CALLISTA LED THE WAY THROUGH THE CROWDED STREETS. PERHAPSpeople knew the face of the Silver Sorceress, perhaps it was the sparkle of her stunning gown, but a path parted in front of them, and they were able to move quickly. Even so, it was well into the afternoon by the time they reached the barn.
Thia knocked once to warn Dess of their arrival, then slid the door open. He raised his head as they entered, whatever warm greeting he was poised to offer Thia disappearing as he took in Callista. She was striking, even beyond the clothes, with her long blonde hair perfectly waved, her metallic silver eyes both dangerous and alluring.
“This is—” Thia started.
“The Silver Sorceress,” Dess guessed. He hastened to his feet and bowed.
“You’ve heard of me,” Callista said with a shake of her curls, evidently pleased.
Behind Dess, Oskaren was motionless, her skin gray. New since Thia’s departure was the strangeness of the girl’s veins, blue-black and spidering out across her skin.
Thia sucked in a breath. “Is she—”
Dess shook his head. “Still breathing.”
Thia reached for Callista’s arm. “Can you help her?”
But the sorceress was already moving, walking toward Oskaren with a look of immense sadness and anger Thia didn’t understand.
But then it was gone, replaced by a cool mask of efficiency. “Of course,” the sorceress said. She bent over Oskaren’s motionless body, peeling back the layers of her singed breeches.
The leg beneath was a gruesome mess, the flesh charred and gray, white bone peeking through. New veins dripped over the opening, thick navy strings that had wormed through the cauterization, spreading along with the infection. Dess covered his mouth, and Thia clutched his shoulder.
“Where’s Mavrel?” she asked, scanning the rafters.
Dess tore his face away from Oskaren. “I sent him after you this morning. I was worried when you didn’t return.”
“Let’s hope he finds Thran.”
“Or not,” Dess mumbled, and Thia turned to protest.
But then Callista spread her hands above Oskaren’s wound and began chanting. “Fosvera fasmora.” Her hands glowed with white light.
Oskaren’s eyes shot open. Her pupils were enormous, devouring the dark brown of her irises in pools of onyx. Her sclera was marked with the same blue-black veins, and her mouth hung open in a silent scream.
“Hold her down,” Callista demanded.
Thia lunged forward, falling on Oskaren’s good leg, as Dess took the girl’s shoulders just in time for her to start thrashing. “What’s happening?” Thia gasped, Oskaren’s knee slamming into her thigh.
“I’m burning the dark magic from her veins,” Callista said. “It’s lucky I found you when I did, or she would be dead.” The sorceress winced, the light from her palms flickering. “Now, keep quiet. I must focus.”
Thia shut her mouth. She clutched Oskaren’s leg, forcing it against the ground as Callista continued to pour currents of magic into the girl’s body. Oskaren bucked and screamed, her eyes bulging.
Then it was over.
Callista sagged visibly, the light from her hands fading. Oskaren was still, peaceful almost, veins red again, the wound closed, covered by a shiny, silver scar. She let out a sigh, rolling onto her side, asleep.
Thia watched her for a few minutes while the sorceress recovered her breath. “She’ll be alright?”
Callista nodded. “I imagine she’ll rest for a few hours, but she will live and live well.”
Thia expelled a breath. “Thank you. So much.”
Callista considered her. “It seems your journey has been eventful in more ways than one.” Thia assumed the sorceress referred to her injured wrist and moved to present it, but her next words knocked Thia off course. “How marvelous to have found love in such perilous times.”
Thia blinked. “Love?” Even Dess raised his eyebrows in surprise.
Callista’s voice was low. “Do you not love her?”
