she accepted the wand and sheathed it alongside the blade at her hip.
And so they began every covert encounter from there on with Thierren silently offering up his wand and Sparrow silently taking it. A symbol, more than anything, that Thierren was ready to listen. Really listen. It did nothing to shift the oppressive dynamic between their cultures, but it was a start, fueling the fragile spark of friendship that had unexpectedly lit. A friendship that they’re both careful to edge back from, Thierren, out of respect for Sparrow’s traumatic situation, Sparrow for blaringly obvious reasons.
But still, Thierren’s heart twisted with surprising force when he brought both Sparrow and Effrey, camouflaged as state-sanctioned Urisk workers, to the Indentured Labor Guild Office, their small dragon, Raz’zor, hidden with Thierren while his wing healed. As Thierren held Sparrow’s gaze, he was surprised to find that she seemed loath to part from him as well, her normally guarded expression briefly igniting with fierce emotion as they bid each other a terse goodbye. As he watched them go, Thierren fought the ferocious desire to draw his wand, cut down every Mage in the room, and flee East with Sparrow and Effrey.
But he couldn’t protect them, not with a Mage Guard runic brand on his neck—a brand that made it possible for the Mage Guard to kill him in an instant, even from a distance.
Instead, he kept his power in check as Sparrow and Effrey were whisked away, both of them quickly lost in a sea of Urisk being processed for labor assignments by pinch-faced Mages. Thierren stared after them for a long moment, his heart constricting in his chest, his wind and water magery whipping up into a tempest inside him as a ferocious resolve gained ground.
Yes, he’d endure whatever punishments Lukas Grey doled out and play the faithful soldier until he could get the vile mark stripped off his flesh.
Then he’d help Sparrow and Effrey get East safely. And then, he would come back West.
To fight the Mages.
* * *
Lukas Grey brusquely dismisses his Level Five Mage Guards, leaving the two of them alone in the imposing chamber. Then Lukas levels his deep-green gaze on Thierren, raptor-hard.
“I’m assigning you to a position as my personal envoy,” Lukas states, his green eyes trained on Thierren, as if gauging his reaction.
Thierren gives a hard, inward start, his mind cast into confusion.
Where is the punishment for trying to stop the killing of the Dryads? For turning his wand on Sylus Bane?
He’s been told again and again not to expect any mercy from Mage Lukas Grey.
A heavy silence hangs in the room.
“What are your aims, Mage Stone?” Lukas finally asks, lethally calm.
To fight you, Thierren inwardly snarls. To fight every soldier in the Guard if I have to, to get Sparrow and Effrey and their small dragon out of this nightmare land.
“I’d like to earn my way to freedom,” Thierren says cautiously as he holds Lukas’s penetrating gaze.
Lukas rises, strides around to the front of his desk, and unsheathes his wand.
Thierren braces himself and pulls in a strained breath, ready for whatever torture this Mage will inflict. He swallows as Lukas takes firm hold of his upper arm, presses the tip of his wand right onto the rune mark on Thierren’s neck, and murmurs a series of spells.
A prickling sensation rises along the lines of the circular tracking rune, the sting quickly dissipating to nothing as Lukas removes the wand from Thierren’s skin and takes a casual seat against the front edge of his broad Ironwood desk.
Thierren reaches up to rub his neck, the constant, almost imperceptible burn of the rune completely gone. A whoosh of bewilderment almost pulls him off balance. “What did you do?” he asks.
“Freed you,” Lukas says, challenge in his eyes.
It’s a trick. It has to be a trick. Thierren glares at him, cast further into cornered astonishment. “Why would you do that?” he demands, not able to keep the defensive anger from breaking through his tone.
Lukas’s eyes tighten with a sly expression that reads, Ah, good, there it is. The real Thierren.
“Do you know why I’ve assigned you to be my personal envoy, Mage Stone?” Lukas asks, almost congenially.
The insubordinate words burst out of Thierren before he can rein them in. “I don’t really care, Mage Grey.” It’s clear that Lukas has somehow found him out.
Lukas gives a short laugh, seeming impressed, as he throws Thierren a look of approval. “I assigned you to be my personal envoy because I hear that