“That’s because you distracted me. Not because I controlled it.”
“Maybe that’s the key to controlling it,” Griffin suggests. “Get your mind off it. Stop being scared.”
“Because it’s always that easy,” I say tartly.
Before he can answer, the others surround us.
“What just happened?” Leading Panotii behind his own mount, Kato watches me with a crease between his brows, his blue eyes dark with concern.
“Well…” I say with exaggerated patience. “It’s called kissing. I won’t offer to demonstrate, but I can probably find a number of women who will, although”—I look around at the acres of swaying grass, the wind-tossed lake, and the lonely hovel—“probably not right now.”
Kato grunts, a spark of humor brightening his eyes. “Because that’s exactly what I meant.”
“I know!” I flick what’s left of my windblown braid over my shoulder. “I’m uncanny like that.”
Flynn doesn’t crack a smile, although I get one from Kato and Carver.
“There was lightning all over you,” the auburn-haired warrior says. “Not just your hands.”
I shrug, not nearly as unconcerned as I’m trying to appear. “There’s a bright side to everything. My own lightning doesn’t burn off my clothes.”
“When was the last time you were this close to the Ice Plains?” Griffin asks.
Turning my head, I scan the landscape, hauntingly familiar despite my only having been here once before. My eyes stop on the Chaos Wizard’s modest dwelling. “A long time ago. But when I was younger, I was near the Ice Plains a lot, and I never turned into a walking storm. Ios was the first time.”
“Doesn’t magic mature?” Carver asks. “So tiny Magoi aren’t running around setting off earthquakes and floods and fires?”
I chuckle. “That’s a good point, especially for Elemental Magic. It doesn’t usually manifest until later—early teens or so—and even then, it still needs to grow. The stronger it is, the longer it takes.” I think about the ichor in my blood, about the thunder and lightning in my veins. But I’m not an Elemental, so what is this?
I look at the dilapidated house again. I’ll bet the Chaos Wizard knows.
As if my thoughts summoned him, a man steps out onto the porch, leaving the front door ajar. Anxiety shoots through me. He’s just a form in the distance for now, but I recall every detail about him. Tall and willowy thin. Worn white robes and a twisted staff, the sacred olive wood shiny and black with age. Stringy hair, entirely gray and reaching well beyond his waist, contradicted by a face that doesn’t look a day over thirty. Smooth skin, not particularly tanned. Stained fingertips on his right hand, as if he spends his days grinding herbs between them. I remember him as if our last encounter were yesterday, just like I remember his terrifying words, resonating voice, and swirling eyes.
Nerves claw a hole in my stomach. That man knows too much about me, things I don’t want to hear, or think about, or tell Griffin. Ever.
Taking a deep breath, I gather Panotii’s reins from Kato. It galls me to do it, but I need to say something before we approach the wizard. “Even if the wizard points us toward the Ipotane, without any offensive magic, we have very little chance of making it off the Ice Plains alive. I have a hiccup of Dragon’s Breath in me. Without more, or something equally useful, Piers might be right.” And the Gods know it makes me want to vomit to admit it. “Maybe we should go home and rely on the army.”
“Or you absorb the magic of whatever creatures we come up against,” Flynn suggests. “They attack. You steal. We fight back.”
“I second that plan.” Like he’s already itching for a fight, Carver sweeps his fingers over the hilt of his sword, a nimble dance of flesh on steel.
I shake my head. “It’s not always that simple. Cyclopes are colossal and swing a battering ram of a fist. I can’t steal that. It’s not magic. One kick from a Centaur, and your entire rib cage will implode. Then there are the Gorgons. Medusa could show up anywhere. And Harpies and Giants and Dragons. They’re all magical creatures, but that doesn’t mean they alwaysusemagic. Theyaremagic. And they’re a lot bigger and meaner than any of us.”
“I don’t know, Cat.” Kato looks me up and down, his long blond hair flying on the wind. The teasing sparkle in his eyes takes the sting from his words. “You can be pretty mean sometimes. In terms of size, though…” He winces.
Carver nods his agreement. “Cat is small and weak.”
I swing the evil eye back and forth between the two of them. Compared to the Minotaur-like men of Beta Team, I am small and weak, which means Carver can get away with this nonsense without frying me with a lie.
“So glad you’re taking this seriously,” I grumble.
“What? Life and death?” Flynn shrugs. “Bah!”
“Been there a dozen times,” Kato says casually, pretending to buff his nails against his leather breastplate. The idiot.
I glare at all of them, especially Carver. “I amnotsmall and weak.”Well, small maybe. And weak only if they decide to wrestle me.“I have other skills.”
Carver eyes me contemplatively for a moment. “You could fit in Griffin’s pocket. Well, maybe not your hair.”
