“You’re not worthless,” Yvan vehemently insists, his wings folding rigidly in. “You’re wrong.” I pick up a stick lying at my feet and rip the small diverging branches off it as I step into the clearing. “I’ll show you exactly what happened when they wandtested me.” “You don’t even have a real wand in your hand, Elloren,” he points out gently. I don’t care. I want him to see just how powerless I am—how I can’t even perform the simplest spell of all.
