Page 41 of The Witch and The Blood Oath

While she had a point, her harsh tone meant she was worried. I glanced up. The top of the pond was impossibly far above us. If something happened to our submarine, we would need to swim for our lives.

I was a mountain guy—not a swimmer.

My magic buzzed in my ears, but I breathed through it, and my power relaxed. Finally, we closed in on the embers, and I realized they weren’t embers at all. Glowing yellow, red, and orange plants swayed gently beneath us.

“Is that moss?” Freya asked.

“Magical moss,” I replied. “For the tripping trolls. Makes sense.”

Freya shook herself. “Okay. I’ll swim out of the air pocket to collect it, then come back, and we can go to the top.”

“Whoa,” I said. “Wouldn’t it be easier for me to swim? That way, you can concentrate on keeping our submarine together?”

She searched for a reason to argue, but we both knew I was right. While I wasn’t eager to swim, I also recognized the logic of my plan.

“Fine,” Freya said, “but…be careful.”

As a memory surfaced, I grinned and threw Freya’s words to me back at her.

“Careful’s not really in my nature, witch.”

Chapter Twelve

Freya

Icocked an eyebrow at Walker.

“Really?” I said. “Didn’t we just discover the root of the problem with your magic is that you’re a littletoocareful?”

He frowned and gestured at the pocket of wind we stood in.

“Just tell me what to do,” he grumbled.

“Walk to the edge of the bubble,” I instructed, “and touch it with your hand. I’m going to have to release you without letting the whole thing collapse.”

Walker did as I told him, and I tracked his movements like a hawk. As his hand raised, I lasered in on exactly where it pressed against the bubble and tried to tunnel the air around it without leaving any gaps.

“It’s working,” he said.

Walker stretched out his arm to reach farther outside the bubble and flew back. I ducked out of the way and reinforced the bubble, so he wouldn’t pop it as he hit the other side. He flailedand slid across the bubble again, but I caught his sleeve and helped him to his feet.

I studied his wildly askew hair and ragged breath.

“Okay,” I said. “We’ll have to try that again.”

“You think?” he asked.

With even slower movements, Walker raised his hand to the swirling wind once more. I focused on his movements and imagined the air flowing around his body like a rock in a stream. Instead of trying to manhandle the element, I gave myself over to it and encouraged it to flow around Walker, rather than attempting to manipulate every molecule.

“As a witch, control is crucial.”Mom’s words rang in my head.“But the ability to give up control is just as imperative.”

I had just chastised Walker for manhandling his magic. I needed to take my own advice.

As both of Walker’s arms reached out of the bubble, he took a deep breath and held it. He pushed his entire upper body into the pond, and his legs quickly followed.

Our pocket of wind held strong.

Walker swam the short distance from the bubble to the moss. My eyes were glued to his form, and I mentally counted the seconds that passed as he held his breath. He grabbed the first clump of glowing moss, and nothing happened. I breathed a sigh of relief—I had been half-convinced it would burn him or trigger something terrible.

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