weeks.”
Beth tried not to take offense at the truth. “It took me four years to light my first candle.” And in the limited contact she’d had with other fire witches, that was considered the progress of a very adept witch. “It only took fourteen months to replicate Jamie’s bubble spell. That needs a circle, though—I don’t have air and water magics.” And her circle had feeble ones, much to her frustration. Too much heat and the bubbles wouldn’t form.
“Bubble spell?”
Her holy grail. “The one where he filled a room with floating rainbow bubbles.”
“Ah.” Nell smiled. “Kenna loves those. My son did, too. He liked to chase after them when he first learned to walk. There was a stretch when I was making bubbles fourteen hours a day.”
It was a spell to amuse small children. Jamie Sullivan hadn’t shown them fancy magic—he’d treated them like toddlers. The knots in Beth’s stomach tightened. “Hours?”
“Yup.” The softness in Nell’s face said she loved her children very much. “Jamie finally managed to teach him to make his own bubbles. Saved my sanity.”
She had spent fourteen months working on a spell that could be taught to a young child.
With magic that felt shriveled and small, Beth began to assemble the lines of power she needed to attempt a fire globe. Maybe here, in this place under the sun, there would be success. And then she planned to find out what kind of spells adult witches did.
The jolt of power to her fingers was surprising. Sharp. She throttled it back quickly, conscious of the lack of safeguards in place.
“It’s okay.” Nell’s voice was quiet. “I have a training circle up. Go ahead and experiment.”
The grass was making her ankles itch terribly. Beth tried to let her power flow a little more smoothly. It felt jittery, unbalanced by sunshine and nerves and too many distractions. She teased out a small line of power, embarrassed by its unevenness.
She wasn’t a beginner witch.
“Just relax.” Her trainer lounged in the grass, bare legs and elbows apparently not at all bothered by the flora and fauna of the outdoors. “You’re trying too hard.”
In Beth’s experience, relaxing was very hard work. “I’m having trouble steadying the flows. That’s not usually a problem for me.”
“You keep them pretty throttled. When the flows are really slow, it’s easy for them to wobble.” Nell’s fire globe suddenly floated a foot up in the air and started a slow, circuitous journey through the air. “See how it gets caught by all the little air currents? If I let it speed up a little,” she said as the fire globe’s pace increased sharply, “the path gets smoother. Less bumpy.”
Beth stared in awe at the zooming ball of light.
“It’s like riding a bike.” The fire globe vanished. “It’s a lot easier to ride and stay balanced if you pick up a little speed.”
The awful weight of being different settled on Beth’s shoulders—an old, old friend. “Maybe that’s one of the reasons I never learned to ride a bike.”
“Shit.” Nell rolled up to sitting, eyes shining with mysterious messages. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not very good with speed. On a bike or in my magic.” Speed made things happen faster than her brain could process them.
“Fire magic isn’t very good at being slow.” Nell’s words were measured, careful. “Earth power handles that better, but fire kind of needs to dance.”
The weight pushed harder on Beth’s shoulders. She wasn’t a dancer, either. Too unpredictable, too complicated—God knew Liri had tried. “There must be another way to stabilize the magic.” Her dark, safe room in Chicago did the job quite nicely.
“Not that I know of.”
Jamie had found a way.
Beth hugged her knees, wanting to escape the grass and the awful feeling that her chance at a whole new world of magic was slinking