I extend my hand and think of heat. A spark of blue light flickers over my palm, then grows into an orb of flame. I’m about to reach inside the fireplace to set the flame down like I did by the weapons room, but I stop myself. I’ve seen both Aspen and Fehr summon light over sconces in an instant; surely, I can do something similar with a hearth fire. I narrow my eyes at the orb of flame, willing it to transport from my hand to the hearth. All it does is flicker in my palm.
I clench my jaw. How in the name of iron do I move a flame from one space to another, without simply transferring it by touch?
I’m suddenly reminded of Queen Estel and her power over time and space. Lorelei had explained it’s the Star Court’s affinity with the air element that gives her such an ability. Ustrin must have mastered at least a portion of air, considering he was able to send an orb of flame straight to Selene Palace. But how can I use the ability myself?
I close my eyes, recalling what little I know of the air element. I remember my first visit to the Twelfth Court, the ethereal, windblown pixie I met there.We get along well,she’d said.Thought. Intellect.How do I use either of those things to move my flame? Surely, I can’tthinkit into moving.
What else do I know about air?
An instinctual nudge calls my attention to my firefox form. As soon as I give in to the train of thought, my body relaxes. Through my unseelie form, everything comes so much more naturally. My intellect is bound to my instincts, data is filtered at rapid speeds and turns into usable information. I call upon my inner firefox, ask how else she relates to air, aside from what goes on in her head. She shows me an image of me running through the woods, my paws taking me across vast stretches of land. Smooth, swift travel. Then she shows an image of me leaping from a tree to a boulder, then to another tree, gaining height with my momentum.
In that moment, it’s clear to me. I can see how it all connects, how the elements weave together in everything I do. The way air meets earth in a strange and magical dance that creates gravity, acceleration, travel, motion.
With this awareness filling every part of my being, I will the fire to leave my hand and light inside the hearth. A sudden burst of heat pulls my eyes open.
There it is. My fire.
I watch the flame as it shifts from blue to orange, roaring quietly inside the fireplace. Sweat beads at my brow, dripping into my eyes, but it isn’t from the heat. It’s from the feat of concentration I just pulled, although I hardly realized I was doing it until it was done.
“You’ve grown so powerful with your magic,” Amelie says, startling me from my awe.
A blush creeps up my cheeks. I shouldn’t have let her see that. My gaze turns steely as I return to the bed where Amelie appears to have constructed several makeshift dresses from the bright fabrics. How she managed to do such a thing without a single stitch is beyond me.
She lifts a gown of flowing silk in a deep golden hue. “This one is fit for a queen,” she says. My breath catches as she rounds the bed and approaches me with it. “Let me show you how it’s worn.”
I tense with every step she takes. Part of me wants to refuse to allow her close enough to help me dress, but I doubt I’ll be able to figure out how to don the strange garment myself. With a sigh of resignation, I strip off my robe, and she drapes a swath of long, golden silk over my shoulders to drape over each breast down to the floor. Then she takes a separate piece of the same cloth and wraps it around my waist, tying it off just above my hips to form a skirt. The end result is light, breathable, and surprisingly elegant.
Amelie steps back to admire her work. “You make it look even more beautiful than I imagined.” With a grin, she returns to the bed to pick out her own dress.
“How did you do this?” I ask, unable to suppress my curiosity as I stare down at the smooth silk. “You’ve never made a dress in your life.”
“I examined the style of the others and made one like those, but more regal,” she says. I’m about to return to sorting through the dresses, but after seeing what Amelie created, it seems futile. Silence falls between us again as I mindlessly push the dresses from one side of the bed to the other. Then Amelie says, “How do you make fire? Do you simply wish for flame and it happens?”
I press my lips into a tight line, debating if I should remain silent. Somehow though, this dress she’s made has softened something inside me, for better or for worse. “I can conjure many forms of fire through intent, but the first time was an accident.” There’s much I leave unsaid with that statement, primarily the fact that I was with Mother when it occurred.“I was angry, and it just happened.”
She meets my eyes with a curious gaze. “Is that what helps you create fire? Anger?”
“Anger, rage, passion. There are many emotions that can spark it, but those are most natural for me.”
Her expression turns to steel, hands wringing around the cloth she holds, lips pursed so tightly, they turn white. “I’ve felt more rage than I can stand, and I’ve never summoned so much as a spark, accident or no.”
A flash of heat goes through me. I doubt she’s felt anything close to my rage. Still, I keep that to myself, my own curiosity taking over. “You’ve been underwater, correct?”
“Cobalt had me locked in our bedroom in the coral caves.” Her tone is cold, and I think I hear a hint of a tremble.
“An attack by water weakens fire,” I explain. “There’s a possibility that your proximity to water stifled any chance of recognizing your power.”
She furrows her brow. “So, you think I could have the same gifts you do?”
I give a halfhearted shrug. “It’s possible.”
She lifts her palm, eyes narrowing to slits as she examines it. A hateful grin, one so unlike anything I’ve seen her wear, pulls at her lips.
My body is frozen as I watch her, trying to make sense of—
A red flame bursts over her open hand.
13
