Chapter Forty
Anaela sat quietly in the nearly empty room, staring at her hands. They seemed smaller than normal, yet she knew in reality they were in proportion with her body. Still, she was unable to move her eyes away from observing her hands. It seemed if she looked hard enough, she might be able to spot magic sparkling across them. There was no magic, or at least no magic she could observe.
She glanced over to see Searon doing the same thing as he stared at his hands in disbelief. He seemed content poking one of his hands with the other, as if searching for a spark of magic. The room where they sat was small, much smaller than it appeared. They sat at a blue-stained oak table with only two chairs across from each other. Neither spoke. They’d barely spoken a word after the faeries in
