Page 141 of The Demon Tide

“Aislinn sent for my aid,” Thierren explains. “She said wind power was needed.”

“We want to help you, Elloren,” Sparrow adds, “and Lukas too. Any way we can.”

I nod, grateful, as I take in the astonishingly transformed Sparrow—resplendently garbed in an opulent lilac dress embroidered with irises, her pointed ears adorned with delicate looping chains festooned with glittering purple gems.

“You look so different,” I marvel.

“I’ve found success quickly here as a seamstress and designer,” she tells me before a startlingly painful series of jabs ripple over the rune. I wince harder and Sparrow’s gaze darts toward my abdomen with evident concern.

“There’s about to be quite a bit of power flying around this room,” Or’myr says before quietly directing Sparrow out for her safety, Thierren remaining. The demon-sensing rune finally gone, Sage straightens and looks to Rivyr’el.

“Are you ready?” he asks me as he lowers himself before me and suspends his silver stylus above my abdomen, my glimmering green skin now a blank slate.

I nod, and he sweeps his stylus’s tip along my stomach, fashioning the outline of a large, circular silver rune before rapidly sketching the rune’s interior—a wreath of five small runes orbiting a central silver disc. He presses the tip of his stylus to the disc and murmurs a spell.

Two of the five internal runes begin to rotate into silvery blurs. Two others begin to spin slowly while the last internal rune remains motionless.

Rivyr’el points his stylus at the blurred runes, looking to Sage. “That’s a measure of her fire-and earthlines.” He slides his stylus toward the two lazily rotating runes. “And here are her weak water-and airlines.” His stylus shifts to the motionless rune. “And here’s her dormant light power.” He gives me a sly smile. “We’re going to balance you out, Witchling, starting with water. We’ll need Fae elemental power for that. Lucky for us you have an Asrai friend.” He shoots Tierney a saucy look. “And a quite lovely one at that.”

Tierney throws him an arch look that reads,Truly, Rivyr’el?

He grins, undaunted. “If you’re in need of a Xishlon’vir tomorrow night, my offer still stands—”

“Rivyr’el,” my cousin Or’myr cuts in with a surprisingly aggravated tone. “Can you pleasenotchoose this particular moment to flirt withabsolutely anyone.”

Rivyr’el smirks at Or’myr, then sets about marking a ring of small shielding runes on my abdomen encircling the larger elemental rune. “You should try a little flirting now and then,” he croons, glancing mischievously at Or’myr. “Unless you enjoy being the lonely sorcerer in the hidden tower.” He points his stylus at one of the elemental runes, serious again. “Here, Or’myr, make yourself useful and create a pathway.”

“I rather enjoy my hidden tower,” Or’myr rejoins as he draws an amethyst from his pocket and presses it to the water rune, sounding out an Uriskal spell. A hot flare of his violet fire power surges through my lines, and I draw in a hard breath, gooseflesh rippling over my skin, the water rune’s hue shifting from silver to lavender.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“Sending a siphoning spell over the rune,” Or’myr explains, “to allow us to feed power into your waterlines.” He looks at Tierney, Trystan, and Lucretia in turn. “Ready?”

Trystan and Lucretia unsheathe their wands while Tierney steps forward, a sense of anticipation rising in me as Or’myr continues to hold his amethyst over the slowly rotating water rune. They bunch in toward me, Tierney’s body brushing against Or’myr’s as she slides into place facing him.

Or’myr’s fireline ignites with a potent rush of lightning, and I’m astonished by its strength, wondering, again, if Tierney has any inkling of her effect on my enigmatic cousin.

Or’myr swallows, reaching out to Tierney, his composure fraying. “So...um,” he stammers, “you’ll need to take my hand.”

Tierney shoots him a quizzical look, then nods and slides her hand into his.

A startlingly powerful confluence of magic hits me as Or’myr’s fire aura crackles out to meet Tierney’s water power in an invisible, heated explosion of violet steam. Their gazes lock tight, both of their eyes widening. A shiver runs through them both, the two of them seeming shocked by their magic’s heated amplification. Or’myr murmurs a spell, and they appear to get a hold of themselves as he focuses Tierney’s power into a steadier stream toward the crystal he has pressed to my abdomen.

“On my mark.” Sage holds her palm up as Trystan and Lucretia bring the tips of their wands close to Or’myr’s stone and murmur spells.“Go,”Sage orders, and their wands touch down on the amethyst.

I gasp as a hard rush of Tierney’s power storms into me at the same time I’m flooded with Trystan’s and Lucretia’s water magery. Feeling submerged in oceanic depths, everything shimmers around me and I let out a wavering breath, my waterlines strengthening until they hold as much power as my earth-and firelines.

Or’myr holds up a hand. “It’s level,” he says, the lavender water rune now rotating in a blur.

Trystan and Lucretia retract their wands and step back, along with Tierney, her eyes meeting Or’myr’s for a brief, magic-shivering moment as his violet lightning aura forks around her, and I’m surprised to sense Tierney’s Asrai power coursing out toward him in a rushing tide.

Forcibly reining in his besotted magic, Or’myr places the amethyst on the wind rune. Fain shoots me an affectionate smile as he steps forward with Thierren and they feed magic into my windlines, a tempestuous current blowing through me as my wind rune speeds to a blur.

“Your turn, Sagellyn,” Or’myr announces. He moves his stone to the motionless rune.

Light.

Sage’s violet eyes meet mine, a look of deep import on her face as she places her wand’s tip onto Or’myr’s stone, closes her eyes, and begins to sound out a series of spells.

---