appearance, at his own lack of hesitation. “Shit,” he gasped. Gravely, he took in the guard’s wand fallen at his side. Its elm shaft was contorted and grayed like a sliver of driftwood, striped with saltwater stains. That was no training wand. “I just attacked an Order magician.”
Hanna cursed as well, clutching Syarthis against her heart. “Sorry, I didn’t think we’d run into… It’s fine. It’ll all be fine. I’ll take care of him.”
As she started forward, this time, it was Domenic who seizedherwrist. “‘Take care of him’? Are you serious?”
“You got a better idea?”
He didn’t.
Muttering under her breath, she shrugged him away and strode toward the guard’s body. She crouched, cupping his jaw and resting Syarthis at the corner of his eye. A lone teardrop spilled out, shimmering like a bead of glass—his memory of this encounter. The wand’s curved tip unraveled and snatched it faster than a serpent’s tongue. When the guard woke, he’d have a new memory of the night entirely.
Though Living Wands could perform all classes of magic, each bore a specialty. Syarthis was the most powerful corporeal wand, famous for its ability to devour and alter even a person’s most precious memories. According to Hanna, Syarthis possessed an archive of a thousand years’ worth of recollections. And so, while other newly fledged members of the Order maintained the nation’s infrastructure or joined the unceasing war against Alderland’s deadly winters, Hanna worked as a uniquely specialized historian, exploring Syarthis’s hoard the way archeologists might excavate ruins that had gone centuries without human touch. However, she did so under intense supervision. Many of her predecessors had broken their own minds under the immensity of Syarthis’s power.
Domenic never doubted that Hanna was brilliant, that she knew her limits.
But she wasn’t the only one who worried.
Hanna kicked at the air. “I had it all figured out, I swear. I made arrangements with the guards and everything—the guards who weresupposedto be here tonight. They promised me they’d—”
“I don’t care about them, Hanna. I care about you. My skipping class is one thing, butyou—sneaking into the Citadel? Bribing guards? Wiping someone’s memory like it’s nothing? You’re so… You’re so…”
“So what, Dom?” Hanna glared up at him. Their shared fameaside, they’d always made a distinctive pair: Domenic measuring far above six feet even when he slouched, Hanna not close to gracing five even in her bulky boots. Domenic so slender his suspenders were never optional, Hanna soft everywhere but the razored points of her smile. Yet they did have one trait in common—that same fierce, haunted stare. A stare that had seen each other through the worst but refused to see the worst in each other.
“So…” His voice caught in his throat.
“No, I want to hear you say it. Sowhat?”
He swallowed, wondering if he could finally bring himself to say all the things he buried deep.
“Look,” he spoke instead, “I don’t care what happens to me. If the Order had the balls to expel me, they would’ve done it years ago. But if we get caught, what happens to you? What happens to Iseul?”
“We won’t get caught,” she answered, so cavalierly, so infuriatingly matter-of-fact. But she was probably right. Hanna was a stronger magician than anyone relegated to the Citadel’s night shift. And even without a Living Wand, Domenic probably was too. “And Iseul wanted me to talk to you. She—”
“I doubtthisis what Iseul had in mind.”
“All right. Coming here was my idea. But we’re both worried about you. Sometimes we wonder…”
“Wonderwhat?”
Hanna’s tone went hushed and careful. “Wonder if you even want to be a magician.”
Domenic flinched. Magic might’ve nearly killed him once, but helovedmagic. He’d always loved magic.
“What? Of course I do,” he choked. “How could you think that?”
“Because you’re eighteen,Dom. You still have time, but if you keep waiting for whatever you deem the perfect wand, you’ll miss your window entirely. Is that what you want? Tonever join the Order? To be a hedge magician for the rest of your life?”
“No,obviously. But I’m not like you. I don’t want a powerful wand.”
“All Living Wands are powerful.”
