Wandfasted
Magic, romance and adventure collide in Wandfasted, the irresistible ebook prequel to The Black Witch by Laurie Forest.When they painted "Heretics" on our barn and set fire to it, I thought that was the worst it could get.Until they sent the dragons.But they didn't count on us having dragons of our own. And they certainly didn't count on Her. Our Great Mage. The Bringer of Fire. The Storm of Death. The Crow Sorceress. Our Deliverance.The Black Witch.
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Magic, romance and adventure collide in Wandfasted, the irresistible ebook prequel to The Black Witch by Laurie Forest
When they painted Heretics on our barn and set fire to it, I thought that was the worst it could get.
Until they sent the dragons.
But they didnât count on us having dragons of our own. And they certainly didnât count on Her. Our Great Mage. The Bringer of Fire. The Storm of Death. The Crow Sorceress. Our Deliverance.
The Black Witch.
PRAISE FOR THE BLACK WITCH
âI absolutely loved The Black Witch... Maximum suspense, unusual magicâa whole new, thrilling approach to fantasy!â âTamora Pierce, #1 New York Times bestselling author
âThe Black Witch is a refreshing, powerful young adult fantasy. This strong debut offers an uncompromising glimpse of world-altering politics amplified by a magical setting in which prejudice and discrimination cut both ways.â âRobin Hobb, New York Times bestselling author
âI absolutely devoured The Black Witchâa power-packed read that elegantly tackles a very tough, relevant subject in a fantasy setting, perfect for new and old readers of the genre!â âLindsay Cummings, #1 New York Times bestselling author
Wandfasted
Laurie Forest
For Diane Dexterâ
tireless youth advocate, talented writer and reader, devoted mother and my good friend.
Contents
Iâve gotten used to the names they call us.
Crows. Roaches. Hedgewitches.
I no longer cry when Iâm shoved in the market or spat on in the streets. I endure their mocking, hateful glares and the signs of protection they make against me to ward off my perceived evil.
I am Gardnerian.
As such, Iâm barely tolerated here, stranded in a sea of Kelts, allowed to exist only because my aptitude for healing brews is considered useful in this tiny, remote village.
It would be easier, perhaps, if my appearance didnât set me apart so much. My forest-green eyes and dark hair might seem unremarkable, but the black tunic and long skirt I wear, paired with a silver Erthia orb necklace, mark me as one of the First Children. And the way my skin shimmers a faint emerald in the darkâperhaps the most undeniable sign of allâmakes it impossible for me to hide what I am.
A Gardnerian Mage.
Hated by all but my own people.
When they painted Heretics on our barn and set fire to it, I thought that was the worst it could get.
Until they sent the dragons.
But they didnât count on us having dragons of our own. And they certainly didnât count on Her.
Our Great Mage. The Bringer of Fire. The Storm of Death. The Crow Sorceress.
Our Deliverance.
The Black Witch.
âWeâre not doing business with Crows,â Mistress Darrow states. âNot anymore.â
She stands with one fist propped on a broad hip, her apple-cheeked face twisted up into a triumphant sneer, strands of her blond hair escaping her crimson kerchief. The flag of Keltania is pinned above her ample bosomâan iron-black X on a rectangle of bloodred linen.
Her husband, Merchant Darrow, seems embarrassed, his own Keltanian flag haphazardly pinned up near his shoulder. He looks down at the wooden counter in front of him, toying with the smooth abacus and deliberately avoiding my gaze.
Panic rears inside me. My grip tightens on the apothecary crate Iâve set down before them, tidy medicine bottles lined up in the segmented box. I think of the money we need for our journey east to Verpacia. Of the red tinge to the leaves, winter close on our heels. My elderly grandfather, my young brother.
Doveshire has become too dangerous for Gardnerians. It took ages for my brother, Wren, and me to convince our stubborn grandfather that we needed to leave, but now, everything is ready for our departureâthe wagon is packed, the horses already hitched, the house closed up.
All we need is the money for these medicines Iâve spent weeks brewing. The money weâve been counting on to buy suppliesâsupplies weâll need to survive.
I straighten my shoulders, trying not to shrink under Mistress Darrowâs glare. âI donât understand. The last time I came in, you were happy to buy my medicines.â
She blows out a disgusted breath. âDark witches with dark magic, thatâs what your lot is. First you twist the faith that belongs to us. Then you use your dark magic to steal a nice big chunk of our land.â She gives her chin a defiant lift, her smile full of venom. âWell, the tide is turning. Your magicâs faded.â
