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  As expected, darkness covered the upper rooms. I lit a

  couple more lanterns while Devlen crouched next to the

  hearth and stacked kindling. His quick and sure movements

  reminded me of his skills with a sword. A chill zipped along

  my skin and I rubbed my arms. Still damp from my workout,

  my practice tunic smelled rank.

  I hurried to the washroom to change and rinse off as much

  sweat as possible with a sponge and small bowl of water. At

  least my extra tunic and dark brown pants were clean and

  dry.

  By the time I returned, Devlen’s fire blazed on top of a bed

  of coals and he had transferred my stew to an iron pot. He

  sat close to the f lames. The bright light illuminated his sharp features and the scar on his neck. He wore a plain white shirt

  half tucked into black pants. I wondered if he’d borrowed

  them from one of the correctional officers.

  I perched on the edge of the hearth, joining him.

  “I miss having a fire at night,” he said.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “It reminds me of my childhood in the plains. At night,

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  the elders would gather around the fire and tell stories. It was the best part of the day.”

  “Were they Story Weavers?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you have a large family?”

  “No. My mother died in childbirth and my father was

  always busy. He was one of the leaders of the clan. He only

  became interested in me when I developed magic, which just

  fueled my desire to irritate him as much as possible.” Devlen

  added another log. “Things might have been different if I had

  a big family like yours.”

  Remembering my mother’s anger, I said, “I wouldn’t be so

  sure. Upsetting family members is pretty standard.” I watched

  the f lames lick at the new log as if deciding to consume it or not. “Do you think of the plains as home?”

  “No. What about you? Where’s home?”

  “It used to be my parents’ house in Booruby.”

  “Used to be? What about now?”

  “I don’t know. No place really feels right.”

  “Perhaps you should fire up one of those kilns down-

  stairs.”

  Surprised, I met his gaze. “I’m only here for tonight. Didn’t

  Nic tell you?”

  “No. He said you had returned, but nothing else. I was just

  happy you came back.” He grabbed a poker and fished out a

  few coals. They glowed. He set the pot on top of them to heat

  the stew. “Was your mission a success?”

  I should have kept the distance between us. But as I had told

  Kade, I needed him. And Yelena had even suggested I talk

  to him. So I did. “It was a disaster.” Once the words started

  to f low, everything poured forth. My immunity, Reema and

  Teegan, the detectors…everything.

  Finally, from deep down where I had shoved it, a horrible

  admission bubbled to the surface. “Despite all that, I’d give

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  anything to get my magic back. I’d do anything. Does that

  mean I’m addicted to magic?”

  Devlen had listened without uttering a word. He spread his

  arms, inviting me close.

  The knots already twisting in my stomach tugged harder.

  I remained in place. “I’m confused about that, too.”

  He tried to cover his disappointment by ladling the stew

  into a bowl and handing it to me.

  “I

  can’t—”

  “Eat something. You’ll feel better,” he said.

  “You sound like my mother before I landed on her bad

  side.”

  “I’m sure her ire is temporary.”

  I considered. “But how many times can you upset someone

  and still return to normal? Isn’t there a point when the person gives up on you?”

  “It would depend on the person. I think in the case of

  mothers, you’d have to do more than be late for your sister’s

  wedding.”

  What about with Kade? I filled my mouth with stew to

  keep from asking Devlen that question. The warm meat tasted

  divine, and I attacked the rest.

  “Feel better?” he asked when I finished.

  “I’m not hungry anymore.”

  “One problem solved.” He moved to a more comfortable

  position on the couch.

  “And only three hundred more to go.” I joked, but it was

  half hearted.

  Devlen smiled. “One at a time.”

  Not good enough. I wanted to snap my fingers and be done

  with the decisions and the problems.

  “Opal, come here.” He pointed to the cushion next to him.

  “To talk,” he added, sensing my reluctance.

  I sat, but couldn’t relax. When I stood to pace, Devlen

  grabbed my wrist and pulled me back, tucking me under his

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  arm. For a moment I stiffened. Then I leaned against him,

  resting my head on his shoulder.

  “There’re no easy answers,” he said. “The only thing I can

  assure you of, is you are not addicted to magic. We both know there’re many things you wouldn’t do to get your magic back.

  Wishes and desires don’t mean an addiction. I know.”

  “How about an obsession?”

  “No. Otherwise you wouldn’t have gone to the Citadel to

  help Teegan. You would have stayed with Valek to hunt for

  your blood.”

  “But—”

  He put his fingers on my lips. “Stop second-guessing your-

  self. Do what you need to do. Don’t apologize. When the

  time comes, you’ll know what is important and what isn’t.”

  He dropped his hand.

  “I thought you said there weren’t any easy answers.”

  “I didn’t say it would be easy. Sometimes being true to

  yourself is the hardest thing to do.”

  I straightened and met his gaze. “That sounded like a Story

  Weaver platitude.”

  “Platitude number five. My favorite,” he teased.

  I punched him. It was a light blow, but he winced. Before he

  could stop me, I pulled his shirt up, revealing a six-inch wound on his torso. It was stitched closed with black thread.

  “Didn’t you go to the healer?” I asked.

  “There aren’t any healers in prison.”

  “Devlen, stopping riots and becoming a target isn’t neces-

  sary. You’ve proven your commitment.”

  “I did it for me.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  He tugged his shirt back down. “My actions earned me

  three hours with you here and not in a sterile visiting room.

  If I accumulate enough points, I could be released early. So I

  am being selfish.”

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  Released early? The words hit me hard. I sprang to my feet.

  This time he didn’t pull me back. I paced.

  “What would you do?” I asked.

  “Do you want the truth? Or for me to tell you something

  that wouldn’t scare you?”

  I halted. “What does that mean?”

  “Right now, I think the truth would scare you away.”

  Unable to remain still, I carried the pot and stew bowl to

  the kitchen. Reema had worried about t
he same thing. But,

  damn it, I wasn’t easy to scare anymore. And I was tired of

  avoiding uncomfortable situations.

  I returned to the living area. “Tell me.”

  He kept his face neutral, but his gaze burned with intensity.

  “There’s only one thing I wish to do when I’m released. Be

  with you.”

  Proud I didn’t panic, I asked, “What if I recover my magic

  and am sent on missions for the Council?”

  “I’ll provide backup.”

  “What if I decide to join Valek’s corp?”

  “I’ll sign up.”

  “What if I decide to stay in Fulgor and make glass?”

  “Just tell me if you need a slug gathered on a pontil iron or

  a blowpipe.”

  “What if I decide to stay with Kade on the coast?”

  He didn’t f linch. “I’ll respect your decision.”

  “And?”

  “I’d find a job here. I do enjoy helping others, and maybe

  I can put my Story Weaver skills to use. Perhaps Nic’s captain

  would hire me.”

  “He’d be an idiot not to.” I wondered if I would be an idiot

  to walk away from someone who would be content being with

  me no matter what. But I didn’t quite understand why. “I get

  that you want to make amends. But don’t you want a life of

  your own?”

  “I already did the life of my own and I did horrible, terrible

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  things. As I said before, you inspire me to be a better person.

  I fell in love with you while I was disguised as Ulrick. Even

  through the haze of addiction, I saw your willingness to sacri-

  fice for others. And even with your search for your blood you

  still gave up precious time to help Councilor Moon, Reema

  and Teegan. Any one of those delays may have cost you the

  return of your magic. Do you regret doing them?”

  “No.”

  “That’s why I want to be with you. And perhaps, someday I

  will deserve your kindness. And eventually I might even earn

  your love.” Unable to wait for my reaction, he asked, “Have

  I scared you away?”

  “It would be easier if you did.” I joined him on the couch,

  and tucked my feet up under me. “I do admire your calm

  acceptance of your life and how you know exactly what you

  want.”

  He wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “You will, too,

  Opal. Give it time.”

  “I need to find my blood.”

  “And that will solve all your problems?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “Yes. But before you go all Story Weaver on me, it also

  isn’t an excuse to avoid making decisions.”

  “Why

  not?”

  “Because once I either reclaim my blood or I know it’s lost

  forever, then I’ll know who I am.”

  “I see.” His tone implied otherwise.

  “I’ll either be Opal Cowan, the glass magician, or Opal

  Cowan, the antimagician.”

  “Antimagician?”

  “You know…” I gestured. “Immune to magic. Yelena oc-

  casionally uses it to describe Valek.”

  “Interesting. But why can’t you be Opal Cowan without a

  descriptor?”

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  I closed my eyes for a moment, then tried to explain. “A

  person’s actions define who they are. It doesn’t matter what

  he says, or what he wishes he could do. It all comes down

  to…”

  “What she sacrifices,” he said.

  “I miss it, Devlen. More than Kade, more than…anything. I

  miss the way my glass pieces sang to me. The magic connected

  me to the world. I feel cut off. Isolated.” All my energy f led. I had worked hard to suppress those feelings. To not admit it to

  myself, let alone another. I didn’t want to dwell on the grief, but to focus on fixing it because there was only one cure.

  “Your anger is gone. And you’ve filled the emptiness.”

  I pulled away. “Haven’t you been listening? I haven’t. It’s

  what I’m trying to do.”

  “I’ve been paying attention. You haven’t. But you will.”

  “Another Story Weaver inanity. You have it easier.”

  He shook his head. “Waiting is never easy.”

  After five days on the road, I arrived in Ognap alone.

  Nestled in the foothills of the Emerald Mountains, Ognap

  buzzed with activity. The town’s main income centered on

  the gemstones mined from the mountains. Factories charged

  with transforming the raw uncut stones into sparkling gems

  lined the busy streets. Well-protected caravans of loose stones headed west toward the Jewelrose Clan where they would be

  set into various types of jewelry and goods.

  Nic and Eve planned to enter town this evening and rent

  a room at the Tourmaline Inn. Finding Vasko Cloud Mist’s

  extensive compound proved harder than I had expected. My

  inquiries were met with suspicion. Finally a servant employed

  by Vasko recognized my name and led me to the gate. Hidden

  by the rolling terrain east of the city, Vasko’s manor house had been built into the side of the Emerald Mountains. The tall

  spires overlooked a valley filled with buildings.

  Vasko trusted no one with his rubies. According to the

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  locals, the mine entrance was in the basement of his house and

  all the stones were sorted, sized and cut on-site before being

  sold.

  As I waited at the gate, I noted the thick wall that sur-

  rounded the compound on all sides. The location and ar-

  rangement of the buildings suggested someone took care with

  their placement. An army would have trouble invading Vasko’s

  home. I guessed that was the point.

  Pazia arrived. Genuine welcome shone on her face as she

  embraced me. Even though she was a few inches shorter than

  me, Pazia gave the impression of being taller. Her long hair had been pulled up and braided. The thick loop of hair resembled

  a crown on her head. Add in the way the guards deferred to

  her, she oozed royalty.

  Pazia asked about my trip as she escorted me through her

  family’s grounds. The well-groomed walkways f lowed past

  ornate gardens. Flowers burst from baskets and workers tended

  to the landscape. Nothing within sight suggested a mining

  operation.

  “How are you really doing, Opal?” she asked, raising one thin eyebrow.

  “I’m fine,” I assured her.

  “Don’t lie to me. It’s quite an adjustment.”

  And she was the only other person besides Devlen who

  had firsthand knowledge of just how much of an adjustment.

  I shrugged. “I’m still getting used to the idea.”

  “I was stunned when we heard the news of your sacrifice.

  My father…”

  Having no desire to hear about Vasko’s reaction, I stopped

  listening until she brought the topic to the discovery of the

  messengers.

  She practically bounced. “It’s exciting, isn’t it?”

  I decided to be honest. “It’s a little hard to believe.”

  “I know. We ruined that diamond we tried in the glass

  before, remember? But black dia
monds are incredible!”

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  Her enthusiasm seemed genuine. “How did you know what

  they were?” I asked.

  “We didn’t at first. Our gemstone expert thought they were

  a hard black coal. But after multiple tests, the results matched diamonds in everything but color.”

  “Where did you find them?”

  “Deep. That’s all I know. Father is very secretive. The

  miners still think the black diamonds are coal.”

  How convenient. “It’s bound to get out,” I said.

  “Eventually,” she agreed.

  Pazia didn’t appear upset by this. Either she didn’t think it

  through, or she wasn’t as greedy as her father. Because if the

  black diamonds were real, then every Emerald Mountains

  mine owner would be searching for their own vein. I tried

  another approach. “How did you decide to try one for the

  messengers?”

  She glanced around. The footpath remained empty of work-

  ers. “Father’s still angry at me for losing my magic.” She held up a hand to me. “Don’t start. He’s been experimenting with

  different legal ideas to recover my powers. As part of his…

  quest, he wanted to see if the black diamonds could hold magic

  like the regular diamonds. And he found out they were better.

  The black ones can hold twice as much magic, but using it

  was…painful.”

  “How

  so?”

  She showed me her hands. Burn scars crisscrossed her palms

  and covered her fingertips. Ouch. Blood wouldn’t sear her

  skin. Perhaps they had discovered real diamonds. I viewed

  that possibility with mixed emotions. It meant I hadn’t found

  my blood at all, but it also implied my blood could still be in its original container.

  “I tried gloves, but I couldn’t control the power,” Pazia said.

  “Then I remembered our experiment with the glass.”

  “I’m surprised your father let you use the black diamonds.

  Alone they’re worth…”

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  “More gold than I can carry. And Father would have had

  heart failure if he knew I planned to encase one of his blacks

  in glass, so I didn’t tell him until after. It worked better than I had dreamed.”

  “What type of glass did you use?”

  “I’ll show you. My workshop is over here.”

  The sweet scent of burning white coal reached me before I

  spotted the smoke curling from the chimney. Mounds of dirt

  and construction litter surrounded Pazia’s small glass factory.

  Unexpected, but not surprising, guards stood beside the en-