Prisoner (The Scarred Mage of Roseward #2) - Sylvia Mercedes Page 0,101

branches.

An idea took shape in her mind.

Aware that the shadow-being might even now be lurching toward her, Nelle placed a hand on the trunk. She hated to speak aloud but didn’t know if the magic would work any other way. In a low hiss of a whisper, she breathed, “Grow!”

Something bulged under her hand, a hard knot springing suddenly to life. She pulled her hand back and saw a little branch unfurl before her eyes. It wasn’t much, but it felt sturdy enough to hold her weight. Other branches sprang out higher up, running the height of the pillar. Stifling the glad cry in her throat, Nelle prepared to climb.

Something heavy landed on her shoulder.

A stink like sulfur filled her nose.

Nelle whirled, eyes widening as she stared up into a featureless shadow of a face. Only . . . it wasn’t featureless anymore. Even as she looked, a mouth gaped open—side-to-side rather than up-and-down. A billow of white-hot fire mounded up inside and rippled beneath the dark exterior, lighting up features that were horribly almost human but simultaneously utterly inhuman. Two burning moon eyes blazed into hers, and an unnatural shriek broke the silence, drowning out Nelle’s scream.

Instinct took over. Nelle swung her arm, still gripping the poker, and drove the nilarium spike straight into that gaping mouth.

The moon eyes goggled.

Then, in a burst of heat and darkness that knocked Nelle back against the tree-pillar, the being exploded. Nelle flung up her arms to protect her face but felt only specks of moisture against her skin. When she lowered her arms and dared look again, she was covered in little beads of black liquid. The shadow-thing was gone. Where it had stood lay the nilarium poker, bent and twisted like a limp noodle.

Pain brought Nelle to her senses. Trying to swallow back a whimper, she looked down and saw that one of the branches had torn into her torso. Her corset bodice was stained dark with blood. How bad the wound was she couldn’t tell, but it hurt. She knew that much.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she knew other shadowy beings were manifesting in the darkness on the other side of her pillar. Slow-witted but curious, disturbed by the sudden demise of one of their brothers. They would be on her in a moment.

She didn’t have a second poker.

Simultaneously pivoting and pushing her satchel aside to bounce against the small of her back, Nelle grabbed the nearest branch and pulled. She got her foot onto the branch that had stabbed her. It was broken but still solid enough to support her weight. Pain knifed through her side, but fear and adrenaline pulsed thunderously through her limbs, and she climbed quickly. Some distant part of her mind admired the way the magically summoned branches had grown at such even and convenient intervals.

Only when she was halfway up the pillar and on a level with the window did she dare look down. Three shadow-beings shambled along the floor beneath her, so silent that she wouldn’t know they were there had her eyes not magically opened. They seemed confused, aimless. One of them stumbled over the twisted nilarium poker and bent to examine it. Its whole body folded neatly in half to bring the head-like protrusion down to the floor.

Then it looked up.

She felt those non-eyes searching for her among the branches. Could it see her? Sense her? Could it climb?

She looked to the window again. It was tall, broad, and peaked, with a sill big enough for her to stand on, and it appeared to be open, though she couldn’t tell for certain.

She glanced down again. All three shadow-beings had gathered around the base of her tree. They were looking up. At her. She was sure of it. At any moment they would start to climb. She had to get across to that window. But how?

Nelle looked down at the branch her left hand gripped. She tightened her hold, feeling the magic inside it, ready and waiting. “Grow,” she said. “Grow now!”

The branch wriggled in her grasp. The instant she let go, the branch twisted, writhed, and began to sprout from the tree-pillar, thickening as it went. The tree groaned at the suddenness of growth, and the whole structure trembled. She was abusing the magic, forcing it to grow so big, so fast. What’s more, she felt it taking a toll on her body. The effort of creation was enough to make her head spin.

Clinging to the

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