The Heartwood Chronicles

Heartwood readers, I have good news and bad news.

The bad news first (just to get it over with). I’m taking an extended break from the Heartwood Chronicles to work on WITCHBLAZE, the third book in the Reflected City series. I could juggle two long-term creative projects during the summer, but the reality of the school year is that I don’t have the time and energy for both.

This is actually good news for the Heartwood Chronicles. I can’t do this story justice if I’m trying to squeeze it in the margins of my life. I don’t want to only wrap up the Whispering Winds Arc, I want to wrap it up well.

I did a lot of brainstorming on Heartwood back in July and August. I figured out the overall antagonists, what they want, and the broad brush strokes of their plan to accomplish their goals. I have the premise of the next arc, which will be from Lisette’s POV (I’m super-excited about this!). I also mapped out the bonus story that’ll go in the back of the e-book containing the first three arcs. The Heartwood Librarian makes her first appearance in it (squeee!).

This is not a project I’ve gotten bored of and want to drop. I just don’t have a timeless pocket universe to jump into so I can work on All The Stories in my head (siiiiiigh).

Amber and the rest will be back. They kinda have to–I even started a Pinterest inspiration board for them. In the meantime, do feel free to ask questions and make comments on the story so far. You can email me directly, or click over to my site to leave a comment.

Amber snatched at the pattern threads around her, reacting faster than she’d ever thought.

The threads whipped through her seeking fingers, blowing out of reach.

Oh, Sustainer, I’m going to—

And then something thick and cool wrapped around her waist and legs, cradled her gently, slowed her fall. It thrummed with energy—Amber felt it vibrating through her bones.

She looked down and gasped.

Water leapt up from the valley bottoms in a kind of reverse waterfall, splitting into gushing tendrils that coiled up her legs and around her torso. The hiss of moving water replaced the sound of rushing air.

The main column of water, a white fountain that shed droplets like diamonds, rose higher. It lifted Amber up and up, finally depositing her on the formation she and Troi had fought Aivaan and Naia on.

Naia herself set on the very edge of it, her face scrunched up in fierce concentration, twisting and untwisting the fabric of her skirt. Her silver suns had turned so white they were nearly clear. Tiny rainbows gleamed in their hearts.

With a last heave, the water pushed Amber onto the rock. The main fountain, spent, fell the long, long way down into the valley with a distant crash. The watery ropes around Amber lost form, splattered, and drenched Amber from the waist down.

Naia grimaced. “How artless. That part needs work.”

Amber stared at her. Now that the sounds of wind and water had died, she could hear the rush of her own blood, the pounding of her own heart. Her legs had turned to wobbling jelly, and her hands and feet were cold and bloodless.

She’d nearly died and Naia was sitting here, critiquing her rescue effort?

Amber started to giggle. She laughed so hard, she couldn’t hold herself up. She collapsed onto the ground next to Naia, who looked at her with amused amazement. Amber drew her knees up to her chest.

It was then she realized that the laughter had given to tears.

Her shoulders heaving, Amber rested her forehead on her knees and wept.

Beside her, Naia shifted closer and patted Amber comfortingly on the shoulder.

The gesture brought Amber to herself. With a sniff and a gulp, she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, then hunted through her pockets for a handkerchief. She blew her nose with a final, decided kind of sniff.

She was not the type to melt into a puddle, even if her day so far had been very trying. Thank goodness she hadn’t done this in front of her team mates. At least Naia she would never see again after this day.

The Kaidan girl’s eyes were full of sympathy, but for once she held her tongue.

“I’m all right now,” Amber reassured her. “It was just a momentary… weakness.”

Naia raised her eyebrows. “You nearly plummeted to your death. You can be forgiven for wanting a good howl after that. I would.”

Amber gave a watery chuckle.

“And,” Naia went on, eyes narrowed, squinting into the distance, “for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about what Doua did.”

“Ah… well, accidents happen sometimes,” Amber assured her.

Naia sniffed. “That was no accident. Not where Miss Perfect Control Doua is concerned. She may be a nasty piece of work sometimes, but her skill is the real deal. Unfortunately.” The Kaidan girl made a face.

Amber was silent, remembering that swell of murderousness around Doua. She hadn’t mistaken that, after all. “It’s only a game, after all,” she said out loud. “Why’s she so serious about it?”

“Because of Shai Daan, I expect.” Naia got to her feet. “Doua’s the daughter of one of his family retainers. The Shai clan must breed them for fanatical loyalty, if the stories from the Clan Wars era are to be believed. She takes Shai honor terribly seriously—more seriously than the family themselves, it seems. If Shai Daan expects her to win, she’ll do whatever it takes, even if it means taking out an opponent–permanently.” Naia dusted off her skirts with unnecessary vigor, head down, voice even, but the set of her mouth was angry.

Amber shivered. “She didn’t need to go that far. It’s not like I was any competition for her. She could’ve disabled me with a snap of her fingers.”

Naia straightened and considered her for a moment. “Probably,” she said. “Your magic is unusual, but it isn’t very strong.”

Amber had said as much herself, but it still stung coming from someone else. She twitched her shoulder in a half-shrug, but Naia widened her eyes and suddenly, sharply slapped her hands against her cheeks.

“Sorry!” The Kaidan girl exclaimed. “I said too much again! Ugh, things just slip out sometimes. I didn’t intend to put you down.” She looked ready to throw herself on the ground in apology.

“It’s fine,” Amber said hurriedly. “I know I’m not much good at combat. I have other skills.” She cringed as the last words slipped out of her mouth. No matter how nice Naia was, she was still an opponent. The last thing Amber needed was Naia thinking about why Heartwood had sent a weak battle mage into the tournament.

Maybe I should slap my cheeks!

Naia raised her eyebrows. “More secrets, huh? Don’t worry—I’m not interested in political machinations. I’m only here to make Troi see sense, but that was always going to be a long shot.” She sighed, and for a moment, she looked tired and dispirited. Then, shaking it off, she said briskly, “I’m Naia, by the way. I don’t expect Troi mentioned me.”

“Uh, you’re right about that.” Amber felt bad for the other girl. “I’m Amber.”

“You’re from Ravin, right?” Naia put her hands on her hips and surveyed Amber. “You don’t look like you’re in love with Troi, though.”

“Wha..?” Amber spluttered, heat rising in her cheeks. “I am most assuredly not!

“Good,” said Naia. Then, seeing Amber’s expression, she hastened to add, “Oh, it’s not on my account, though. He’s just a hard person to be around these past several years. Any girl foolish enough to give him her heart will find the experience painful.”

Amber blinked. “But aren’t you engaged to him?” It felt so odd, saying it out loud. She couldn’t really see the two as a couple.

Naia shrugged. “Yes, but it’s not a mushy-love thing, it’s a family-duty thing. As you can tell, Troi’s not big into family duty right now.” She peered into the distance. “I think the battles are still going on.”

Spells tugged and pulled at the pattern. Amber couldn’t stretch her magic senses very far yet, but that warm distant glow had to be Kael. And that writhing, angry blot of suns and magic all tangled together—Troi had caught up with Aivaan.

Behind them more magic vibrated through the pattern—the spellwork of younger Heartwood and Torou mages still fighting it out.

But none of those accounted for that odd skew Amber had noted, that permanent stretch and slope of the pattern.

There was something else deeper in this valley, something whose magical weight Amber couldn’t even fathom.

Naia was still turned towards the battles ahead of them, the ones they could not see. Amber didn’t know what she could sense, but the girl’s body was tense and alert. Despite what she had said earlier, she cared at least a little about the outcome.

And I have a job to do. In a way, her job had only just begun.

Naia turned to Amber, eyes sparking with mischief. “We’re both out of the tournament, but no one said we had to go back. Want to come with me and see how the others are doing?”

“Sure!” said Amber, relieved. She’d figure out a way to shake Naia off later—maybe take her to Troi and Aivaan’s battle and leave her there to sort out the brothers’ issues.

“Great! And” —Naia grinned, raising her hands. A watery bridge rose from the valley floor, arching from their rock to another—”I want to practice some more!”

 

“He didn’t used to be like this, you know,” said Naia as she and Amber traversed yet another stomach-twisting gap between formations. Amber swiftly wound pattern threads around the bundle of silver-grey water, holding it more firmly together, anchoring its ends into rock. The other girl’s bridge spell had improved exponentially, but Amber couldn’t entirely trust the new spell.

Not with the other girl chattering so much as she worked, her hands moving in empty and careless gestures. How in the world did Naia do magic this way?

And for someone who claimed that her engagement was only a “family duty thing,” Naia sure talked a lot about Troi.

“He used to be such a sweet, serious boy,” Naia went on over her shoulder as she led the way. “The perfect little gentleman, really. I thought I was sooo lucky back then.” She shook her head at her younger self’s delusions.

“What happened to him?” Surely with Naia freely giving up all this information, this didn’t really count as prying into Troi’s past, did it?

Naia shook her head. “His grandfather died.” She hesitated. “Well, it’s all the stuff that happened before his grandfather died.” She paused, then turned around to face Amber, her expression serious. Amber stopped, too.

The bridge undulated under their feet, bobbing gently. Aside from the occasional slosh of water and sigh of air, it was so very quiet. Amber’s ears strained the silence for even the smallest sounds.

“His grandfather went mad,” said Naia, voice low. “He called up a terrible storm and destroyed an entire island. People, houses, trees—all swept away. From what I heard the whole place—an island that had once held a thousand people—was scoured clean, left completely empty. Not even a scrap of clothing nor a stick of wood remained.”

Amber’s head whirled trying to imagine the magnitude of that disaster—and the magic required to produce it. “Why?” she whispered. “Why did he do it?”

Naia’s mouth went wry. She twitched her shoulder. “I told you he went mad, didn’t I? It happens, sometimes, with those of us who have strong suns. It’s not only Serepentine High Mages who suffer from insanity.”

“But…” began Amber, still wrestling with the idea of great magic breeding great madness. “The Serepentine mages fed their magic with twisted appetites. It’s not the same thing. Is it?”

Naia looked at her with sober kindness, as if trying to letting a young child down as gently as possible. “Most Ravinian magic is runic, yes? Perhaps that’s why. But it’s not unheard of for sun mages to suddenly snap. That’s why there are… procedures.”

Amber narrowed her eyes at the way Naia spoke the last word. “And what are those?”

“Mages who go mad have their suns removed and their magic scraped away.” Naia looked away. “It’s not painless.”

Amber winced.

“Troi’s grandfather never recovered from the procedure,” Naia went on, tonelessly. “He lived, but he was just a husk of a man. He could barely recall his own family. His health was fragile; his mental capabilities reduced. A year later, he became sick and died.”

“And Troi?”

Naia shook her head. “He couldn’t accept it. Couldn’t accept that his beloved grandfather had done that terribly thing, couldn’t accept that the procedure was necessary. He blamed his parents, his uncles, all the Irekai elders for doing that to his grandfather. All this time, he’s seeking to make sense of it. Idiot.” Naia’s tone was weary, not heated. “The simple truth has been under his nose all the time.”

She turned and continued across her bridge. The waters within had darkened to match her mood, rushing in circular currents throughout. Amber’s feet squelched, leaving dimples on the water’s surface as she hurried after Naia.

Naia spoke again as they reached the other side of the bridge, Amber thankful for solid ground under her again. “Troi’s let this poison his mind too long. He despises everyone involved in the removal of his grandfather’s magic.” She shook her hands with vigor, as if scattering water. Her bridge shivered into droplets, rained into the valley below. “And most of all he hates the one who performed the procedure—Shai Daan himself.”

“So that’s why—” Amber exclaimed, then bit her lip.

“Exactly so.” Naia nodded. “Troi couldn’t stand to be a Torou under Shai Daan. He kept running to Heartwood.”

But Amber was thinking back to the beach, back to Troi’s words to the Kaidan girl. You have no idea what you’re talking about, and you don’t know what’s happened between me and Irekai.

What if the truth wasn’t as simple as Naia made it out to be? What if Troi did have other, better reasons to feel the way he did?

Suddenly, the pattern shuddered, flashed, snapped. Disoriented, Amber stumbled. A great shiver ran through the rock, as if it were suddenly coming alive. A noise rumbled in the girls’ ears.

Naia spun and faced the way they had come. “What in…?” she began.

A rock formation further down the valley cracked apart. Rocks cascaded down its sides. Out of the heaving mass of debris, a great snake-like head thrust itself upward. The sun gleamed on its bronze scales. Black and beady eyes stared blankly out into the world. The creature’s mouth opened in a soundless roar, revealing fangs.

Amber caught a whiff of something in the pattern. That scent again, bitter and green and familiar.

And this time she recognized it as it bloomed throughout the pattern, as if a spell had awakened.

That’s right! It’s dragonsbane.

Author’s Note: Sorry for the long hiatus! Fall’s the busiest time of the year for me with being back-to-school and I *always* end up thinking I can got a lot more done than I do. And, honestly, wrapping up this arc isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. I have all–okay, most–of the pieces and I know the end I’m driving towards, but it hasn’t been coming together as well. I expect that I’ll end up reworking parts of this for the e-book release. If there are any rough places you struggled to get through or understand, PLEASE let me know! Part of the rationale in releasing this story in episodes is getting the feedback!

Heartwood updates will likely be sporadic, since I also need to work on my main writing project (Book 3 of THE REFLECTED CITY). 

Sorry, being back to school is keeping me really busy right now! Hopefully, I’ll adjust to my new normal soon. My plan is to resume episodes in two weeks (September 19th). Thanks for your patience!

Amber glanced, narrow-eyed against the stinging of the wind, towards the pedestal where Heartwood’s crystal still rested in place. While Troi’s occupying Aivaan, can I get it and run? Lisette had said to use their best judgment.

“Don’t even think about it,” warned Naia. Despite the way her hair blew this way and that, she looked calm, comfortable even. “My magic may be wiped out for now, but I’m still a crescent moon in raikiji. I don’t mind taking you on any time.” Utterly self-confident, her look dared Amber to test her.

Amber subsided. She didn’t know what raikiji was, but it sounded very martial and painful to anyone on the receiving end of it. And dim though Naia’s suns might be, she could still pack a greater punch than Amber with her magic.

I need to be sneakier. Amber kept her eyes on Aivaan and Troi, both hovering mid-air, without seeing them. Instead, she focused her mage sight on the pattern as it danced and quivered under the onslaught of the wind mages’ battle. Strands clustered thick and clotted near the pedestal; Aivaan had left a nasty explosion spell ringed around the Heartwood crystal. It wasn’t a particularly sophisticated one, but a mage in a hurry might overlook it, only to receive a nasty shock that blacked out his pearl.

Amber peeled away the spell, layer by layer, smoothing out the pattern around it, dissipating its energy harmlessly into the surrounding air. She wished she could’ve turned it back onto Aivaan or funneled it to Troi, but she didn’t have the skills for it. Yet. Not with the pattern in that state of flux.

The pattern around the air ninjas broke apart, whipped around, swirled and reformed. The strands flashed blue and grey and silver; a crackle rolled across the rock. Troi darted around his brother, but Aivaan’s stormsword flashed in lightning-bright arcs. Even from her safer spot, Amber felt the pressure of those strokes, could hardly believe that Troi was able to even deflect a single one.

Troi was weakening. His air magic was no longer quick and sure, but ragged, desperate. Aivaan made a complicated move with his sword. With a shriek, winds raced towards Troi.

Naia bounded to her feet with a cry, “Don’t… Aivaan… fool!” Her words were snatched from her lips, tossed and scattered across the scoured rock. Amber hid her face against her knees as a storm of dust and grit blasted into her, her braid whipping behind her.

Pressure held her down, a greasy feeling coated her skin. The pattern threads, flapping so randomly before, now bunched together, formed currents of a grey so pale it was almost white.

Each current was blade-sharp and lightning-electric.

They arrowed into Troi. Naia gave a shriek, angry and wordless. Amber dared to look up, flinching against both magic and storm.

Troi threw himself to one side, bringing up the sword in front of him, the knife darting out in one quicksilver minnow movement. Several spells missed him, others deflected off the blade, yet another tangled upon the knife. Only a few hit, but he staggered under their attack, falling to his knees on the ground.

His suns throbbed in colors of distress, losing shape and speed. Amber could almost hear the cry of his strained, stretched magic, wordless and anguished, echoing through the pattern.

Slowly, Troi got to his feet.

His hair was disheveled, his face grimy, his clothes in disarray, his pearl as grey as Naia’s. Only his eyes, like dark holes torn in a paper mask, showed grim and determined.

Aivaan looked on, still hovering, expressionless, as his spells arced off in all directions.

Naia yelled, “What are you trying to do—kill him? You’re going too far, Aivaan!”

“Stay. Out. Of this, Naia!” Troi yelled back, voice hoarse. For a moment, pain twisted his features, then he took a hold of himself. He threw his head up and back in an arrogant gesture too familiar to Amber, and faced his brother.

It was obviously familiar to Aivaan as well. Something glinted deep in his eyes. His suns twisted, became blurs. Once again the pattern shifted, ominous.

Amber started to scramble up. “Troi, watch out…!”

Howling, the cyclone of air around Aivaan’s sword blasted towards Troi. Amber saw him start to get his weapons up, saw him begin a defensive spell, then a rush of dark air enveloped the Heartwood mage. Winds buffeted Amber from behind, screaming in glee as they encircled Troi. Amber closed her eyes, her ears full of roaring, her face burning with cold, her body battered. Her mist cloak twisted around her, its meager spells flaring erratically, trying to protect her.

I don’t think I can hold on much longer.

And then it stopped.

The winds dropped. The lash of air against her body disappeared. The roaring in her ears became a rushing silence.

Amber, braced against something that was no longer there, stumbled and nearly fell.

She opened her eyes to a bright world, washed clean in the morning light. The sky was a delicate robin’s egg blue, cloudless save for a few wispy feathers of white.

Amber gaped, then realized that a grumble still tickled the edge of her hearing and vibrations still thrummed through her body.

Where Troi had stood was now a tight-packed dome of air, racing around and around in a tight, cutting circle. Amber couldn’t make out Troi at all within the darkness of debris and rushing wind that trapped him. With a creeping sense of failure, she realized that she couldn’t undo the spell at all—looping, self-sustaining, it had no ends to grab hold of, and reaching into those winds with her bare senses would only cut her into ribbons. She didn’t think even Troi could manipulate those speeding winds.

Naia, her hair wind-blown, glared at Troi’s brother. “Aivaan,” she began.

“I will let him out when we’ve won,” said Aivaan, sheathing his sword. His expressionless gaze slid over Amber. “Take care of her.” And with that, he whisked a swirl of air around himself, lifted off, and headed for the destination rock.

Naia put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes at his retreating figure. “Irekai men,” she commented to Amber, “they’re all the same. I feel sorry for their womenfolk.”

The only person Amber was feeling sorry for right now was herself. She eyed the pedestal, the crystal so close. Could she turn herself invisible, slip over to it, grab it and get away? In open daylight with Naia focused on stopping her?

I have to try, at least. For better or worse, I’m a Heartwood mage now.

Naia eyed her thoughtfully. “You’re planning something, Ravin girl. I’m sure you’re very nice and all, but I have to stop you. And tickling isn’t going to work this time!” Her suns, Amber noticed gloomily, had brightened.

Blasted sun mages and their quick recovery! Did Naia just drink in a rejuvenating lungful or two of air to get her magic powers back up?

Let’s try an illusion, then trap her hands. Even as Amber activated the spell on her mist cloak, she knew it was a very, very long shot.

Amber shifted slightly sideways, sliding between pattern threads. The bright morning air dimmed as she sank deeper into the pattern, feeling that blur in her soul as her illusion spell multiplied copies of herself. Then she moved, and the ghosts moved with her, flying off in different directions, pale and insubstantial in the hard, gold glint of sunlight.

“Interesting.” Naia cocked her head, gaze flickering from one darting copy to another. “But I still see you.” Magic swelled around the Kaidan girl’s hand. Amber threw something sticky and panicked at her, but it was washed away by Naia’s power.

Caught halfway to the crystal, Amber thought, Sorry, guys. I did my best, but it should’ve been someone else with you!

A shudder ran through the pattern. There was a crack, like the breaking of an egg. Naia whipped around in the direction of the disturbance, her eyes widening, her hands raised to ward off, a spell sluggishly taking shape around them.

Too late. Wind slammed into the girl, lifted her up, threw her down like a rag doll. Amber froze, appalled, but of course, Naia was a sun mage. She said a small, “Ow,” sat up, and looked reproachfully at Troi. Her pearl was jet-black and the pattern jangled around it so hard, Amber didn’t need mage senses to make out what it was saying.

Naia had just been knocked out of the tournament.

Troi stood in the open, breathing hard, looking royally vexed. Myriad cuts covered his face and hands, her shirt was shredded and his pants frayed at the hems. He held his sword and knife with the tips pointed down, but Amber didn’t doubt he’d be able to bring them up in a flash.

“I am,” he said through gritted teeth to Naia, “so sick of your stubbornness.”

Amber blinked at this unexpected response. So did Naia.

“What were you doing there, weakly grabbing at air currents, when there’s a whole lot of water down below in this valley?” Troi made a sharp, stabbing gesture with the knife in the direction of “down below.”

Naia said meekly, “I’m a wind mage.”

“Who always had an affinity with water!” Troi snarled. “You wouldn’t be scurrying around, doing Aivaan’s bidding if you’d just play to your own strengths for once. And by that, I don’t mean your incessant talking!”

With that, Troi swept towards the pedestal—his suns were surprisingly recovered—and grabbed the crystal off it.

You’re welcome, Amber thought in a small, internal voice. Now was not the time to explain about the defused spell to an enraged Troi. He was holding it in, but his eyes were dark with anger, his nostrils flared, white around his mouth. Every movement was savage with suppressed violence.

A flash of light caught Amber’s attention. Tilting her head up, she squinted as a figure, dark at its core but haloed with brightness, wheeled across the sky, landed atop a neighboring rock. Another figure, this one more like a haze of smoke, darted after it, came to a hovering stop above the formation.

Lisette and Doua.

Troi threw a swift glance at the tableau. “I’m going after Aivaan. Go help her, Amber!”

Before Amber could even form a response, a curl of air snatched her up and practically threw her across the space. Amber caught a glimpse of a shimmering expanse of water below, then rock loomed up, too sudden, too hard, too close to the edge. She fell, skinning knees and palms.

Almost instantly, the hairs on the back of her neck raised. A murderous intent filled the pattern, a soft, slow swell of it that made it hard to breathe, as if someone held her face into a pillow. Lisette, still defiant but damaged, was collapsed on the ground in a heap of shining metal, one wing bent at a bad angle. Above her, Doua, her face shadowed by her hat, gathered a spell in her hands, a delicate but dangerously-edged blade.

Aivaan had power, but Doua’s swiftness and control were extraordinary. The pattern itself seemed to open the way for her.

Help her, he said, Amber thought despairingly, her body already moving as Doua unleashed her air-crafted weapons. This is the only thing I can think of!

She hurled herself in front of Lisette, throwing her arms around the other girl, covering them both with the mist cloak.

Doua’s spell hit.

Amber’s mist cloak caught the worst of it. The spells within it disintegrated in a flash, the weave of it thrummed but held. A hundred stabbing points slammed into Amber’s back, driving her into Lisette with a pained gasp. It felt as if thousands of needles of cold air jammed down her lungs and arrowed into her arteries. Suddenly without breath, Amber couldn’t cry out at all, only shudder and squirm.

The agony was intense, but brief.

By the time her breath returned, the pain was fading to an afterimage. It still hurt, lying deep in her quivering muscles, but Amber found she could bear it.

A jangling at the edge of her hearing signaled that she, too, was out of the tournament.

Amber couldn’t bring herself to mind too much.

Lisette grabbed Amber’s shoulders and shook her. “Amber. Amber! Are you all right?”

“Careful… head!” gasped Amber. Her neck was stiff and the movement made her head bobble in an alarming way, as if it would snap off any moment.

Lisette dropped her hands, her blue eyes dark with emotion, her black hair falling in sticky strands around her face. There were tears in her voice as she said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did.” Amber’s brows snapped together. She glared at the other girl. “I’m not a combat mage—you are. Troi got beaten up by his own brother, but he’s still pushing through. You do the same, Lisette!”

The wild, hurt look in Lisette’s eyes vanished. A ghost of a smile flickered across her face. “I will.” Something whitish gleamed as she took it out of her pocket—the crystal. “I have it, at least.”

“Then go win.”

The two girls’ eyes met in a rare moment of unified purpose. Then both looked up at Doua, still and straight in the air. Not a single stray current from the winds that cradled her reached Amber and Lisette.

No emotion showed on the bottom crescent of her face. Her arms were folded, hands tucked into her sleeve. Amber couldn’t quite tell, but she thought the Kaidan girl had depleted much of her magic in that one attack. Otherwise, she and Lisette would probably have been sliced up by now.

Wait a minute! Did she just try to seriously maim—even kill—us? Amber’s mouth dropped open as she replayed the last few minutes.

“You may try all you wish,” said Doua, precise as ever, “but I will not let you off this rock.”

Lisette struggled to her feet, her shining wings bent and dented behind her. “Amber, move away and close your eyes.”

Amber obeyed, backing off, keeping a wary eye on the edge of the formation to her right.

Lisette closed her eyes briefly, took a deep breath. Her suns came alive, her damaged wings lifted. Light danced over the metal, striking gleams of warm gold and bronze. Both wings straightened, one swept long and whole. The other remained slightly crooked, whimpering a small protest as Lisette’s magic caressed it.

“Can you fly?” Doua went on in her monotone. “I think not.”

Lisette said nothing, her fierce concentration turned inwards. A glow surrounded her, growing ever more intense. Amber screwed her eyes closed, turned her head away.

“Do not think…” Doua began.

And then came the flare.

The inside of Amber’s eyelids turned reddish, warmth pressed into her cheeks. Her eyes stung with tears. She heard Doua gave a small, wordless cry, and then the shivering clash of Lisette’s wings as she leapt into the air.

Amber counted three heartbeats, then opened her watering eyes. The morning swam hazily around her, and for a moment, she was so light-headed and off-balance, she thought she might fall over.

Lisette was gone, swooping in a blaze of light between two taller rocks, vanishing behind them. The sight of her, so free and bright and glad, made Amber whoop and laugh.

Nearby Doua tumbled through the air, almost crashing. At the last moment, she pulled up, her feet nearly skimming the ground. She arrowed past Amber in a surge of air, so close that Amber could’ve reached out and touched her sleeve.

In that instant, Doua turned her head, locked gazes with Amber. Her dark eyes were cold and pitiless, like a shark’s. And then she was whipping past, and the winds trailing behind her hooked around Amber’s knees. Amber stumbled and one heel found crumbling rock, the other empty air.

She teetered on the edge, thinking, This is why I put spells in my mist cloak.

And then remembered, They’re all gone now.

A wind nudged her, in just the right place.

Or the wrong one.

Amber fell.

Author’s Note: Okay, I just had a too-long panicked moment where I thought I had lost most of this episode! Turns out I had opened my backup copy instead of the one I worked on this evening. Whew! The thought of rewriting about 2700 words was a shocker, especially after I hit my stride at the coffee shop. I could tell I was getting into the groove, because I almost put my laptop on my knees and tried to swivel around in a (nonexistent) rolling chair, which is what I do at home in my study when I get into the zone. Oops! Can’t really do that in public.

One question I’ve been meaning to ask (before I go backup my work): Who is your favorite character in Heartwood so far? Email me back or reply in the comments and let me know!