Mark of Four

By Tamara Shoemaker

Seventeen-year-old Alayne Worth is an Elemental Water-Wielder. All she wants is to master her talent and live a normal life, but the sudden escape of a feared criminal leaves her family reeling and threatens to keep her from achieving her dreams, especially when the criminal's reach pushes too close to home.

Secret pasts, strange powers, and tense relationships weave a tangled net around her. As she leaves home to cultivate her skills at an Elemental training center, she clashes with a disturbing reality: both good and evil forces covet Alayne's unusual gifts, and each side is willing to do almost anything to obtain them.

As Alayne confronts the battle for the power she possesses, she must discover the truth of who she is.

Air-Earth-Water-Fire

Four Elements

Four Powers

Four Paths

MARK OF FOUR

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tamara Shoemaker
• Release date: Sep 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370161447

Tamara Shoemaker

Tamara Shoemaker authored the Amazon best-selling Shadows in the Nursery Christian mystery series and Soul Survivor, another Christian mystery. Her fantasy books include the Heart of a Dragon trilogy: Kindle the Flame, Embrace the Fire, and Unleash the Inferno, as well her Guardian of the Vale trilogy: Mark of Four, Shadows of Uprising, and Guardian of the Vale. In her spare time, she freelances as an editor for other works of fiction, chases three children hither and yon, and tries hard to ignore the brownie mixes that inevitably show up in her cabinets.

Book preview

Chapter 1

four elements

The deadliest Shadow -Caster in recent history, Simeon Malachi, escaped just after Alayne decided she wanted an apple, and her appetite died a dismal death. The news report trampled Alayne’s lungs with the force of a stampede of elephants.

Alayne slipped her hand around her mother’s cold one. A sheen of perspiration dotted Wynn Worth’s forehead, and her face turned the same pale shade as cold oatmeal. Unease twisted Alayne’s stomach as she shifted her gaze from her mother to her father, and then to the holographic image of Kathy Frontenleid, news reporter for Continental Media.

The furniture hazed beneath the light from the media imaging unit, or MIU, and the projected High Court steps behind Kathy Frontenleid striped the blue living room carpet as she spoke into her microphone. A crowded square roiled behind her, and muted shouts and screams filtered between her words.

Tuesday morning, riots broke out in the High Court in response to the breaking news that the Shadow-Casters, headed by the notorious Simeon Malachi, have escaped and a High Court Justice has been killed. A pall of fear has spread over the city, fear that we have not seen since the Shadow-Caster rebellion four years ago, when Malachi and his followers were originally apprehended. I repeat, Simeon Malachi and his Casters are now at large. Only moments ago, Leader Blankenship received a message from the Shadow-Casters, stating that their intention is to recover the legendary Vale and seize power in the Capital.

Wynn’s grip squeezed the blood from Alayne’s fingers. Even though the reporter continued to speak, heavy silence smothered the three occupants of the room. Alayne’s unease contorted into a sharp, palpable stitch in her side—something that always happened when she was frightened.

Mom, are you all right? Alayne had seen snow with more color.

Wynn fastened her gaze on her husband. The Vale. Wynn licked her bloodless lips. Bryan, did you—

I did. Alayne’s father clasped his hands in front of him, rubbing calloused thumbs together.

The—Vale? Alayne had heard the term before in loose conversation at Basic School. Isn’t that the thing that’s supposed to control all four elements? Not just one?

Neither of her parents answered. Their attention was back on the MIU that now showed blurry security footage of a black-robed Justice escaping the thick, white pillars of the High Court and hurtling down the marble stairs. On the top tier beside a column, the unfocused image of another man appeared, dark hair and beard nearly obscuring his face. He stopped as the Justice tripped on the bottom step, rolled, twitched convulsively, and a moment later, deflated, every last ounce of moisture sucked from his body.

Is that Malachi on the top step? Alayne asked. She freed her hand from her mother’s and stepped toward the image, straining to see the man’s face clearly.

I’m sure it was. Bryan’s voice was thick. His gaze hadn’t moved from Wynn.

Surely, there would have been—

Shh, I want to hear, Wynn snapped.

Alayne swallowed the rest of her sentence and returned to the couch. Kathy Frontenleid leveled her gaze at the camera. In that brief clip of security footage, you saw Simeon Malachi, leader of the Shadow-Casters, Cast and kill Justice Aaron Henry on the steps of the High Court. Continental Media has confirmed that no Justices are Shadow-Casted at this time, though the fear remains that the Casters will return. I’m Kathy Frontenleid for Continental Media. Back to you, Stan.

A hologram of Stanwick Jones sitting at his desk appeared in front of the living room recliner. Thank you, Kathy. I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say stay safe out there. He swiped information through the air in front of him. The Continental Guard asks that if you have any information regarding an escaped Shadow-Caster, or any information concerning the object of the Casters’ search, the Vale, that you contact them at the tipline below. Numbers scrolled across the worn carpet.

Alayne shot a glance at her mother. Wynn looked physically sick. At a nod from Bryan, Alayne switched off the MIU. The quiet held an explosive quality that Alayne neither liked nor understood.

Alayne licked her lips, her gaze edging from her father to her mother and back. Tell me again what the Vale is? And where is it?

Wynn and Bryan’s answer was a deafening silence. A scream of frustration boiled below Alayne’s surface as Wynn threw a significant glance at Bryan. Did they think she’d wilt beneath the news like a plant too long without water? I’m right here, guys, she spat after a moment. It’s not like I didn’t just watch the same newscast you did. I saw the Justice’s death; we all did.

Bryan’s gaze fastened to the carpet. Wynn clasped her hands tightly in her lap. What are we going to do? she finally asked.

About what? Bryan’s voice was tight, like a band stretched too far.

About Alayne’s Elemental assessment tomorrow.

A pit opened in the bottom of Alayne’s stomach and sucked her throat through it. Surely they wouldn’t cancel her assessment. What about it? she broke in. My appointment’s been scheduled for the last year. We can’t break it. She stared at her mother’s stone face before turning to her father. Dad?

Bryan sighed heavily. No, we can’t. His fingers slid into his shoulder-length blond hair, gripping the roots. Honey, it’s for the best.

What do you mean, it’s for the best? Wynn’s voice turned strident, echoing off the close walls of the Worths’ house. Simeon Malachi is loose. He’s back, Bryan, don’t you understand the significance of that?

I understand. You and I probably understand that better than anyone else.

A cryptic conversation tangled beneath their words. Alayne glanced back and forth between them. What significance? Why does any of this affect my school assessment?

Bryan inhaled a deep breath. Alayne, the Casters are a threat to our entire Continent, even to all of CommonEarth. Before Malachi was captured, he killed hundreds, nearly succeeding in staging a destructive coup—and now he’s demanding the Vale—

Wynn launched herself off the couch with a frantic moan, pacing the worn carpet threads, running her fingers through her silver-streaked dark hair. Bryan stepped in front of his wife, placing his hands on her shoulders. Wynn, calm down, honey. There’s very little chance of any kind of attack here in Skyden, it’s so far from the Capital. Layne can still do her assessment.

Mom, you’re hyperventilating, Alayne added.

There’s no need for her to do an assessment if she can’t go to school! How can she attend Clayborne or Andova if there are Shadow-Casters at large? I won’t allow it. Wynn’s gray eyes filled with tears.

Come on, Wynn, you know that Clayborne and Andova students will be under the protection of the most skilled Elementals from all over CommonEarth. They can keep her safer than we could here.

Can they? Wynn snapped.

"Mom, you can’t—you can’t—keep me buried here, Alayne pleaded. Dad’s right, I’ll be as safe, if not safer, at school. Can’t you see that?"

Wynn’s wide eyes held Alayne’s for a long, silent moment. Worry still creased her forehead, but at last her shoulders sagged. You’re right, of course. But Alayne, please be careful. Don’t trust anyone, don’t talk to any strangers, ever, and—

Mom! Alayne’s mouth tightened. It’ll be okay.

Will it?

Alayne swung her hand toward the window. Do you see any Shadow-Casters outside?

You can’t always see them, Alayne. They can look just as normal as the next person—

Mom, I’m just one of millions of young Elementals preparing to take my assessment. I’m not a target. I’m not a government official. Alayne rolled her eyes. Her mother’s irrational fears were toxic. I’m sure no one else is canceling assessments because of this. You’re overreacting. As usual.

Alayne turned for her bedroom and the worn running shoes she knew would bring release from the fear that circled in her stomach, no matter how much she denied it. I’m going for a run.

You’re going for a—young lady, you’re doing no such thing.

I’ll be careful, Mom! I’m seventeen, not a newborn baby! Alayne’s frustration had reached its breaking point.

That’s not the issue. It’s not safe. We just watched Simeon Malachi kill a High Court Justice, and—

That was the Capital, Mom, not Skyden! Hours from here!

The Shadow-Casters could be anywhere! If they can get close to you, they can take control of your body and mind without you even knowing it. Once you’re Casted, you’re completely under their power! And Malachi, of all the Casters, has the most skill; there’s a reason he’s their leader.

Wynn, Bryan’s quiet voice cut off Wynn’s protest, the Casters only broke out of High Court prison this morning. It’s highly unlikely they would be anywhere near—

Are you taking her side, Bryan?

I’m not taking anyone’s side; I’m just saying that Alayne going for a run is not a huge issue at this point. You need to calm down.

I need to calm down?

Alayne yanked on her running shoes, determined to shut out her parents’ argument. She tied the bows in double knots and angled through the living room to the side door. I’ll be back in time for a late supper, and I’ll stop by the market for the groceries you have on the list, she added as a peace offering to absolve her guilt. Hurt shuttered Wynn’s face.

Before her parents could say anything further, she jumped off the porch stoop, letting the door swing shut behind her. Alayne Catherine Worth! Wynn’s thin voice threaded the outside air.

She ignored it and jogged down the wet sidewalk. It had poured that morning, and the late afternoon smelled fresh with rain-washed scent. Instead of dodging the few puddles, she stepped out of her stride on purpose to hit each one. She loved the splash that accompanied a two-footed landing, the feeling of the cool wetness on her shins, the buoyant freedom of letting loose.

She ran to the end of the street and turned right, heading up the steep hill and down the other side where openness and lush greenery waited. Every day, this was what she anticipated—the run out of her city streets into her sanctuary. The creek ran beside the path, rushing and gurgling, speaking her language in familiar words without a tongue.

Alayne cleared a fallen log, dodging well-known roots and stones, her frustrations slowly leaking out with the sweat that beaded her forehead. Thoughts of the news and the terror it elicited from her parents, even her own hidden fears, faded in the adrenaline of exercise. Tomorrow, her parents would take her to the City Centre for her Elemental assessment, the privilege of a seventeen-year-old Elemental. Provided, of course, that her mother didn’t balk. She pictured once again the Justice’s terrifying death on the steps of the High Court, and she could almost see her mother’s rigid strictness stifling the life out of her as a result. She dreaded returning home to their strictures.

She huffed through her nose and out of her mouth as she ran up the steep mountain trail until the creek was a silver ribbon far below. Ahead, the waterfall roared over the rocks. As she rounded the last bend, shoving past the mountain laurels, all six hundred feet of the falls plunged past her in tumbling furor.

Alayne climbed a rock that hung out over the edge of the cliff and let her feet swing above the roaring water. She lowered her left hand into the dancing liquid, shivering at the shock that always ran up her arm when she burrowed her skin in water. She felt like a bird arriving at her nest after a long journey. She dangled her fingers in the swirling eddies, spritzing shapes into the air. She sent a watery kitten prancing to the far side, and then with another splash, she dispatched a dog after it.

Her mother would have killed her had she seen Alayne manipulating the water elements with such skill and abandon. Stop showing off, Wynn had said when she’d caught Alayne making a water harp with the dishwater several months ago. You aren’t supposed to have that kind of skill with the elements until you’ve had training. She’d glanced at the open window. Someone might notice. She’d yanked the shade closed.

To placate her mother’s paranoia, Alayne had learned to play with the water elements only here at the waterfall, her secret place.

Alayne eyed the city skyline from her perch beside the falls. She could see the tiny neighborhood in the valley where her house stood. Its roof glinted in the early evening sunlight. Her mother would be preparing supper, slamming pots and pans onto the element-powered stove, glancing at the window, fearful, always fearful, of what might hide outside.

Her dad was better, though Alayne still caught worry clouding his blue eyes sometimes if she glanced up quickly enough. Alayne’s frustrations grew with the restraint and boundaries her parents tried to impose on her. Sure, she understood the fear of Shadow-Casters. Anyone who could control another person’s mind should be feared, but how could her parents even consider not letting her go to Clayborne or Andova? Every Elemental needed training.

Not for the first time, Alayne wished one of her parents shared her talent, but they were both Naturals, and they had no power over any element at all. They just didn’t understand. She had to go to school; she needed to learn what to do with this irresistible draw she felt toward water. She flicked her hand angrily in the river, and two water ballerinas cartwheeled over the top of the falls, dispersing gracefully in the sun as they tumbled downward.

Alayne seethed inside. If the Shadow-Casters hadn’t escaped, hadn’t proclaimed far and wide that they meant to find the Vale and take over CommonEarth, she would be happily preparing for her assessment instead of worrying whether her mother would ever let her leave the house again.

Great evil and great power always go hand in hand, she muttered as she pulled a mass of water from the riverbed and began fashioning a face, feathering watery bangs across a clear forehead, and concentrating especially on the almond shape of the eyes. She allowed the water to splash back into the stream when she couldn’t get their expression to please her.

Alayne had thought about little beyond the assessment for the last several months. She worried about whether she would be assigned to Clayborne or Andova. Both of the schools were far from her home. Andova had been labeled by most of her peers at Basic School as Snob Knob. The vast majority of Andova students were either the children of Justices or those in the higher corners of government. Clayborne appealed more to Alayne; there she would fade into the background because she would be just like everyone else. Her stomach tangled in dread as she thought about the new ground she would have to break, the friends she would need to make. At the same time, butterflies fluttered inside her when she thought of how much more she could learn about Water-Wielding.

"If they label you a Water-Wielder, her dad had cautioned two days ago. I don’t think there’s much doubt that they’ll put you in that group, but don’t get your expectations up too much, Bug."

Most of the post-rain moisture had disappeared, and the heat of the evening sun roasted her face and legs as the hour grew later. Alayne shook out her limbs, loosening them for the journey down the mountain.

The sun was already setting; purple dusk tinged the sky. Her mother would be pacing by now. But she had told them she’d go by the market. It’s not like they would expect her back so soon anyway. Still, guilt stirred inside Alayne. She hit the sidewalk, which was dry now, though the moisture in the air still slid into her lungs. She inhaled a few more deep breaths as she dropped to a walk, lengthening her strides as she passed the blocks to the busy market.

All around her, people pressed and pushed and seethed and roiled, all of them presumably innocent of the crime of Shadow-Casting, but how would she know? The prickle of fear that had seized hold of Alayne’s spine during the newscast refused to let go.

Blend in, she told herself. The wolves never go for the sheep in the middle of the herd.

With gaze downcast, she entered the market square, carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone.

Chapter 2

It was busy this evening . The stalls would close shop in another hour, so Alayne didn’t have time to linger over food selections.

Alayne scanned the booths as she turned the corner into the market. Her mother had mentioned a chicken and some butternut squash yesterday, but those stalls stood near the far end.

Lettuce had returned with the cooler weather. Alayne paused under a canopy that shaded mounds of lettuce heads from the glare of the evening sun. A boy looked up from a book as he relaxed on a stool. Can I help you?

Just a head of lettuce, please. Alayne twitched her thick honey-gold braid over her sweaty shoulder and opened her wallet. She slid some coins onto the table as the boy lowered her lettuce into a bag and handed it to her. She thanked the boy and turned to go.

She’d stepped back into the main walkway when, through the undulating chatter of many conversations, she heard her mother’s name, followed by her own. Do you know Wynn Worth? Her daughter is Alayne Worth. There was a jumble of noise, and then, Don’t the Worths buy your wares occasionally?

Alayne’s gaze brushed the vendors in their stalls, the swarms of busy produce customers, the general melee that reigned in the market before closing time. Who was talking about her? She looked to her left, searching for the source of the words.

She found it in a dark-haired, rat-faced man with a diamond earring in one ear. His thin hands twitched as he fingered the weave of a basket the vendor was selling. He looked familiar, but Alayne couldn’t place him.

The vendor with whom the man spoke was Dale Trentwood, and Alayne had bought several baskets from him for her mother. He would recognize their names. What does that man know about my mother and me?

She took a deep breath and walked on. For once, the full impact of her mother’s fear pulsed in Alayne’s head. She sped up her pace, glancing over her shoulder for one last glimpse of the rat-faced stranger. Dale Trentwood shrugged, his gaze searching the crowd.

His eyes met hers. His brows rose, and his lips formed an O. He nodded to the stranger, his finger pointing her way. Alayne froze. The man saw her now, and malice tinged the downward curve of his lips. He nodded his thanks to Dale and turned out of the booth.

Alayne panicked. She wove her way through the crowds, risking a glance backward once or twice, but she couldn’t see him. Maybe she had lost him. She breathed a little lighter.

The crowd thinned as Alayne pushed her way through. She broke into a jog, knocking against shoulders as she went. Watch where you’re going, lady! The woman who’d yelled muttered a curse.

Alayne whirled around and ran face-first into the diamond earring man’s chest. He grinned as he gripped her shoulders, seemingly to steady her, and his rank breath smelled of fish. Let’s get you out of this crush. His grip tightened into a vise, and he pulled her through the stalls. Alleyways lay behind the market, empty ones that were now almost pitch-black. The lights of the square didn’t glow far down the streets.

Alayne yanked herself backward, but the man’s grip was like iron. He faced her again as he pulled. "Come on. He jerked her forward so she stumbled. A sing-song chant issued from his lips. I got her first, Malachi, and you’ve been searching all these years. But I ain’t gonna tell you, no, not for a thousand lemps, not for any amount of money."

Alayne opened her mouth to scream; surely someone in the crowd around them could see what was happening and stop it.

The man turned, aiming for the gap between two stalls, when a wooden crate of cucumbers arced through the air and crashed into the back of the man’s head. His grip loosened. Alayne whipped her arm away, staring in shock as the man crumpled to the ground. He moaned, shaking his head. A circle formed around them, curious gawkers gazing at the scene.

A voice hissed in Alayne’s ear. Come on. Get out of here! She glanced up.

Daymon Houser. Visceral hatred shot through her, but his look was so urgent, and the rat-faced man was struggling to his feet.

"Come on!"

Alayne freed her mind from shock and ran. The lettuce bounced against her leg as she dodged through the crowd. Daymon’s blue t-shirt was barely visible in front of her.

They plowed through the stalls at the far end of the market, pounding up the alley.

This way. Daymon pointed to his right, and the two of them crashed into an open doorway in a tenement basement. Daymon slammed the door with a thud.

The only light in the place filtered through dirty half-windows high on the walls. Pipes lined the ceiling, and cobwebs blanketed the corners and bare spaces between them. Alayne blinked dust from her eyelids. What’s going on, Daymon?

Shh.

Alayne listened to the rapid thud of her heartbeat in the heavy silence. Hurried footsteps pounded down the road outside the door. A shout echoed down the alley, followed by another one farther away, and then silence again.

Daymon, what in CommonEarth is going on? she asked again. Now that her adrenaline ebbed, the flow of dislike for the boy who crouched opposite her returned in full force.

Hush, keep your voice down. He moved to a window, standing on tiptoe to peer out. The dull light from the alley filtered across his short dark hair, and his muscles tightened beneath his fitted t-shirt as he swiped his fingers across the dusty glass.

Alayne shifted, her stance wary. Sparks of panic still sizzled in her head. Her mind captured the picture of the diamond earring man, and fear streaked her spine. Though Daymon had saved her from an unknown fate, her dislike of him rankled.

Daymon Houser had been in her class at Basic School. They’d had a cordial non-relationship with each other until the day Alayne had accidentally intruded on a group of boys in the outside corridor of the school.

Daymon had taken Alayne’s friend, Leesha, to a movie the week before. Leesha was thrilled, calling Alayne to tell her about it. She and Daymon had talked until curfew. He’d laughed at all her jokes, and she thought he might ask her again.

Alayne was happy for her friend until she heard the boys talking.

Leesha’s a snob. Daymon’s laugh echoed in the hallway. And boring as sand. I thought the date would never end.

You should dump her for her friend. Alayne recognized the voice of Chan Lakes, a boy in her history class.

A long pause ensued. When Daymon spoke again, his voice was rough. Alayne?

Yeah, that girl is hot.

Hot? Daymon snorted. She’s an ice queen, Chan. Who’d want to try to chip away at someone like that?

Alayne stood around the corner out of sight, horrified pity for her friend and blazing fury about his comments regarding herself struggling for first place in her mind.

Back to Leesha, then, Chan said. Eh, it’s not a bad deal. Her dad’s rich. The boys melted into laughter.

Alayne had heard enough. She rounded the corner and marched down the hallway. The boys didn’t notice her until she stopped a few feet from them. Daymon caught sight of her first. His laughter silenced, and he narrowed his eyes. What do you want, Worth?

Just one thing. Alayne weaved her way between the guys to stand in front of Daymon. Her head only came to his chin, but anger momentarily drove all fear from her mind.

You are a low-life scum. She grabbed his upper forearms and brought her knee up between his legs, hard.

Daymon doubled over, a shrill howl tearing from his lips. The other boys stared open-mouthed, immobilized with surprise. Without another word, Alayne turned and ran the length of the hallway, half-afraid the boys would come after her. She glanced back as she reached the corner. Daymon had regained his composure, but his furious blue gaze burned a pathway down the hall toward her.

Those eyes stared at her now, the blue barely visible in the light from the window. She swallowed her reluctance and forced herself to speak. Thank you, she whispered.

Daymon stared silently at her. Alayne endured his gaze as long as she could and then whispered, Do you know who the man was? And why was he asking questions about me and my mother?

Daymon didn’t break eye-contact. I’m surprised you don’t know. Don’t you ever watch the news? There it was, the antagonism that had always laced his voice the times he’d been forced to speak to her.

Of course I watch the news, Alayne hissed. "Every day, I watch the Shadow-Caster-infested news. Why?"

Daymon shrugged. That man was one of Malachi’s Casters, Hans Jannis. But he’s a rogue agent. They did a little story on him a couple of months back. Four years ago, when the Casters went on their rampage, he tried to Shadow-Cast a whole office building and march them out to face Malachi directly.

He did? Alayne couldn’t recall hearing the story, but Daymon’s explanation made sense. The rat-faced man’s mutterings just before Daymon had extracted her from the situation came clear.

"Yeah. So I would have thought you’d have a little more sense than to wander around the market by yourself. Skies, Alayne, there are Casters on the loose!"

"You were wandering around by yourself, Alayne snapped. I don’t see why you think it’s so awful for me; it’s not like I’m anyone special."

"Alayne, in spite of the fact that you think you know everything, I hate to break it to you. You’re clueless. So here’s a hint to help you survive. Your world where you live is not as small as you think, and your actions affect far more people than you will ever understand."

Alayne flushed in anger. Everyone’s actions affect the people around them, not just mine.

Sure, sure, kid. Daymon’s voice was condescending. Just try to be more careful, would you?

Why do you care what I do?

Daymon advanced until he stood toe to toe with Alayne. Brilliant anger crackled beneath dark lashes that should be too long for any boy. "I don’t care in the least what you do, but I do care what happens to others because you choose to do it. Are we clear on that?"

Crystal, Alayne snapped, more confused than ever.

Tension-filled silence riddled the basement. After a moment, Daymon stepped back. It’s time for you to go. I’ll walk you home. He moved toward the door.

I can take care of—

Shut up! Daymon’s voice whipped across Alayne’s. She gulped down the last of her sentence as Daymon released a carefully controlled breath. I said I’m walking you home. Jannis is still out there, or did you forget?

Of course, she hadn’t forgotten. Even now, she trembled at the memory of the man’s iron grip on her shoulders. With a sigh, she relented. Fine.

Daymon nodded and cracked the door open. Cautiously, he led the way out, glancing both ways, up, all around before motioning to Alayne. She jumped up the steps to the road.

Grasping her lightly by the arm, Daymon slid them through the shadows toward the market.

The vendors packed up their tents in the square at the end of the alley. Alayne glanced over her shoulder hundreds of times between the tenement basement and the lights of the square.

At the mouth of the alley, Daymon released her arm, but stayed close as they wove through the market stalls. Daymon’s impatience was nearly tangible.

Alayne tightened her grip on her bag of lettuce as they hurried homeward, Daymon dogging her steps. Daymon, you can go home now. I’m fine, and there’s no sign of whatever-his-name-is, Jannis or something. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for your assessment tomorrow morning?

Special arrangements. I’m leaving tomorrow, but I don’t have to be assessed.

Alayne was surprised. Everyone her age was supposed to take assessments. She pressed her lips together, biting back a snarky retort. She didn’t want to dwell on people like Daymon Houser who made her life miserable. Daymon’s heroic aberration in behavior did nothing to improve her opinion of him. She wished she could talk to Leesha about it, but her friend’s family had moved to a different City Centre soon after graduation from Basic School.

When Alayne’s small house and white picket-fenced yard slid into view, she stopped her walk and turned to face the tall, broad-shouldered boy who walked next to her. Listen, Daymon, I appreciate your help today. I—I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up when you did.

You might have tried running, Daymon muttered. Tension laced his words. Fun as it was to play nursemaid, Worth, I’ve got to go.

Alayne stared at him, registering the animosity in his gaze. Well, more power to him, she thought. I never liked him in the first place.

Alayne turned left as Daymon turned right. She walked across her yard to the side entrance of her house, glancing once more over her shoulder at the boy. He’d shoved his hands in his pockets. His shoulders were rounded as he slumped away in the darkness. She knew it was immature, but she stuck out her tongue at the back of his head and then opened the screen door to enter the kitchen.

The panic of the whole episode, the questions that clouded her mind, the overwhelming fear she’d experienced half an hour ago burned a brand into her brain.

Wynn burst through the kitchen door from the living room. Skies, Alayne! Thank goodness you’re back. We’ve been so worried. She placed her hands on Alayne’s shoulders, and Alayne flinched in memory of the stranger’s hands holding her in the market. Are you truly all right? Wynn asked. The older woman glanced down at the bag Alayne still held against her chest. She released Alayne’s shoulders and took the bag, placing it on the table and emptying it. They didn’t have poultry or gourds this evening?

Alayne cleared her throat. I forgot.

Wynn stared at her before picking up the lettuce to take to the counter. When she spoke next, she seemed to be trying to remove the tension that still hung in the room. How was the market?

Alayne picked at a loose thread on her shirt. I was nearly kidnapped. There was a man; he mentioned your name. He tried to drag me away to do who knows what to me. Daymon said he was a rogue Caster from Simeon Malachi’s group. I barely escaped. What haven’t you told me, Mom?

Alayne sighed. It was fine, she heard herself say. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Chapter 3

Shadow-Casters chased Alayne through her dreams that night, brandishing unseen weapons, hurling Casts as she spun to the right, to the left, and back again, panting, panting, running in slow-motion as they gained ground.

Relief flooded her as she blinked at the pearly moist morning, the familiar street outside her window empty of menacing figures. Adrenaline-laced butterflies stirred inside her as she thought of her assessment.

Alayne shook off her nightmares, shoving back her covers and pulling on shorts and a t-shirt. She stared into her oval mirror as she wound her waist-length hair into her normal braid and shook her head. Assessment was a bigger deal than shorts and a t-shirt.

She stripped off her clothes, returning to her closet again. With more thought this time, she selected a pair of black leggings and a long, emerald green top, belting the shirt with a wide black belt. She slid her feet into black strappy platforms and smiled nervously at her reflection. She