The laugh was welcome, loosening his tension. “Tell me.”
She shook her head slowly, holding his gaze. “I know you don’t like to hear it, but when I tell you that there are good reasons the Convocation teaches wizards to control their familiars, this is one of them. This is a challenge for you more so than for most wizards because you’re not as experienced, you don’t have rote lessons to fall back on when things fall apart, and because you justhadto acquire the most powerful familiar you could.” She gave him a cheeky smile, but her heart wasn’t in it. “Gabriel, in order to use my magic, you have to be able to control it. Otherwise it’s as if you’ve called for rain to water your crops and accidentally ended up with a deluge that washes away all your topsoil.”
Never forget that she listened closely to everything he told her. “An excellent farming analogy, if borrowed.”
“I’m a good mimic.” She continued to regard him seriously, and he knew what she wasn’t saying, that it all came back to the cursed arcanium and silver chains. To possessing and controlling her in the way she claimed she wanted, but that terrified him to his bones. Not because he didn’t want it, but because he wanted ittoomuch. There had to be another way that wouldn’t lead him down such a dangerously corrupting path.
“I can understand that I need to control the magic,” he said slowly, “but I don’t believe that means I must controlyou.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, then generations of wizards and centuries of study and experimentation are all wrong.”
“Finally, I’m getting through to you,” he said with a broad smile, and she laughed, albeit with an exasperated shake of her head. It was getting somewhere that he could make her laugh, like coaxing the sun from the clouds. “Can we have this conversation not standing waist deep in cold marsh water?”
“I feel I should point out it’s only thigh deep on your ridiculously big body, and we can, yes—afteryou try again.”
He groaned at the prospect.
She squeezed his hands, held on to one, and swept the other at the water-filled room. “Get back on that horse, young wizard!”
“I think that’s a mixed metaphor.”
“Sorry, I don’t know any swamp metaphors.” At least her eyes danced with humor again, and she was comfortable enough with him to tease. And badger.
Feeling like a youth approaching whiskey again after his first lethal hangover, he sipped lightly of her magic—and was rewarded with a sardonic sidelong glare.
“The longer you dillydally,” she said, “the longer I’m standing waist deep in this nasty water, bracing for one of those water snakes to bite me.”
“They’re not venomous,” he assured her.
“Oh, I feel so much better,” she deadpanned. “Now, really draw on my magic. You’re so certain you can control it your own way, then do it. Show me these amazing, never-before-seen skills.”
With grim determination—and her sarcasm as a goad—he opened himself to the wine-red, rose-red, bloodred torrent of her magic, at least prepared this time for the overwhelming and intoxicating burn of it. As before, she stood quietly beside him, allowing him the silence to concentrate, providing a steadying presence along with her generously potent magic. He’d wanted this, a partner to teach and support him, long before he’d realized the shadow side of his idealistic expectations. Hewouldfind a way to make this work. He could do this. With the potency of Nic’s magic, all he needed to do was apply the skills.
Ignoring the water in the room, he reached for the water outside. The marsh, fed by the river, wanted to reclaim this land. The land wanted to be marsh. Instead of fighting that, he opened the channels for the water to flow into. Water was a force of nature that way. It wanted to flow in, to settle, to slowly carve basins and canyons, to edge out the temporary habitations of the parasitic people on the land and wash them away. Nic had reminded him, perhaps without intending to, that it was always much easier to workwithwater than against it.
So, he went with the flow of the water, giving it the space beneath the arcade, coaxing it to flow in, to take, to have. Nic’s sultry invitation echoed in his mind with all its erotic and seductive power, her magic following after, obedient to his command. The rose-infused heated wine of her flowed with the water, all submitting to his will.
The floor moved beneath his feet, surprising him.
“Steady,” Nic murmured. “You’re doing it. Keep your sea legs and go with the motion. Remember the barge.”
Right, the barge. That had been hugely more challenging, the sea raging to dash them upon the rocks, and Nic’s magic far less familiar to him then, much less a part of him. How accustomed he’d become to taking from her in such a short space of time.
The predator desires the prey—he can’t have any mercy in his heart for it.
It’s in a wizard’s nature…
The floor shuddered, tilting dangerously, water sloshing around them, startling him.
“Concentrate!” Nic bit out.
“I’m trying,” he said between clenched teeth.
“Don’t try.Do.” Her voice and grip on his hand were remorseless.
No mercy. Devouring her magic, he wrestled the water into submission, making it obey his will, flowing into place beneath the arcade. Dimly, he was aware of the water around them draining away, just as Nic had predicted. Misty sunlight poured in the arches, marching elegantly down either side of the room as they elevated above the water level, plant matter dripping where it hung on ornamental spurs and flourishes.
“Well done, wizard,” Nic murmured. “Now stabilize it.”