The blunt statement landed like a stone in still water. Everyone went quiet.
“You helped him,” Narla continued, her voice steady and sure. “You kept him alive until the healers arrived. Your magic isn’t the problem, Cassia.”
“She’s right.” Delos propped himself up higher against his pillows, wincing only slightly.
“But I’m not sure we can control it for long.” Cassia set down her untouched tea, frustration bleeding into her voice. “Every time Aero has gotten near me, my magic goes haywire. We caused a hailstorm just by touching hands. We cracked windows with a kiss. How am I supposed to help fight Nerissa when I can’t even be in the same room as him without causing property damage?”
“That’s not lack of control.” Junie perched on the arm of Narla’s chair, her eyes bright with the particular gleam she got when she was about to say something either brilliant or chaotic. “That’s compatibility. Your magic responds to his because you’re meant to be with him.”
“Junie—”
“I’m serious. Leo and I blew up a potion cabinet the first time we kissed. Avine and Theo’s bond made the wardstones glow for three days straight. Dahlia and Cal’s claiming nearly set the bakery on fire.” Junie spread her hands. “Magical compatibility isn’t subtle. It’s messy and explosive and occasionally destructive. But it’s not a flaw.”
“The surge is making it worse,” Cassia argued. “My power was already unstable before Aero arrived. Now it’s?—”
“Responding to something it recognizes.” Dahlia took Cassia’s hands, her grip warm and steady. “I spent years waiting for Cal to realize he’d made a mistake—that I was more burden than partner.” Her smile was soft with memory. “He didn’t ask me to be less. He just loved all of it. Every overwhelming, excessive, too-much part of me.”
“That’s what you deserve too,” Avine added quietly. “Someone who doesn’t want you diminished. Someone who sees your storms and calls them beautiful instead of dangerous.”
“The weather doesn’t make you dangerous, Cassia.” Narla’s dark eyes held hers. “It makes you powerful. There’s a difference.”
Cassia’s throat tightened. She’d been bracing for judgment—for the carefully worded suggestions that she leave town until the crisis passed, that her presence was a liability, that she was too volatile to trust in a fight. Instead, her friends sat around her like a shield wall, refusing to let her retreat into self-blame.
“You’re all being annoyingly supportive,” she managed. “It’s very inconvenient for my self-pity spiral.”
“That’s what we’re here for.” Junie grinned. “Crushing self-pity spirals since forever.”
A knock at the door interrupted them. Beck moved to answer it, his protective stance easing slightly when he recognized the visitor.
Rosemary Reed stepped into the room, clipboard in hand, and her auburn hair escaping from a practical ponytail. Junie’s cousin had the harried look of someone who’d been coordinating logistics for two days straight.
“Sorry to interrupt.” She glanced around the room, taking in the gathering with raised eyebrows. “I just needed to update youon the harbor evacuations. The fishing cooperative is being… resistant.”
“They don’t want to move their boats?” Avine asked.
“They don’t want to believe a tsunami is coming. Half of them think the weather anomalies are just—” Rosemary made air quotes. “Natural surge effectsthat will pass on their own.”
“Can’t imagine where they got that idea,” Cassia muttered.
“I’m handling it. Just wanted you to know we might need to invoke emergency protocols if they don’t cooperate by tomorrow.” Rosemary’s gaze drifted to Beck for a moment before she looked away. “How’s the patient?”
“Milking it for all the attention he can get,” Beck said dryly.
“I deserve it,” Delos countered. “I took a water construct to the wing. That earns me at least a week of sympathy.”
Rosemary’s lips twitched. “I’ll let you get back to your… meeting.” She nodded to the group and slipped out.
Cassia watched Beck watch her leave, noting the way his expression shuttered the moment the door closed. He didn’t say anything. Neither did she.
“Life’s too short,” Delos said quietly, to no one in particular. “Even for dragons. Don’t waste it on things you’re too scared to say.”
The words hung in the air, heavier than they should have been. Cassia thought about all the things she hadn’t said. To her mother before she died. To the men who’d left because she was too much. To Aero, in those stolen moments between crises when she could feel the words building in her chest but couldn’t quite force them out.
“On that note,” Avine stood, brushing invisible crumbs from her lap, “I think our patient needs rest. We can continue this therapy session later.”
“I’m not tired,” Delos protested.
“You’ve been awake for six hours after nearly dying. You’re exhausted.” Avine’s tone brooked no argument. “Sleep. Doctor’s orders.”
