Wrath of the Storm (Mark of the Thief 3)

Nic eyed me sideways, warning me not to answer. Instead, he asked, "Has Crispus arrived yet?"

"We received word from an advance rider," Livia said. "He and his mother will be here soon. Perhaps by the end of the week." And no one looked more excited about that than her.

"Nic?"

He turned. Radulf stood in the doorway of the home, balanced on a cane, but otherwise much healthier and stronger than when I'd last seen him.

When Nic stepped forward, Radulf walked to meet him, and the two stared at each other for a while. Radulf's eyes flitted from Nic's chest to his wrist, checking for both of the amulets.

"You destroyed them?"

Nic's hand brushed up to his chest, where the bulla used to be. Finding nothing there, it only fell to his side again, and even if he didn't say it, I knew it made him sad, like remembering a lost friend. "They're all gone."

"Ah." Radulf walked around Nic, surveying him. "You'll need a new tunic."

"I hope it's the last one I'll need for a while." Nic drew in a sharp breath. "My magic is gone. Not gone, in the way that it's been empty before, but truly gone. I destroyed everything."

"And yet you heard my voice in your head this morning. Interesting." Radulf smiled at that.

I stepped forward. "How? If neither of you has magic anymore --"

A twinkle sparkled in Radulf's eyes. "As I said, that's very interesting. Nothing more." He clapped Nic on the back, just below his right shoulder. When he did, I was sure I saw him flinch, maybe just a little.

Nic smiled back, a real smile, and the most natural smile I'd seen from him since we met. He held out his hand for me, which I gladly took. "Yes," he said. "Whatever comes for us now, it will be ... interesting."

The close of any series is difficult. By the time I write the final chapter, I've gone on quite a journey with these characters, not only following their ups and downs in the books, but also in events that never make it into the pages. It takes several bumps, bruises, and scars for Nic and his family and friends to reach the ending of this series, but they are all stronger for it. Maybe the same is true for each of us. Life is a series of ups and downs, and if we get a few scars of our own, then it proves we can heal.

There are several people who have walked this journey with me, my family most closely of all. Jeff, I could not do this without you, nor would I want to. Here's to the day you came to me. To my three kids, you bring joy to my life beyond what you can imagine. Each of you amazes me.

I am also infinitely grateful to the Scholastic family for your countless hours of hard work, much of which doesn't get appreciated as it should. I thank you for all you do. To my editor, Lisa Sandell, you are everything a brilliant editor should be and a wonderful friend beyond that. I am so lucky to work with you and look forward to many more exciting years together.

It is also an honor to work with a talented agent such as Ammi-Joan Paquette. Seriously, if I heard a rumor that you could spin gold, I wouldn't even bat an eye.

There are many more writing projects still to come -- please watch for upcoming titles! And there are dozens more ideas in my head with characters fighting for my attention. I can't wait to share all of them with you!

Read on for a sneak peek at Jennifer A. Nielsen's chilling fantasy, The Scourge!

Few things were worth the risk to my life, but the juicy vinefruit was one of them. Even more so today because I was long past hungry. If I didn't eat something soon, my life was in danger anyway.

Not immediate danger. Mama had poor man's bread at home and, indeed, was expecting me back soon for supper. But I couldn't stand the thought of gnawing on those thick crusts for yet another meal. Especially not now, not after spotting a vinefruit this

close, in perfect ripeness.

Getting it would be simple.

Well, not simple in the traditional definition of the word. But simple, meaning that I intended to get that fruit if it was the last thing I ever did.

It required a climb up a tall tree with thorns that tore at the only good dress I still owned. I also had to avoid the sticky vines that loved to tangle my arms and legs, leaving behind a terrible rash wherever they touched skin. So far, so good. All I had left was to shinny across a thin branch, avoiding the hecklebird that nested there. Hecklebirds were mean, with long narrow beaks that pecked mercilessly at whoever disturbed their eggs. Well, I didn't want the eggs; they were disgusting anyway. I only wanted the vinefruit next to the nest.

So out onto the limb I went, patiently inching my way forward, listening for the hecklebird's ugly caw. I got about halfway out and then heard a crack.

The limb snapped in half, and I clawed for anything that could keep me from falling. My hand found the vinefruit, which actually might've helped save me if it had not been so perfectly ripe. Instead, it came with me as I fell.

I went down headfirst, crashing into another hecklebird nest, which sent a particularly foul-smelling bird fluttering into the air in anger. It'd be back. Then a vine caught my leg in a tangle, leaving me suspended in midair about twelve feet above the ground.

I caught a yelp in my throat, reminding myself I was not the type of girl who panicked over ordinary near-death experiences. I was, however, a girl whose heart was racing far too quickly. I needed to breathe, to think. But mostly, I needed to not fall any farther.

Granted, this had not turned out as well as I'd hoped. But my best friend, Weevil, had said he'd meet me here today. If necessary, he could help. It wouldn't be his first time saving me from my own stupidity. This wasn't even the worst mess he'd have caught me in.