Page 121 of An Archer's Redemption

He poked my arm with a bony finger.

“You scream Mage walking around in that robe anyway,” I said. “My riding leathers aren’t as highbrow as most of these shoppers, but they’re better than a Constable’s uniform or your robe for remaining undetected.”

Atikus grunted. “Just be careful. Try not to use any magic while you’re in there. She might be able to sense it. I know it makes the hairs on my arms stand up whenever you do anything powerful.”

I nodded, then turned, wove my way through the passing throng, and approached the shop.

Bells tinkled merrily as I entered.

The door clicked shut behind me.

Chapter 53

Irina

Two hours earlier (island time)

In a moment of sheer terror, as the Well began to blacken, its cavern darkened, and the mountain shook with anger, I closed my eyes and focused on the safety of home. The magic coursing through me responded, understanding my need, and I Traveled instantly. I was bewildered when I appeared in the storeroom of a candle shop. Several sticks dangling from lines strung across the ceiling clattered and smacked me in the head as I fought to gather my bearings.

A stream of questions flowed through my mind.

I was thinking ofhomewhen I Traveled; but that home, where I was born and raised by loving parents, and where those same parents were murdered, couldn’t still stand. That home had not existed for ten centuries.

So where had magic delivered me?

The room spun, and nausea threatened from the depths of my stomach.

I forced myself to calm.

There was no mountain about to crash down on me, so this was an improvement. I needed time to think and sort everything out.

I started by surveying the musty room.

A sliver of light trickled in from the partially covered window.

I ran a hand across the candles that assaulted me when I first arrived. The ancient, weathered look of the back of my own hand gave me a moment’s pause. I used to be so young and beautiful. Now, I wore the skin of an aged woman who would have passed through Death’s Door years ago had she not been protected by her island’s magic.

I longed for a day when men would turn as I entered a room, would stumble over themselves if I glanced their way, a day when I was wanted and desired. I closed my eyes and recalled my silky-smooth skin and lustrous black hair, my brilliant green eyes.

Then I sighed.

I had lost so much from my imprisonment.

When my attention returned to the candles above, and my fingers continued their journey, I was astonished for the second time in an hour.

Smooth, supple skin replaced the wrinkles.

My hand flew to my face, and I felt the same smoothness of youth I saw on my hands.

Had my magic answered my call again?

How was this . . . ?

On a whim, I held my palm before me and called moisture from the air, forming a swirling, wobbling ball of water. I gasped, and the ball fell apart, spilling on the dusty wooden floor.

That is not one of my Gifts. I have never been able to call or manipulate water.

My head spun at the implications.

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