Silver condensed in the air around Gabriel’s upraised hands, glittering with argent sparks. The crowd murmured, a surprised ripple growing into cheers. He didn’t need the moon magic for the levee work, she suspected, so he’d added that bit for the show she’d requested. Clever.
In the great pit of the levee, mud boiled, turning in a circle as he stirred it with his water magic. Then water began to lift from the viscous mixture, condensing into great, teardrop-shaped globules that rose majestically into the air. Gabriel must have added moonlight to the water, because they glowed from within, iridescent in the gloom. He circled his upraised hands in a sweeping gesture, as if conducting an orchestra, and the assembly gasped as rain began—falling not from the clouds but rising from the ground in a steady, shimmering patter. Even Nic, who was accustomed to feats of mind-bending magic, gaped in astonished delight.
The water chimed cheerfully against the luminescent globes, which increased in size as the tiny droplets impacted their undulating surfaces before merging with them. Gabriel moved his hands in an aerial dance, directing the magnificent globes, each now as large as a person, to float over the levee in ponderous grace, soaking in the upward-falling rain. They hovered over the drying soil lightly as bubbles of soap, in as prodigious a display of power as she could wish for. And still Gabriel only sipped lightly at her magic, winding it deftly with his own as he extracted water from the saturated earthen dam.
Lowering one hand, Gabriel pointed imperiously at his father, as if directing him into life also. At GF’s command, workers rushed forward to shovel finely ground stone into the long trench. Gabriel waited for the signal, then crooked a finger at one of the water globes, coaxing it to sail lower, sifting a gentle sprinkle of water over the trench. The mix stirred itself in a figure eight pattern, moving thickly, reminiscent of bread dough. GF held up a hand to Gabriel, and the globe floated up, no longer shedding water. Workers eyed it dubiously as they shoveled in more of the ground stone, which Gabriel then watered and stirred. Working in stages, they mixed the stone and water until GF pronounced it good.
Gabriel swept both arms in a grand gesture just as thunder boomed above. A final, near-torrential rainfall of water showered upward into the globes—each now as big as a cottage—a glorious ascendence that Gabriel spun a bit of moonlight into so the upward rain shimmered with rainbows and pearlescent light. Sailing the luminescent globes to the nearby river, he burst the bubbles so they exploded with showers of glowing raindrops, falling in prismatic arcs to join the lazily flowing river. The crowd broke into applause, cheering wildly, and Gabriel took Nic’s hand, drawing her to stand beside him, holding their joined hands upraised so the jubilation grew even louder—underscored by a thunderous growl of thunder that rumbled over the land.
As if cued by the sound, the clouds released a rain of their own. Children shouted and ran about, holding out their hands as if to catch it, while the field workers seemed to barely notice. The wizards and familiars put up cloak hoods or broke out umbrellas, some walking briskly back toward the manse. GF frowned at the trench and cocked a questioning brow at Gabriel and Nic. “She’s not quite set,” he worried. “Can you keep it dry for a bit longer, just until we get the tarps in place?”
Gabriel gave her an assessing look. “How are you for magic?”
“Replete,” she assured him. “Can’t you tell?”
“I wasn’t sure if you could fake it somehow.”
“I would never fake with you, darling,” she replied warmly, and GF cleared his throat. “Apologies,” she told him, and he waved her off.
“Newlyweds,” he replied, shaking his head. “About keeping this cement dry?”
“On it,” Gabriel said, drawing on her magic a bit more. He really was getting better at it, not nearly so heavy-handed as in the beginning. The rain soaking her hair and gown abated, and she glanced up, unable to prevent a gasp of awe at the sight. It was as if she stood under a glass dome, the rain hitting an invisible ceiling and rolling down in runnels.
“Good boy,” GF chortled, clapping his son on the shoulder, then pivoted to give Nic a hard peck on the cheek. “And good girl.” He strode off, calling to the workers who were unrolling long spools of some sort of waxed canvas.
“Can you extend the rain shield enough to give the wizards a dry walk back to the house?” Nic asked.
Gabriel raised a brow, but nodded, focusing in that direction. The group hadn’t made it far yet, most of them picking their way fastidiously over the furrowed field and the rapidly forming puddles. Only Asa appeared to be comfortable, ambling along with his hands in his pockets, Laryn only a miserably trudging pair of legs beside him with her yellow umbrella covering the rest of her. They were close enough still for their exclamations of surprise to reach her as Gabriel’s shield cut off the pouring rain. Several craned their necks back to study the phenomenon as Nic had, while Asa pointed in their direction, saying something to the group, then bowed in gratitude.
“Wave,” Nic instructed, lifting her own hand in acknowledgment, pleased that Gabriel managed a similarly gracious gesture.
“Am I being powerful or generous here?” Gabriel asked.
“Both at once,” she replied promptly. “And that was truly impressive. Well done. What was the ground-stone doughy stuff?”
He laughed. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or chagrined that you petted me for a job well done without knowing what I actually did.”
She gave him an impish smile. “I don’t have to know what you actually did to understand it was good work, but I am curious. Also, if you could keep rain off of us, why didn’t you do that in Wartson for that miserable trek back to Port Anatole?”
Wincing, he interlaced their fingers and turned her to walk back to the house, keeping the rain shield over them. “It didn’t occur to me,” he admitted. “Also, since keeping company with a powerful familiar, I’ve become considerably more extravagant with magic. Keeping the rain off is a steady drain.”
She could sense that much, though she wasn’t losing magic fast enough that it was a problem. “They’ll have those tarps in place soon, I’m sure, and the minions are nearly to the manse,” she observed. “You don’t need to shelter us.”
Giving her an affectionate smile, he squeezed her hand, running a thumb over the back of it. “If we can’t use our magic for a bit of comfort for ourselves, what’s the point? I don’t have many options for spoiling my wife, but I can do this much. I know how you hate getting wet—unless it’s a hot bath.”
“Thank you.” His consideration warmed her as much as the most extravagant gift.
“You’re welcome.” Lifting her hand, he kissed it, his lips wet with rain and chilly, the stroke of his tongue against her skin hot and enticing, her loins heating immediately.
“Speaking of hot baths,” she purred invitingly, “we could go share one.”
“With wizard and familiar applicants arriving in droves every hour? I don’t think we can afford the time. Three more sets arrived while we were fixing the levee.” He shifted his hold on her hand to lightly encircle her wrist, vising gently, but just enough to send another sensual susurrus through her body. “You’ll just have to wait until we visit the arcanium tonight,” he added with a blandly wicked smile.
She nearly groaned. “It is so not fair that you can do that to me so easily.”
He sobered, wizard-black eyes burning into her. “If it’s any comfort, I’m suffering alongside you.”
“I’m not sure it is any comfort.”