Page 118 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

Two wolves.

Teeth bared, eyes like liquid silver, bodies coiled, ready to strike.

Klara lifted her hands, fingers twitching as she summoned the only magic she ever allowed herself to use. Green smoke curled around her fingertips, dark and curling like serpents in the dry morning air.

The first wolf lunged.

Klara twisted her fingers, sending a blast of magic straight into the beast’s chest. The force sent it flying, skidding across the dirt before it rolled to a halt. The second wolf snarled, hackles raised, the ground beneath its paws trembling from its barely restrained fury.

It lunged next, and Klara did not hesitate. Another tendril of green light shot forth, freezing its paws to the earth in thick, glistening ice.

She barely had time to turn before the first wolf was already back on its feet, charging again. She prepared another strike—her power flaring, ready to release. But the frozen wolf shattered its binds with a powerful wrench, breaking free from the ice.

Both wolves leapt as one.

Klara barely had time to scream before their weight crushed her to the earth. She fought, her magic searing through the air, rising in a furious crescendo.

A whistle cut through it all.

The wolves stopped.

They withdrew immediately, backing away from her, though their eyes remained sharp, their bodies tense, waiting for another command.

A hand gripped the front of her dress, yanking her upright into a sitting position. The dust around her settled. Wren Wynter and Mal Blackburn stood over her, framed by the rising sun.

Klara cursed under her breath. She had been so close. For a fleeting second, she had forgotten that she was still disguised as Klara. Perhaps—perhaps—she could still spin this into something useful. Had they seen her use magic? She had been hidden in the gardens when the wolves attacked. Had they only seen the aftermath? Had the gods been merciful for once?

‘I think ya have some explaining to do, Klara.’ Wren grinned down at her, arms crossed.

Klara forced herself to tremble, widening her eyes in feigned terror, hoping her breathless state might work to her advantage.

‘Stop pretending,’ Mal said. ‘We have a few questions.’

Klara let her lips part, her brows knitting together in perfect confusion. ‘I don’t understand. I was going into the city to find some—’

Something hard landed on her stomach with a softthump.

She looked down.

The black notebook.

Her stomach twisted.

Outwardly, she gasped, eyes darting between them in well-practiced innocence. Inwardly, she cursed herself. If they figured out how to break the glamour—if they found a way toreadwhat was inside.

‘Why do ya have a notebook that is glamoured?’ Wrenasked.

Klara blinked up at her, schooling her expression into one of utter ignorance. ‘Glamoured? What does that mean?’

‘Do not play stupid,’ Mal hissed, crouching beside her, gripping the notebook tightly. ‘We know Vera is a witch. Strange how my first maid turned out to be a witch and then vanished, to be replaced by a second one that has in her possession a book that reeks of magic.’

Klara’s mind raced.

They hadn’t seen her use magic.

They hadn’t.

Suppressing a smirk, she forced herself to shrink back, stammering out, ‘I—I found it. Vera dropped it.’

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