“Helping you hunt,” Ladonna said. A surprised chuckle escaped her mouth. “But I wasn’t expecting
“I told you to collect firewood!”
“No need … I cast an Unseen Servant to take care of that for us. We have more than enough now. In fact, why are we even hunting? Can’t you just use a spell to stun-”
“No!” Tythonnia said. She could feel her temper slip, her voice rise in pitch, and her anger provoking the better of her. Another part of her, however, was content to let that happen. “Is everything magic with you? Can’t you survive without it?”
“Better than any of you know,” Ladonna said, her voice chilled.
“Really? Or maybe you just can’t let anyone else prove their worth? It has to be about you and what you can do.”
“Or maybe,” Ladonna said, “I was trying to help you.”
“You can help me by staying out of my way. I know what I’m doing.”
“Oh yes, skulking about in the darkness like a beast, that’s a fine talent. Maybe it’s not me who’s desperately trying to prove her worth.”
“I’m doing this for you!” Tythonnia protested. “The both of you!”
“I don’t need your help,” Ladonna said.
“What’s going on?” a voice asked. Par-Salian stood in the shadow of a tree, his gaze curious but cautious.
Without a word of explanation, however, Ladonna turned and brushed past him as though he were nothing more than another branch. He turned to ask Tythonnia, but she was too upset to respond. She simply waved him off and shook her head. Don’t ask.
Par-Salian shrugged and followed Ladonna, leaving Tythonnia alone. A moment later, their footfalls faded Tythonnia took the quiet moment to regain her thoughts before creeping forward again, hunting for another meal. She listened intently, but the copse was silent, its denizens scared away by the intruders and the strange scent of magic. The red wizard could sense the change as well; even her memories refused to return. They were gone, as were her feelings of contentment. It was nothing like home anymore.
Tythonnia spit a curse that would have shocked her father, who always swore a blue streak, and headed back to her camp. There would be no cooked meal to warm the bones and fill their sleep with happy thoughts. It would be rations-salted beef, pickled carrots, and perhaps a candied fig to wash down the taste.
Maybe their hunger tomorrow would instill Ladonna with some regret. Tythonnia doubted it, however.
“Where are you going?”
Ladonna didn’t bother turning around to face Par-Salian. “A walk,” she said, heading for the open field. She didn’t want to be around them right then. She was angry. It made it hard to think, and more important, it made her spiteful. In that instant, she despised everyone. She hated Tythonnia and she hated Par-Salian. And Par- Salian’s attempts to mollify her grated on her nerves even more.
“It’s not safe out there.”
Ladonna turned around long enough to level Par-Salian with a seething gaze. “I’m sure I can handle any wayward cows,” she said.
“That’s not what I meant,” Par-Salian replied. “I think we should talk about-”
“Not now,” Ladonna said as she walked away. “And I suggest you learn to understand women better. I don’t need your help.”
To Par-Salian’s credit, he didn’t pursue the matter. Ladonna marched into the darkness and continued past the high grass that stroked her hips. In the lonely quiet, her anger bled away and her nerves went still. Ladonna turned to gain her bearings; she could barely make out the clutch of trees against the distant sky, but it would be enough to guide her back eventually.
Ladonna found an outcropping of rocks that broke the sea of grass and sat upon her granite throne. It was too peaceful out here, too quiet. Absent were the noises she found familiar, the sounds of a city that never truly slept. The noise of humanity. The sleeping breath of other children. She missed that; she missed the sense of family, the close-knit bonds that made survival more bearable. She inhaled deeply, as though winded by the memories.
What’s bothering me? she wondered. She was usually in better control of her emotions. She angered too easily these days, too quick to the boiling. And too quick after that to the overflowing, rash decisions and actions she would always regret.
It was a step back, a relapse into someone-something she was before. She grew angry again, her ire slowly flaring. She recognized elements of her old self, the volatile temper and its aftermath. The violence was still there, the child made into beast, a creature of stark instincts. She wasn’t that animal anymore. In fact, she hated that animal. It took years to tame it and break its conditioning. But why was it returning? Why was she relapsing into someone she abandoned years before?
Palanthas, she realized. Her city, her den. She was returning home, and that meant facing a legion of fears and bad memories. She was going back to face the monsters, a child at the mercy of the merciless. That alone spurred her heart to racing faster.
Sutler.
Ladonna shifted uncomfortably on the rock. Palanthas was stripping away her crafted veneer, exposing the frightened little thing beneath.
Stop this! Ladonna chastised herself. What am I afraid of? That I’ll become that child again? I am a wizard of the black robes, the most feared of practitioners, the strongest of spellcasters.
She forced herself to dispel the storm of emotions that welled within her. She was no longer that defenseless child, that urchin thief. A gulf of fifteen years separated who she was then from herself at that moment. It had been fifteen years of magical preparation and dedication, fifteen years of training to survive and surpass one life-altering test for a lifetime of power and mystical prowess. She commanded fire, ice, shadow, wind, earth, and even death itself. She communed with those things that could not be seen, and how they feared her.
A smile crept across Ladonna’s lips. Oh how she would have loved to have possessed those powers as a child, to have protected herself and provided for the brothers and sisters she made on the streets of Palanthas. She could think of a few men and women who would have benefited from her more punishing magics. The lessons she could have taught men such as Sutler …
Sutler.
Her bones still ached from his touch.
Ladonna rose from the rocks and slowly made her way back to the others. Palanthas wasn’t a reunion to be feared, she told herself. Palanthas was an opportunity to fulfill the wishes of a vindictive street urchin who never had the strength to fight back. She was returning home a conqueror, and as all conquerors are wont to do, she was looking forward to the settling of old scores.
Par-Salian continued watching her, even after she’d vanished into the night.
Should I go after her? he wondered. When he was a young man, he’d once courted a woman who flew into tantrums and stormed off. She wanted to be chased and mollified. She wanted the attention regardless of the cost. Par-Salian hesitated. Ladonna was nothing like the women he’d bedded, albeit all those years before. The near two decades of study and consideration had softened his ardor, and the years had dulled the adventure and romantic zeal from his blood. He questioned himself and his decisions more. In fact, Highmage Astathan’s recent interest in him made him uncomfortable. He knew that the White Robes held some expectations for him, and that frightened him.
What if I fail?
What if I’m not up to the task?
Like tonight, he thought miserably. He had been asked to lead the small expedition and maintain their cohesion. Yet here they were, on their first night alone, and already he could see the schisms forming. Worse, perhaps, nobody wanted to tell him why. Tythonnia was hunting and stewing in her anger, and Ladonna was off somewhere in the darkness, alone with her thoughts. He wanted to help her, to make things better, but her gaze
