And then I spluttered as a wave crested up and crashed over me. My eyes shot open and I stared at Everly, who was trying very hard not to laugh.
She waved her hand at me and I was dry again, if a little crusty. “You need to control it with calm, and a little less power,” was the only thing she said.
Calm? That was impossible these days. And less power? I thought that had been a tiny amount I drew up. I raised my eyes to the heavens in frustration.
She burst out laughing. “I apologize, but your expression…” She stifled her laughter. “You were fighting with it. Water responds to invitations, not commands. Ask it to dance with you, don’t demand it.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The last time I asked something,someone, to dance, it did not end with me being calm and collected. Looking down into myself again, I imagined settling the whirling well of power, like a cozy blanket being thrown over it.
I can do this.
I reached my hand out over the waves and sent a request through the channel. It heard and answered. The water curved up my arm and spun around my hand. I gasped, not from the cold but a sensation of tranquility. The water felt peaceful, content to move in harmony with me. It settled around my fingers, like a layer of silk, and for the first time in weeks, my thoughts quieted. I realized this was the first time any of my channels had felt… happy. Fire constantly crackled with barely contained fury. Earth trembled with protective strength. But this? Water reminded me of something I’d forgotten could exist.
Peace.
“So what exactly is happening between you and my son?”
The words shattered the fragile calm I had constructed, replacing it instantly with a rush of panic and embarrassment. The nice, gentle wave immediately turned violent as it surged upward. This time, it drenched both of us.
I felt my cheeks burn as the seawater dripped off me.
So much for peace.
Everly calmly dried both of us again. “It seems you need to practice keeping your calm and control when confronted with obstacles,” she said mildly, although I saw a glint of mischief in her eyes.
I gritted my teeth and tried for a third time, fighting to recapture any sense of serenity. Had Griff said something to her?
The water, sensing my agitation, remained choppy beneath my hand. I pleaded silently for it to work with me. I had barely gotten it to raise to my hand when she spoke again.
“If it helps, he likes you too.”
Relief flooded through me, and the water responded, smoothing into a calm ripple that crested toward my hand. It performed a little motion, as if it was waving, before I gently released it back into the ocean.
And then it occurred to me. She had meant Griff, right?
It wasone of the best days I’d had in a long time—even with Everly drilling me over and over again with the water channel. And her confusing comments. I was starting to realize where the twins had gotten their taskmaster mentalities. But the more I experienced their family interactions, the more I wished I was part of their family. Both Griff and Finn had an easiness with their mother that I envied. She was the perfect mixture of teasing, comforting, and stern when it called for it. She adopted me into the mix as if I had always been there. She taught me about the various activities that Maraleth did to celebrate Ignistar. The celebrations weren’t nearly as elaborate as they would be six months from now, for Merlaine, the midsummer celebration for the water goddess Voda. The winter solstice was a quieter affair, spent with family rather than a rambunctious party that took over the entire town. I had hope that I could convince the twins to bring me back here for Merlaine. It sounded chaotic, but only in the best way.
We ate dinner outside as the sun set. Oranges, reds, and yellows painted the sky, transitioning into purple, until the sun finally settled below the horizon. Finn and Griff had dug a pit in the sand and filled it with driftwood. Everly had supplied the twins with a pot full of seafood that they’d placed directly in the fire I provided. I originally viewed it with skepticism, this food that came in shells and took some work to eat, but was soon converted. It was delicious. Apparently, it was a common meal here, and something the twins had grown up loving but couldn’t get at the castle. They paired it with a local white wine that brought out the crispness of theseafood. The wine kept flowing as all three of them entertained me during dinner, telling stories of them growing up. Finn kept us laughing as he regaled us with their antics, some of them stories Everly had yet to hear.
“And then,” Finn was saying, “Griff managed to convince them that it hadn’t been us at all, that they were mistaken and there was certainly no way we could have been in two places at once.”
Everly wiped her eyes. “This was before everyone knew you were a teleporter?”
Griff grinned ruefully, leaning back and stretching out his legs, accidentally brushing mine in the process. “Back when, in my anonymity, I could accomplish so much more.”
“And then there was the time that Griff?—”
Griff clamped a hand over his brother’s mouth. “They really don’t need to hear that story.”
Finn roared with laughter and opened his mouth again.
“If you tell it,” Griff started in a warning tone, “then I’m telling?—”
Their eyes locked over the table.
Finn promptly shut his mouth, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Truce.”
“Have they always been like this?” I asked Everly.
