“He only showed up a week ago. But he didn’t need much convincing about Winter magicians. He immediately wanted to talk to you, but the phone lines here are terrible and the mail is slow. So he was about to head to Gallamere to tell you in person. Julian wanted me to come, too, said that a Winter Chosen Oneneeded to know about Winter magicians, and that he could definitely get us a meeting. But instead, well, here you are.”
The timing was quite the coincidence. More than coincidence. Maybe Kester thought so, too. Their gaze bored skeptically into Ellery as they fiddled with their rings again.
Warnings raced through her mind. This could still be a trap. Kester could somehow still be the traitor.
But Ellery didn’t think so. And with each passing second, she suspected—no, she was certain—that she’d been brought here for a reason. Her hand slid toward the winterghast hearts in her pocket.
“Julian was right to want to tell me about this,” she said determinedly. “And I think he should come back. All three of us need to talk.”
Kester went to fetch Julian. When the two of them returned, he handed Ellery a glass of red wine—her favorite—before sliding into the booth beside her. Ellery thanked him, then removed the hearts from her pocket and set them upon the drink-stained table.
Kester frowned at them. “You wanted to show us… enchanted seeds?”
“Not quite,” Ellery began cautiously. “But before I explain, I need you to both promise me that you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone.…”
They promised, and so Ellery explained the Dire Three as briefly and clearly as she could, fielding the necessary follow-up questions about the other Living Wands, including Valmordion and Iskarius. But rather than seeming wary, as soon as she was through, both of them reached eagerly for the seeds.
Kester grabbed the pinecone. Julian snatched the aspen pod.
Instantly, silver light radiated from Maltherius’s heart, casting their dark corner booth in a cool glow.
“I can feel it,” Julian gasped. “My magic suits it, somehow.”
Ellery’s hope flared brighter. “I think it could be your wand.”
“I think so, too.” He stood abruptly. “And you said all we have to do is take it to an aspen tree? We should go, now—”
“Wait,” Ellery said hastily. The horror of Ravfiri’s vigil was still fresh in her mind. So was the vision of Nordmere that Maltherius had shown her.
It had led her directly to its potential wielder.Thatcouldn’t be a coincidence, either.
Maybe it wasn’t Kester she should’ve been worrying about, but Julian. But he couldn’t be Summer’s traitor. She’d known him for too long to think him capable of betraying his country. And the idea that he might somehow have colluded with the winterghast who’d hurt their former classmates, many his own friends, was unfathomable.
“If Maltheriusisyour wand, you need to understand what it was like as a ghast,” she continued solemnly. “It’s the Winter equivalent of Syarthis. It’s no small burden to wield a wand like that.”
Julian paused. He was from the half of their class who’d survived that day only out of happenstance, his schedule shielding him from tragedy. “Syarthis, huh?”
Ellery touched his arm gently. “I didn’t get much say in my fate. You deserve to choose yours.”
He studied the heart a moment longer. Then he shot her a grin, his dark eyes alight with familiar ambition. “I always knew I was destined for a strong corporeal wand. I’ll wield it.”
“Mine’s not doing anything,” Kester grumbled, examining the pinecone.
“I don’t think Eledrium suits you,” Ellery said. “I’m sorry.”
Kester scowled but set the seed down. “Well, are there more?”
“That depends on if we can get this to work.”
Kester rose from the booth. “Then what are we waiting for?”
They exited through the back, past the dumpsters. Trees crowded at the edges of a snowy backyard, and their trio strodequickly into the forest behind it, still cloaked, until they found the nearest aspen.
None of them spoke, but anticipation hummed palpably between them as Julian walked to the tree. He held Maltherius’s heart to its trunk.
For a second, the night was still. Then, with a creak, a branch began to bend. Ellery’s breath caught in her throat. Her gaze locked with Kester’s, on Julian’s other side. And Ellery saw her own hope reflected back at her, and beneath it, something deeper: awe.
After the horror-struck magicians at the border, Maltherius’s attack, and the awful headlines, she’d assumed no one would ever look at Winter’s Chosen that way again.
