Nic glanced at him over her shoulder, carrying the lantern around the room, using the flame to light the sconces embedded at regular intervals in the silver frames. “You don’t need it.”
“But what if—”
“You don’t need it,” she repeated. “You have me. In addition, not being able to draw on moonlight should help you focus on pulling only from my magic. Also, it might help you distinguish my magic from yours.”
As if that was ever an issue. She was the fire to his water, the sun to his moon. “We’re still surrounded by water,” he felt he should point out.
She curled a lip. “You don’t have to remind me, but unless we move to the desert, that’s a given. Just don’t let the lack of moonlight affect your thinking, all right?”
Oh, right. He tried to clear his mind. Not that he was very good at it. Probably there were mental exercises taught at Convocation Academy that everyone knew but him. Nic moved gracefully from sconce to sconce, adding oil, then lighting them. Almost complete, a circle of warm light surrounded them. “I didn’t notice these sconces last time,” he said.
“I did, which is good because we’d have been out of luck if I hadn’t thought to grab some oil. We can see each other this time.”
He’d kind of loved how she’d looked clad only in moonlight. Though tonight they would’ve been fumbling in the dark. “Maybe once the shipment of elementals arrives, we can put one or two in here for light and heat.”
“Are you cold?” she asked, sliding the silver grate over the final flaming sconce.
Oddly enough, he wasn’t, though his palms were damp with the chill sweat of nerves. He rubbed them dry against his thighs. “No, I thought you might be.”
“I suspect there are spells laid into the arcanium to keep it at a stable temperature.” She set the lantern aside and met him under the moon window. Until she stepped into the tiled circle centered under the great lens, he hadn’t realized that was where he stood. Something in his magical awareness tingled as she crossed that threshold, the glittering silver-and-blue-tiled border exactly mimicking the boundaries of the moon-window lens above. Tension riffled through him, along with dark desire.
Take,it whispered.Have.
Or was that Nic? She tilted her head, observing him with languid, catlike eyes. “Besides,” she said, “you never want to bring another wizard’s magic into your arcanium. Only your own magic.”
“What about enchanted artifacts that I’m supposed to buy from House El-Adrel instead of violating obscure Convocation rules by making myself?” He’d tried to sound lighthearted, but too much tension simmered between them.
“That’s an excellent question,” she conceded. “And I don’t know the answer. I suppose anything you keep in your own arcanium wouldn’t be subject to Convocation law. After all, how would they know? But we could ask House Tadkiel for a ruling.”
“Let’s… not,” he ground out, recalling that Tadkiel had helped create the hunters. He was also having a difficult time assembling thoughts beyond plundering that mouth of hers. The way she’d looked that afternoon, with her lush lips wrapped around his cock… Nic’s eyes glittered as if she sensed his thoughts. They stood very close, a breath apart, but not yet touching. “What are the consequences of havingyourmagic in my arcanium?” he asked, his voice whiskey rough.
Her lips curved in sultry knowing. “My magic becomes a part of yours. That’s entirely the point. That’s why wizards have familiars, why you take our magic into yourselves and make it into something greater than the sum of the parts.”
“Tell me, then,” he murmured, feeling as if he could fall into those emerald depths and swim there in eternal contentment, “since we are awakening this arcanium together, attuning it to us—what are the consequences of having my magic become a part of yours?”