Book 8: A Moment of Quiet

Kenna

Evander steps closer, but I’m still draped in my shadow. I love this power of mine, honestly. It’s my favorite of the arsenal of magic that dwells in my veins. I can just… disappear, or harness the power and turn myself into a writhing mass of the darkest kind of shadow and cause all kinds of chaos, but I’ve never done that. 

Blending into the shadows? Yes. All the time. 

But Evander can see me. He crouches in front of me, knitting his fingers together while resting his elbows on his knees. 

“Your uniform looks stupid,” I grumble. 

“I’ve been told women love men in uniform.”

“You look like an underfed dragon.” It’s true, in my defense. Black, thick fabric envelopes him from his neck to the tips of his toes–every inch of him covered in strange scales of a depthless onyx. Leather armor covers his chest, forearms, and thighs. It hugs them like a glove, which makes sense, given that all of this is possible be