It hurt so much that even thinking of it brought a quick sob that caused her to catch her breath. Her mother, whom she loved, would have nothing to do with her, and even though Arlingfant insisted she would come around in time, Aphenglow was no longer sure.

In light of this, her uncle’s plea that she consider departing the Druid order to return to Arborlon had merit. Everything that was wrong with her life, that made her unhappy, could be traced to her decision to join the order. Was it time for her to leave? Was she not seeing things as clearly as she thought? She loved her work, her Druid companions, and the cause for which she labored so hard.

But maybe that wasn’t enough.

Maybe …

She was aware of the possibility of danger after the other night’s attack, her senses alert and her wards spread wide, so she sensed as much as heard the almost inaudible whisper of fabric as the black-clad figure hurtled out of the darkness behind her, and she threw herself aside in plenty of time to avoid his blade. She knew at once it was the same man who had attacked her last night. But last night he had caught her by surprise, and she had already made up her mind that he would not do so again. Ever since she had set out from the palace to have dinner with Ellich and Jera she had been watching and listening, anticipating that he might try again.

Even so, he had almost gotten to her.

She rolled and came back to her feet in a single fluid movement, dropping the backpack in the grass and bracing herself as he flew out of the darkness once more. Whoever he was, he did not give up easily. Instead of waiting on him, she counterattacked. She dropped sharply as they came together, rolled and swept her legs into his ankles, and took him off his feet. He lost his balance and went down, but was up again instantly. He came at her again, and she sidestepped another lunge with the blade. He was quick and practiced, and given enough time he would find his target. But she had her magic in place by then, flaring at her fingertips, and when he attacked once more, she used it. White light exploded out of her hands, picked him up, and flung him away like a rag doll. She used more force than she had intended, but there was no time to modulate or adjust. He catapulted backward as if yanked by a rope, slamming into a tree, his arms flailing wildly as he tried to cushion the blow and failed.

Down he went in a crumpled heap and lay there.