Lizzy screamed when she felt Fredric die. It wasn’t the first time one of her bearers had died, but that in no way lessened the shock. When the last of his life drained away Lizzy did one of the hardest things possible. She sent her power into the blade that served as her physical host and made it fly.

Down the tunnel and into the night air she went. Like an arrow out of a bow, she streaked across the sky toward The Citadel. Moving on her own drained her power faster than any other task she was called on to perform. It would be a close call whether she made it back to the armory or not.

The dark stone fortress appeared in her extended perceptions. She couldn’t see exactly, but she did have a certain spatial awareness. She flew around to the rear of the keep until she located a six-inch-diameter hole in the wall, carefully hidden from casual view, and constructed specifically for her use in case her bearer died in the field. In The Citadel’s two-plus-century history she’d only had to use it once before today. She flew down her emergency entrance and into the darkness.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Lizzy slipped along the tunnel, flew to the first-floor armory, and landed on a stone slab raised four feet off the ground. She settled in place an instant before her power ran out. Soon now someone would arrive. She’d shattered several sorcerous barriers on her flight in. Whoever came would know at once what had happened. That person would tell Damien. Would he weep for his father? They hadn’t had the best relationship, but it had improved over the past few months.

If Lizzy had had a real body she would have sighed. Poor Fredric, he hadn’t been bad as bearers went. Now they would try to foist another man on her, but this time she would choose. No one would dictate her fate.

She would have Damien and no other.