Page 37 of Elemental Affections

Dae flapped her wrist at him. “Yea, yea, I caught up there at the end. Aren’t you a gentleman.”

“Not a prince?”

Dae snorted. They reached a crossroads, one path leading toward the faculty housing of Belle Complex, the other to a small gate that let out to a side road down to the lake.

They both hesitated, then Ezzyn turned away. “I hope your feeling is successful.”

“Thanks.” Dae took a few steps toward the gate. Stopped. “Unless, did you want to come?”

He regarded her in silence, indecision writ large across his face. Turmoil. Desire battling with better sense. Dae almost broke the tense quiet, nervousness making her palms sweat. She didn’t; she waited, keeping the spring of hope buried deep at the back of her mind where she couldn’t question what it might mean.

Ezzyn rejoined her. His mouth opened, but instead of something pithy or smooth, he paused for a long moment, finally uttering a simple, “Yes.”

They made the short trek to the lake, the conversation an easy back and forth about classes and the university itself. Ezzyn had no shame in admitting that Sylveren outclassed the schools of Rhell. Not that saying so was a grand admission; Sylveren was the premier place of magical study this side of the Great Sea, thanks to the power of its wellspring and the favor the valley enjoyed from the Child’s lingering presence. Rhell had excellent focus programs in earth studies, and across the sea in the Radiant Isles they had enviable opportunities for water elementalist work. But Sylveren and the Valley were special. Dae had enjoyed her time at Grae University well enough, but she didn’t miss it, either. Yet even with less than a year in this place, she knew she would carry a fondness for it always.

She stopped at the water’s edge, lifting her face to the oft-present wind. They enjoyed a break in the rain, the air still alive with a whisper of moisture. It pulled at her senses, something in her mind lighting up to feel so much water. She raised her hand, wrist performing a slow twirl. Dewy strands gathered in the air, curling around her fingers.

She dismissed the trace of magic with a gentle dashing motion. If she concentrated hard enough, listened with a quiet mind, she could hear the hum of magic all around. Feel how the lake itself was alive with latent power. The echo of it reverberated in her center, in the tiny sphere where her magic beat like a second, smaller heart.

Ezzyn watched her, his expression intent. Captivated.

“What?” Dae said, self-conscious. Her eyes went back to the water as she pushed an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s my first time coming out here.”

His brows went up, expression sliding back to relaxed. “We’ve been here for six weeks already.”

It was her turn for a calm shrug. “I’ve been busy. Some of us have to work at this.”

“It’ll come.” He toed at the rocky stretch of shore where they stood. “You have a general feel for your magic. The book learning will sort itself out with time.”

“How can you tell?”

He raised his hand and made a similar gesture as she had, summoning a thread of flame instead of water. He dismissed it with a wave. “Intuitive. Some people can only do that if they follow the instructions of a spell telling them exactly what they should feel, and even then, only if the instructions happen to make sense to them. I’m not saying direction won’t help, but you don’t need it to do magic.”

Dae didn’t share his confidence. He didn’t have a large body of fire at his fingertips to pull from. He’d called it using his own energy as the source. On a drier day, away from the lake, she might not have been able to pull water from thin air at all. That was Professor-Vaadt-level of skill. Most times, Dae felt barely above the kind of mage that could only summon a touch of light to their fingers.

“Sometimes,” she murmured, shy and a little sad, “I’m worried it’s too late. That I’m too old to be trying to do—” What? Not simply magic. Not even the academics part—her path wasn’t common, but returning to school wasn’t unheard of. Dae wasn’t a trailblazer in that regard. But she’d wanted more than to further herself. Dared to dream big.

“Do?” Ezzyn said, drawing out the word, tone encouraging.

“Good.” Her smile was closer to a wince. “Something good. Even if not grand, prove that I can make something of myself that is more than my family’s name. Ridiculous, right? No real schooling, and I’m not a prodigy. It’s too late, isn’t it? I’m going to be thirty soon—”

“Gods all break, not that,” Ezzyn said dryly. “I’m thirty-four. Don’t get the shovel out just yet.”

She glowered at him. “Says he of three tiers of Magister’s levels.”

“Technically only two since—”

Dae flicked her fingers at him, pulling a splash of water from the air.

He laughed, vaporizing her attack with a pinching motion and a brief lick of flame. “When you have a moment from carrying the world on your ancient shoulders, grandmother,” he said, “I’m curious what your feeling about the lake was.”

Dae pondered a moment. Tried to recall the gossamer-thin thought that Zhenya’s chatter had evoked. It wasn’t there, still too unformed in the whirlpool of Dae’s mind. A slurry of words that hadn’t yet coalesced to form a discrete idea.

She faced the lake, letting the tacit water magic lap at her senses. “What does it feel like in Rhell? Magic.”

There was a universality to the nature of water wherever she went, a familiarity that was inherent to the element. Water was water was water. Yet there was an undercurrent to its presence in her mind, a soft note that felt distinct to the Valley. It was the sensation of the wind on her face, the scent of rain, of so much gray but also green. It was all so lush, bundled into a calmness that she registered on some level as being the unique signature of the Valley itself. Inherently different from the brine and bustling feel of Grae Port’s harbor.

Ezzyn didn’t speak for a moment. Dae turned back to him, but he was gazing out across the valley toward the Gyo-Sohn mountains forming the border with Rhell.

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