“Scare me away from her?”
“If you knew losing control of your fire magic might be part of falling in love with her.”
“I’m not—”
Father lifts his brows.
Breathing out slowly, Cerian looks down at his hands. He is falling in love with her. But somehow, being that close to Arisanna seems far less terrifying than it once did.
“So this loss of control...is normal?” Cerian asks.
“For some fire wielders. It is in our family.”
Cerian looks up at that. “Our family?”
“If you believe you’re mortified, imagine how I felt approaching your grandmother with the same questions you have now.”
Grandmera? Whistling wind. Suddenly, speaking to Father doesn’t sound so bad.
“So let me guess,” Father says. “Your palms are tingling a lot?”
Cerian nods, not meeting Father’s gaze.
“And you occasionally shoot fireballs without meaning to?”
When Cerian tries to nod again, he can’t. The magic won’t let him.
That part happened in the heartlanding. Of course he can’t discuss it.
“I don’t want to hurt her,” Cerian whispers, his voice barely audible even to his own ears.
“That’s why I’m going to help you, all right? So no one gets hurt.”
After taking a deep breath, Cerian nods. “What do I do?”
“You need to use your fire magic. A lot. Visit the arena. Work it out of you until your palms don’t grow warm every time she looks your way.”
Don’t run. Don’t run.
“You’re doing fine,” Father says softly. “Remember why you’re here, and we’ll get through this together, all right?”
Reluctantly, Cerian nods again. This is for Arisanna.
“What else?” he asks.
“Water.”
Cerian looks up in surprise. “Water?”
“Yes, water. Rain. A waterfall. The sea or a lake. I don’t know where your heartlanding takes you, but if there’s water, use it.”
Cerian shakes his head. “I don’t understand. I’m not a water wielder.”
Father laughs. “You don’t need to be a water wielder to go in the water. Together.”
Whistling wind. Now would be a good time to run.
Arisanna’s face dances before his eyes, though, and he forces himself not to move.
