I drink in the sight of my little sister, fierce and unflinching on her white horse. Niya is my opposite in so many ways, from her petite frame to her luminous gray eyes, to her flyaway hair, wisping out of her braid even now. The steel in her gaze, the intent focus of her whole being as she rides toward me, is new, but I recognize it regardless.
She intends to save me.
Her ears and neck and fingers glitter with gems, giving me a terrifying idea of what she plans: every one of those jewels has been fashioned into a tiny amulet. She isn’t just a slip of a girl riding into a pack of bloodthirsty thieves; she’s a mage with a single-minded goal, and anyone who steps in her way will feel her wrath.
Except that revealing her talent in public will brand her a greater outlaw than Bardok Three-F
