“Does that hurt?” Marek asks.
“You haven’t done anything yet.” Sei lifts his chin. “Stop stalling.”
Marek isn’t really stalling. He’s just figuring out the best approach. Bonding with Loska was instinctive. Learning Dire magic was harder, but Marek had Imrik to guide him. He recalls his father’s early instructions.
Visualization can guide magic, Imrik explained. Don’t let it become a crutch, because magic is capable of far more than human eyes can comprehend. But it helps in the beginning, before power becomes instinct.
Marek imagines reaching into Sei’s chest. Just above Sei’s heart. Marek’s real hands remain wrapped around Sei’s, but in his mind, his fingertips trail across the surface of the quiet water.
Power pours into him. Pure, exhilarating power.
Before Marek can pull away, Sei grabs him tighter. Marek exhales and remains seated as his soul staggers against the rushing water. His own magic hungers, eager to feed new energy into his never-ending storm. Marek grits his teeth and imagines pulling his hand from the water.
The surge diminishes to a trickle, then vanishes. Only tiny droplets of Sei’s magic cling to Marek’s. For a moment, they remain distinct. Then with a reflexive shiver, Sei’s power assimilates completely into his.
There’s none of the struggle Marek expected. He didn’t have to fail before getting it right. Before Sei’s magic melted into the storm.
Using the tiniest drop of magic, Marek pushes the rain away.
He just wants a dry space large enough to enclose two people. Yet with Sei’s magic igniting his, the barrier rushes to cover the entire clearing. Stillness sweeps over the clearing, the barely noticeable patter of raindrops shifting. Overhead, rain lands in midair, then slides towards the edges of the clearing.
“It worked.” Sei stares upwards. “We did this together.”
“How do you feel?” Marek asks.
“Amazing.” Sei laughs and rises to his feet. He spins around, his delight filling the entire clearing.
The spell is simple. Marek could have done this under his own power—but it would be more difficult. Now, he barely has to concentrate to hold the barrier firm. Rain lashes harder overhead, and not a drop gets through.
Sei whirls to face him. “Thank you. That was amazing. Can we do it again?”
“Of course,” Marek answers without thinking. As the rain intensifies overhead, Marek runs his fingers through Sei’s hair and concentrates.
Grail magic jumps even more easily between them this time. So easily it scares Marek—and Sei’s dark lashes flutter.
Marek tries to focus beyond the giddy taste of Sei’s magic. “Talk to me.”
“Nothing bad,” Sei says. “This just feels so much better than when the guildmasters tested me.”
Marek suddenly, viscerally hates every guildmaster who has ever touched Sei before. How dare they lay hands on him?
The well of Sei’s power truly seems endless. Marek knows it isn’t. But fuck, Marek has never felt so much magic in one place before. Like a mountain’s worth of scalestone—all contained in one slight, fragile body.
Marek is wing-marshal of the Draskoran dragon corps. He enlisted half a lifetime ago. Military strategy seeps into his every instinct, and his mind leaps to the possibilities.
Sei’s magic would be damned useful against wraiths.
Against anything.
Marek shoves the thought away. Not now. All that matters now is the joy in Sei’s eyes. Marek takes what Sei offers and flings their magic skyward.
Clouds slice apart. A thousand dark ribbons race away, until the sky above is crystal blue. Sunlight scatters through the shower of abandoned rain.
“It’s beautiful,” Sei says.
Marek isn’t done yet. He hasn’t let go of the clouds, because he’s not irresponsible enough to unleash stray magical storms on the local weather patterns. Next, he draws them together again, feeding them into a single, twisting column. He shapes the winds far too slowly for a true tornado. This is a clearly unnatural monument, and Marek has never had such precise control over the sky.
What should he do with it? Marek could write Sei’s name overhead. Maybe draw something. A dragon or a fellcat? Though Marek’s artistic skills aren’t very—
