~8~
“What went wrongis there’s simply too much water,” Gabriel explained, feeling more than a little churlish. When his control snapped and Nic vanished underwater, the panic had nearly overwhelmed him. Maybe he’d overreacted, but he’d never forgive himself if something happened to her. As it was, she looked like a bedraggled water pixie, the velvet riding habit dripping with algae and swirling in burgundy billows around her, her dark hair plastered against her skull so she seemed be all huge green eyes and temptingly lush lips. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to find a way to overcome this tense distance between them.
Distance he’d created through his own blundering.
“You are thinking backwards.” She raised one dark brow at his confusion. “You dealt with an ocean when you kept the barge off the rocks in Wartson. This is much less water.”
With effort, he dragged his attention to the subject of magic. He was heartily regretting that he hadn’t sunk the benighted house long before Nic laid eyes upon it. She wasn’t one to relinquish a challenge. “I take your point,” he said, attempting to set emotion aside and be logical, “but with the barge you advised me to move the water around the barge itself, not to wrestle the entire ocean. This is a different situation. No matter how fast I moved the water, more flowed in to replace it.”
“I noticed,” she replied. “And the faster you moved it, the more turbulence you created, making waves like a storm would.”
“Exactly.” He should feel more triumphant that she understood his point, but she only regarded him blandly.
“So, the solution is…” she prompted.
He scrubbed his hands over his face wearily. The stables had not been comfortable, especially with Vale hogging his stall, displeased at being forced to share. “I don’t know, Nic. I suspect the solution is to sink the whole house in a bog and go find somewhere dry to live.”
“Wouldn’t it be a fen, since it would still be fed by the river nearby?” she asked with an arch look. Then she patted his arm, somewhat awkward with it. “Don’t be discouraged. I’m probably a terrible teacher.”
“Or I’m a terrible student,” he grumbled.
“A perfect match, then.” She gave him a rueful smile. “My point is that you were trying to move all the marsh water. Try simply adding to the water beneath this room. As it rises, the water in here will flow out, yes?”
“Right. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“You’re heavy-handed. Comes of having massive amounts of power. Speaking of which, what happened when you lost control?”
“Hmm. Let me think. Oh! I lost control.”
“Ha ha.Whydid you lose control?”
“Because I’m a shitty wizard,” he hazarded.
She didn’t laugh, however, instead giving him a fuming glare. “Gabriel Phel. I never once said you were a shitty wizard.”
“You called me a lost cause.”
“Exactly the opposite. I said you werenota lost cause. Now stop sulking and take a step back. What caused you to lose control?”
“It felt like it was all getting away from me,” he said with a sigh. “Like a runaway horse.”
“All right, then.” She beamed at him. “One key approach to managing magic—especially powerful magic like yours and mine—is facing your fears honestly. Fear is the enemy.”
He could absolutely see the truth of that—both from what had just happened and from his nonmagical experience fighting off the scavengers that plagued Meresin. “Your magic is a lot to manage.” Not something he’d wanted to admit, but that had been the biggest problem.
Not drawing on his own magic and using so much of hers instead had been like gulping red wine, delicious, potent, and going straight to his head. Nic’s fire had burned through him, seeming to turn his water magic to steam, making the moon magic reflect brilliantly, even though he hadn’t even been trying to use the latter. He braced for Nic’s scathing reply, and she did seem to have something to say to that. But she didn’t immediately spit it out, instead chewing on her bottom lip, hesitating as she so rarely did.
She’d been walking on eggshells around him since last night. Not that he blamed her, but he was kicking himself for losing all the ground he’d gained with her. He’d managed to establish some trust between them, and he’d dashed it away along with the dishes he’d broken. “Just tell me,” he urged. “I can take it.”
“You won’t like what I have to say,” she warned him.
“Then that’s my problem.” He took her hands. They were cold, a shiver running through her. “We need to get you out of this chilly water.”
“Or you could warm it up,” she replied pointedly. “At least the water in our clothes, yes?”
“Yes.” Using his own magic, he did so, pleased to feel her shivering relax somewhat. “I feel like you’ve been cold and wet since you met me,” he observed.
“It must be more than mere coincidence,” she agreed wryly. “The perils of living in a swamp with a water wizard.”