“Max,” Rían said, far more amused than he had any right to be. “Relax. By the time I’m done here, you won’t have to worry about destroying anything unless you really try.”
He wasn’t sure how much he could trust Rían, but Lukas trusted him enough to bring him here, and Caius and Quinn trusted Lukas. “Promise?”
“Absolutely.” Rían gathered up the strings, shoved them back into the jar, and set it on the floor as Niamh swooped past and dropped a couple of stones into it. “You get a feel for your magic. I need to put at least basic warding on the rest of the house.”
“Sure.” Max stretched out on the sofa, holding the device over his head as his sugar glider settled below his throat. The soft vibrations of purring soothed an ache inside him. He’d always wanted a pet, but this was so much better. For the first time in his life, he felt something close to safe.
For the next couple of hours, he was content to play with the training device. Once he was convinced he couldn’t blow it up or lose control of his flames while holding it, he concentrated on pouring more of his magic into it. The silver ball shot to the top of the cylinder and stayed there as he pushed more and more. His hands warmed and the metal brightened with a hint of a glow, and still there was an inferno inside him that seemed inexhaustible.
It was terrifying.
Even in the movies, the hero always hit a limit. Rían had seemed tired after warding one room.
Max hadn’t felt drained even after his fire tornado. How the hell was he supposed to keep an endless sea of flames in check for the rest of his life?
The metal absorbed more and more heat, the entire circle growing warm. When it turned bright and hot enough to threaten to bend beneath his fingers, hefinallyfelt the flames sputter inside him. The silver ball dipped lower with the fluctuation, and he pulled back, grinning as the ball responded and slid to the bottom.
He lost track of time as he moved the ball up and down. Even with magical exhaustion setting in, it was still too easy to send the ball all theway to the top, but he could finally feel the edges of his limits. And he could see which mental muscles were needed for control of power and shape and size. It wasn’t much, but having something to work with was more than he’d had before.
By the time Quinn called him down for lunch, he’d managed to hold the ball between the lines for a full minute. He rolled off the couch with a hum, cradling his familiar to his chest as he headed to the kitchen, feeling lighter than he had in years.
He slid into a chair at the table, not surprised in the least when Quinn set a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich in front of him, sans bacon. Rían sat across from him, eyeing his own sandwich like it was the strangest thing he’d ever seen.
Quinn dropped into the seat next to Max. “So, Lukas says you’re Irish.”
Rían glanced up with an expression of wary amusement. “Yeah.”
“Yeah? What clan? I’m Quinn Faoil.”
He shook his head with a soft laugh. “Of course you are.” He picked a piece of avocado off his sandwich and offered it to Niamh before answering. “Rían Fáidh.”
Max picked out some avocado and tomato for his sugar glider, stifling his laughter over Quinn’s thickening accent. When Quinn didn’t respond, he glanced over to find him gaping at Rían, rolling his eyes as he reached over and pushed Quinn’s open mouth closed.
Quinn snapped out of it and sat up straight. “Feck off! You’re not a descendant of the Tuatha Dé Danann!”
Rían shrugged and took a large bite of his sandwich.
“What’s the tooth de den?” Max asked with a wince as he butchered the pronunciation.
“Legendary gods of Ireland, and the source of the fae myths,” Quinn said, still staring at the other mage like he was one of those gods himself.
“Sorry, what?” It was Max’s turn to stare at Rían, waiting for him to roll his eyes or tell them that of course gods and myths weren’t real, but he remained silent as he continued eating.
Max dropped his sandwich, feeling dizzy at the thought that he was about to have another world-changing revelation. “Please tell me mythical creatures aren’t real.”
“Hey,” Quinn said, more than a little offended.
Max waved him off. “You don’t count. We’ve known shifters existed as long as mages have,” he said. “I mean, unicorns and shit aren’t real. Right?” He shot Rían a pleading look.
Rían sighed, licking a smear of avocado off his fingers. “Not anymore. Mostly.”
He let out a strangled sound and pressed his face into his hands. “Mostly?”
“I’ve run into some strange things in the deep, untouched parts of the wilderness, but most of the shite I clean up is made by humans, shifters, or mages. Or some combination of the three. Never seen a unicorn, and as far as I know, I’ve never met a fae. But I haven’t been back home since I was ten.”
Rían shoved the last bit of sandwich in his mouth and chewed as he studied Max. “You shouldn’t have to worry about any of that anyway. You’re too old for the Order to brainwash, and you’re bound to three shifters,” he said with a quick, disapproving slant to his lips and glance at Quinn. “Which, by the way, is not helping with your control over your magic. One shifter bond is bad enough. Three and you’re literally playing with fire.
“I’ll have to make some charms and amulets for you. Be sure to wear them, especially whenever you leave the house.”
