She sensed Darcy’s presence, and knew that he felt her magic, too.
“Now release it.”
Elizabeth did as he bid. She opened the floodgates of her inner power and let go. It was a terrifying sensation, like standing on the edge of a precipice and deliberately leaping into the abyss.
For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then, she felt it. Darcy’s magic, precise, immensely powerful, reaching out, not to suppress her energy, but to engage with it. To meet it. It was like two vast, opposing currents colliding in mid-ocean, a shockwave of pure power that made the air tremble and the ground beneath her feet quake.
And then, the chaos began to coalesce.
She felt Darcy’sintentgathering the scattered threads of her wild magic, weaving them, shaping them. The air around them began to swirl, not with the uncontrolled, destructive force of her previous efforts, but with focused intensity. A miniature whirlwind danced before them, lifting dust and weeds.
“Now let us introduce water,” said Darcy, almost a whisper.
Elizabeth shifted her intent. The whirlwind subsided, and the air around them grew intensely humid. Droplets of moisture began to bead on the weeds. A fine mist gathered, swirling, and then, with a gasp from Elizabeth, a perfectly formed sphere of shimmering water, a miniature, self-contained ocean, hovered in the air between them, spinning slowly.
It was beautiful, powerful, and breathtakingly controlled.
“Let us try fire,” Darcy gritted out, his eyes narrowed in fierce concentration, his entire being focused on shaping the volatile energies they had unleashed.
Elizabeth, in awe of the terrifying dance of their combined powers, a dance she had never imagined possible, responded. She poured her fiery essence outward, that untamed core of her being.
The sphere of water hissed, steamed, and then, with a sound likefizzing, it erupted into a globe of incandescent flame. The fire burnt with an intensity that was almost unbearable, yet it was contained, a bright sun held captive.
It was magnificent. It was terrifying. It was them. Her raw, untamed power, his disciplined control, fused together, creating something new, something potent, something neither of them could have achieved alone.
The effort was immense. Elizabeth could feel her reserves draining from the energy she was expending, yet she was also aware of a connection to Darcy, a sense of his strength, his focus, supporting her. She could feel the strain on him too, the intense concentration required to maintain such precise control over such volatile forces.
For a timeless moment, they held the sphere of contained fire suspended between them, a magnificent testament to their newfound synergy.
The air around them crackled with power, with the scent of ozone, of damp earth, of acrid smoke, a potent blend of elemental forces.
And then, slowly, as if by mutual consent, they began to withdraw their energies. The sphere of fire pulsed, then gradually diminished, shrinking back into itself, until only a single, steady, perfectly formed flame, no larger than the wick of a candle, hovered in the air between them.
The silence that followed was broken only by their unsteady breathing. Elizabeth felt weak, drained, yet also strangely, exhilaratingly alive. She looked at Darcy.
He was staring at the hovering flame, his expression one of stunned awe. The cold reserve had fallen away, revealing a glimpse of the man beneath – a man capable of wonder, of astonishment, of an almost reverent respect for the power they had just wielded together.
And then, his gaze lifted, and his eyes met hers.
In that moment, something fundamental shifted between them.
It was the shared act of having touched the essence of creation itself.
Darcy was the first to break the spell, his voice almost hoarse. “I suppose that will suffice for a first attempt.”
“Suffice?” she retorted, a shaky laugh escaping her. “Mr Darcy, I believe we created an entire sun.”
“It is a decided improvement over the candle,” he said, and she laughed again, this time genuinely.
The first spark of their Concordance had, against all odds, finally, been struck.
CHAPTER TEN
Caught up in the lingering exhilaration of the previous night’s triumph, Elizabeth found herself rising later than her usual habit the next morning.
Sarah brought her a breakfast tray and the customary morning tea, along with a message from Darcy’s valet: the master was presently occupied in his study and expected to be there for much of the day. Elizabeth supposed that he must be composing his letters to the Arcane Office, detailing their latest development.
She spent a leisurely morning attending to her own neglected correspondence. Yet, as the hours wore on, a new resolve began to form within her. With Colonel Fitzwilliam now their guest, there was no reason to continue the tradition of trays delivered to their respective chambers.
