A Lonely Magic (33 page)
Authors: Sarah Wynde
“I am bound.” The bitterness in his tone had intensified. He said the words as if they were loathsome.
Fen stilled. “Honor-bound or bound?”
He didn’t answer.
It sounded like an answer.
“Who is allowed to order you to talk?” Her heart raced, her mind churning with it.
“I obey the leader of the Watchers of Val Kyr, the mother of my house, the members of the council of Val Kyr, and the queen of Val Kyr. None of whom are here. In their absence, I follow Baldric’s orders.”
She stared at the wall. The magic felt impatient. It was dancing under her hand, eager to transform, eager to become. But to become what? “He’s dead.”
“And so his orders stand.”
“You thought he was insane.”
“Indeed.” His tone was bleak.
Fen swallowed hard. “Do you obey him by choice or because you have none?”
He didn’t answer.
She turned. His head was down. He stared at his hands, folded in his lap, not looking at her.
She exhaled, trying to make it silent. She could feel the tension leaving her shoulders. It kind of sucked to stand still, waiting for someone to murder you. And it was kind of nice that she’d gotten it right and he hadn’t attacked her.
“The mother of your house. Was that our mother?”
His lips tightened. “No. We are of House Hikari. The mother of the House is Neva.”
“So in order to get you to talk, I need to go to Val Kyr and defeat the mother of your house in the Val Dagora and take over, yeah? Or maybe kick ass in the Val whatever-it-is and make myself queen?”
Malik’s grin was one hundred percent real. “I doubt that will work,” he said gently. “But should you make such happen, I will follow your wish as law.”
Fen nodded at him.
He might doubt her. But the hell with that.
She didn’t know how she’d do it—going to Val Kyr and knocking out their queen was probably not the most realistic plan—but one way or another, she was going to save his life.
She returned to the wall that connected to the hallway. “Door.” The wall shimmered into grey space.
Malik had still not moved from his place next to the opposite wall.
She looked back into the empty cell. “A nice bedroom.” The room leaped into being around Malik. “And a bookcase.” The magic obeyed. “With books,” she added. She narrowed her eyes at the empty space on the shelves as the magic seemed to waver, and nodded in satisfaction as it obeyed her.
She glanced at her brother.
“I’ll be back.”
Author’s Note
Thanks for reading! If you'd like to read more, please sign up for my mailing list at
www.sarahwynde.com
to have news of new releases delivered to your inbox.
If your retailer allows e-book lending, please feel free to share this book with a friend.
As always, I am incredibly grateful to my beta readers for their time and thoughtful feedback. Kara Daniel, you were delightfully hesitant to criticize but your insights into why the beginning bothered you and how the ending didn’t work were some of the most useful feedback I received. Barbara Gavin, the way you blend praise and criticism is beautiful—a professional editor could do no better. Allison Hubble, I’m not sure it’s fair to call you a beta reader—you’re more of an alpha, beta, and gamma reader—but I’m so grateful for your encouragement. Mike Kent, your eye for out-of-character vocabulary and plot holes has been wonderfully helpful—I hope to continue working with you for many books to come. Tim Nutting, your assistance when I’m stuck on a word or awkward sentence is invaluable. Christina Pearson, I hope I managed to nail Cinderella better the fourth time around. Thanks for reading even though you hate critiquing. Rachel Sager, your encouragement keeps me writing. Melanie Ting, you probably won’t ever see this, but I truly did appreciate your help—not all books are for all readers and that’s okay. The world would be a boring place if we all liked exactly the same thing. Carol Westover, you are a wonderful copy-editor—on my next book, I hope you read the last draft instead of the first. Teresa Young, I’m so glad you loved the book even though it wasn’t your usual thing—your encouragement kept me progressing through all of the many later drafts. Thank all of you, so very much.
Additional thanks go to all the people who commented on the first draft as it was posted on fictionpress and the second draft as it was posted on wattpad, including kaypgirl, deets1, Eventual Horizon, gem, IdreamofIvan, JaHarre, Kage Elric, Melony Grace, MidnyteCity, Monsterdia, Nattie, Susan Berger, Valinedel, Zebu blue, Zephiraya, and several unnamed guests.
I also want to thank my family. My terrific, amazing, wonderful son couldn’t care less about my writing, but brings me joy on a regular basis and listens patiently when I need him to, and my incredible father and delightful stepmother, Werner and Charleene Sharp, go above and beyond in being happy for my successes and sympathetic to my stresses.
Finally, I want to thank you, my reader. If you’ve waded all the way through these acknowledgements I’m pretty sure you must have enjoyed the book, and there are no words to express how grateful I am simply to know that you’re out there and that my wild stories entertain you. Thank you for reading!
Other Works
Akira has secrets. But so does the town of Tassamara.
Akira Malone believes in the scientific method, evolution, and Einstein’s theory of relativity. And ghosts.
All the logic and reason in the world can’t protect her from the truth—she can see and communicate with spirits. But Akira is sure that her ability is just a genetic quirk and the ghosts she encounters simply leftover electromagnetic energy. Dangerous electromagnetic energy.
Zane Latimer believes in telepathy, precognition, auras, and that playing Halo with your employees is an excellent management technique. He also thinks that maybe, just maybe, Akira Malone can help his family get in touch with their lost loved ones.
But will Akira ever be able to face her fears and accept her gift? Or will Zane’s relatives be trapped between life and death forever?
Sylvie Blair swore she’d never go back to Tassamara. She was wrong.
At seventeen, Sylvie Blair left her infant son with his grandparents while she went shopping. She never returned. Twenty years later, she’s devastated to learn of his early, untimely death. But although Dillon’s body is long since buried, his spirit lingers on.
And he’s not real happy.
He doesn’t like his mom’s job—too dangerous. He doesn’t like her apartment—too boring. And he definitely doesn’t like her love life—non-existent.
But when Dillon decides that his parents should be living happily ever after, he sets them on a path that leads deeper and deeper into danger.
Can Sylvie let go of the past and embrace the future?
And can Dillon survive the deadly energy he unwittingly unleashes?
The Spirits of Christmas (A Tassamara Short Story)
Akira’s plans are simple: write wedding invitations, bake Christmas cookies, and eat red meat. (The last surprises her, too.) But when Rose, the ghost who haunts her house, asks for a favor, Akira can’t say no. Although she’s faced danger before, even death, a toddler who doesn’t like peanut-butter-and-jelly might be her worst nightmare.
She thought she could see everything. Time is proving her wrong.
Ten years ago, Natalya’s ability to remember the future cost her the life she wanted when her vision of her fiancé’s death tore them apart. Ever since, she’s considered her precognition more of a curse than a gift. How can she live in the present when the future looms so large?
But when the night she’s long dreaded finally arrives, Natalya’s vision and reality diverge. She and her ex, Colin, are drawn into a web of the unexplained, led by a mysterious little girl. Who is Kenzi? And where did she come from? The little girl might be the reason Fate has spared Colin’s life, but could she also bring Natalya and Colin together again?
With Colin, Kenzi, her family, the townspeople of Tassamara, and a set of circumstances that nobody could foresee, Natalya must solve the puzzle of a lifetime. Her discovery that her gift is not the only one at work will change the lives of everyone around her as time becomes precious in a most unexpected way… and the clock is ticking.
