Fear of Fire and Shadow (The Fade #1) - Samantha Young Page 0,3

swiftly and quietly into the small village. His face was taut, his eyes narrowed. Something was happening.

The horses drew to a stop with not even a snort, so obedient to their masters’ will. An unpleasant shock moved through me at the feel of Stovia’s hand in my hair.

“Now, little one,” he whispered, “time to see how well that magic of yours works.”

I shifted away from him. “I have no magic.”

He chuckled. “You’re one of the Azyl, child.”

One of the Azyl? No. He was mistaken.

“I’m not.”

With a growl, Stovia dismounted and none too gently ripped me from the saddle. My feet hadn’t even hit the ground before he shook me, my eyes rolling back in my head with the force of it. “Stop pretending!” he hissed, careful not to raise his voice. He released me and I stumbled as he lowered his body so his austere face was level with my own. Those wicked black eyes bore through me. “In this village is one of the Dravilec. I want you to seek out my healer. Now.”

At the command, a wave of energy crashed over me and my whole body hummed with tingling vibrancy. I turned to face the village. And I sensed her. The Dravilec. Six years old. Valena of Daeronia. We were in Daeronia. Thought so. We were growing closer to Sabithia. To Silvera. To the princezna.

Wait.

I am an Azyl.

I swayed at the thought. Every time my father had told me the stories, I’d wished desperately for a little piece of magic in our lives.

I had been a mage all along.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to be with my family.

What would Stovia do to Valena’s family? Would he murder them in cold blood if they refused to hand her over? I knew, even without my help, that he would find Valena. He was a powerful Glava. Could sense magic. But that didn’t mean I had to aid in the destruction of another family.

“No,” I whispered.

“What?” Stovia growled.

I spun around, defiant, hatred blazing out of my eyes. I wished I were Glava with the ability to summon the elements. I’d set him on fire and watch him burn for what he had done to me. To Kir. For what he would do to Valena.

“I said … no.”

His fist connected with my face with such force, I flew to the ground. The breath whooshed out of me at the agonizing blow to my ribs as I hit the hard dirt. My eyes watered at the painful heat across the left side of my face. Blood trickled out of the corner of my mouth and I tasted copper on my tongue.

Kir cried out my name.

But Stovia wasn’t done. He grabbed me by the clasp on my cloak and held me so he could slap me across the right side of my face. The world rang in my ears.

I refused to cry.

“Find me the healer, girl, or you’ll wish you were dead.”

“No!” Kir yelled.

“Shut him up,” Stovia hissed.

I heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh, of Kir grunting.

No.

“No,” I groaned, lolling limply in Stovia’s grasp. “Stop.”

“Will you find the Dravilec?”

I couldn’t. “No.”

“Lash the boy to the nearest tree. He’s going to pay for Rogan’s disobedience.”

My heart lurched, and I shrugged around Stovia to watch through blurred vision as they dragged a bleeding, crying Kir to the nearest tree trunk. They tore at his shirt. One of them produced a horsewhip, and Kir whimpered in terror. Vomit rushed up my throat, but I willed the acidic show of weakness down.

“Stop,” I murmured weakly. “Stop. Don’t hurt him. I’ll do it.”

Stovia studied me, seemingly fascinated. Then he nodded at his men and they drew Kir’s cloak over him before dragging him back to the horses. His right eye was already swelling shut, matching my left one.

“Tut-tut, Rogan,” Stovia whispered. “You’ve just shown me your weakness. I imagine I could have battered you into oblivion and you would not have given in. But you won’t let someone else be hurt because of you. Interesting. And useful. Now find me the Dravilec.”

I was gripped with nauseating shame as I took the guards through the winding, quaint, peaceful village. By now we had made enough noise to rouse people from their homes, and they gathered on doorsteps nervously as their eyes took in the Royal Guard and the two beaten children with them. I came to a stop at the door of a shop. An apothecary.

“Here.”

Stovia smiled at me, his eyes brimming with pride. I hated him. “Yes,