She sniffled. “The way you’ve risen beyond everyone’s expectations, I know the rest of the country is saying that was inevitable. But for all the ways you were already special, I see the effort you’ve put into embracing who you are. And it makes me think that maybe I can, too.”
He clasped a hand over his mouth, then laughed breathlessly. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.”
Ellery gently knocked her shoulder against his arm. “I think it’s my turn.”
Over the next half hour, she and Domenic transformed the world around them again and again. Ellery luxuriated in her magic, reveling in each spell she cast. Until at last, the only piece of the scenery they’d yet to change was the sky. Ellery parted the clouds, revealing the constellations between them. Then, one by one, they fell, an illusory star shower that graced the whole firmament. Yet as the twinkling rained upon them, Ellery realized they were snowflakes, each the size of her palm. She reached for one, and it burst into a cloud of shimmering frost, winking into the night.
It was Winter magic. And it was beautiful.
Domenic gaped at her, his mouth ajar. The frost melted where it touched him, silver sparkles hissing into steam. And as the last of her magic faded, he raised Valmordion.
A hint of color peeked across the eastern horizon. Then, as Domenic traced Valmordion in a steady, careful arc, the light followed him, lilac and cornflower and calendula, as if he painted the entire sky in dawn. A false morning flooded over them, sunlight so convincing Ellery felt the kiss of its warmth on her cheeks.
As Domenic lowered his wand, it almost hurt to stare at his vibrancy: his lips pink, his irises umber, some of his loose strands of hair nearly red in the halo of daylight. Like looking directly into the sun.
Yet Ellery couldn’t bring herself to turn away. He was absolutely extraordinary.
And so was she.
“What?” he asked softly.
Ellery clutched her wand with both hands, lest she reach for him. She wanted to indulge in an entirely different sort of fantasy than the one they’d conjured all night.
“Nothing,” she said, turning away.
For all Ellery could embrace herself, this was the one thing she couldn’t have, the one line she couldn’t cross. They still had a duty to Alderland, and they couldn’t risk distraction. Not with so many fates at stake.
XXIDOMENICWINTER
“So I think we’ve got time for one last round of questions before taking a few calls. Mr. Barrow, several weeks ago, your classmates painted a pretty colorful picture of your reputation. But here you sit, clearly a changed man. So which version of Domenic Barrow is the truth?”
“Well, Floyd, I wish I could deny those reports—I’m not proud of them. But even Chosen Ones have our rebellious teenage years.” Domenic laughed good-naturedly. “What matters is that when Valmordion woke up, so did I.”
Domenic peered at Iseul observing from behind the window ofWake Up, Gallamere!’s recording studio. She nodded, which was good. Domenic could never tell when he was laying it on too thick.
Floyd Wilder laughed with him, so he mustn’t have thought so, either. In person, he looked exactly how Domenic imagined, which was to say, like an absolute jackass. He leaned back in his seat, ankle bobbing atop his knee, cigarette perched lazily between two pale fingers. Maybe this was how he’d lounged when he’d declared on national airwaves that Domenic was doomed to fail.
Wilder turned to Ellery next. “Do you agree with his statement, Miss Caldwell?”
Ellery smiled primly, which Domenic knew to mean she, too, was envisioning strangling this man on live broadcast. “I think there’s always been much more to Barrow than meets the eye.”
Beneath the table, Domenic bumped his knee against hers.
Since they’d fortified the alban network, Alderland hadn’t suffered a single winterscurge. Thus, in their weeks waiting to fulfill the next prophecy piece at the Winter solstice, the pair had little to keep them busy except to woo the public. And so far, in Domenic’s humble opinion, they’d been doing a fantastic job. He’d transformed his golden boy routine into an art. He’d shaken hundreds of hands. Scrawled his barely legible signature on thousands of postcards. He’d even been asked to hold a baby once—a random person had just thrust their offspring into his arms. Domenic had never held a baby before. It’d smelled weird, like sour milk.
Yet Ellery’s performance still put his to shame: accomplished ingénue, Alderland’s sweetheart, and fashion trendsetter. And though Domenic knew shit about clothes, even if this was only a radio appearance, Ellery looked incredible. She shined, the glint of her necklace, the crisp white of her dress, the rolling waves of her hair. Of course the public was in love with her.
“Now as for you, Miss Caldwell,” Wilder said. “Our listeners wanna know: how does a girl from the sticks wind up creating the first Living Wand in a millennium?”
“Well, one of the most wonderful things about being a magician is that magic can find you no matter who you are or where you come from. I’m so grateful to the Order for seeing my potential—I was a real diamond in the rough, you know? But it’s thanks to their support that I wield Iskarius. They took a chance on me long before I knew I was Chosen.”
“And what’s your take on her response, Mr. Barrow?”
“Oh, Caldwell is too modest. To tell the truth, I was a bit intimidated when I found out she was my partner. I thought, wow, even Chosen myself, it’ll be pretty hard to hold a candle to her.”
Under the table, Ellery bumped his knee back.
Wilder smirked. His teeth were bleached white. “Bet it helped that she’s so easy on the eyes, huh?”
