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Even the way he says my name, with that slight twang. Harper clenched her fists until her nails dug into the soft flesh of her palm. “Stop behaving like a lovesick girl,” she snapped at herself. This wasn’t like the tanner. She couldn’t indulge. There was far too much at stake for her, and she was already perilously out of her depth. “Coming,” she called and hurried back to camp, wrapping her cloak around her as if she could banish such treacherous thoughts along with the cold.
“Ragnar said it’s my turn to make the fire today,” Aedon said, scrunching up his face and glaring in the direction of Ragnar’s still resting lump close by, sticking out his tongue. “But it gives me an opportunity to show you how to use magic to make fire. Want to learn?”
“Yes!” Harper suddenly didn’t feel cold anymore, but heated with excitement at the prospect.
Aedon smiled and directed her to build the fire as they always would. “There’s really no shortcut for that,” he mused. Once she was done, he nodded. “Okay. Now’s the fun part. Hold your hands over the wood, like this.”
He demonstrated, grasping her hands and holding them above the fire, as if she were warming her palms on invisible flames. As she did, he shifted, moving behind her and fitting his body flush to hers. She tensed, suppressing an inhalation of surprise and trying to banish the tingles that spread down her arms as his palms covered her hands.
“I’m going to share my magic with you. Don’t be alarmed.”
She shivered as his warm breath brushed the nape of her neck, making something swoop low and deep within her, but she could not hold in the gasp at what happened next. It was a feeling she would not later be able to describe. An energy rushed through her, cold and hot, tingling and smooth, sending every nerve ending into overdrive.
“That’s magic, as it ought to feel.” She heard the smile in his voice. Energy rushed through her, sparking from her fingertips and arcing toward the fire. It was both there and not there, an ethereal light that disappeared when she tried to focus on it. An instant later, the fire sprang to life before her. She scrambled back, pushing into Aedon’s chest at the surprise of its intensity and the sudden onslaught of heat.
He caught them both from falling and laughed, steadying her with his warm hands on her arms. “How was that?”
“Magical,” she breathed out. “How?”
He cocked his head. “You have to summon the magic, but when you know how, that’s instinctive. I can teach you. You’ll accumulate magic like a spring accumulates water. Eventually, it’ll be happily bubbling away for you to draw on whenever you please.”
“He’s showing off,” Brand quipped.
“Well, it’s true. We’re born of magic, and magic is born of us. But perhaps you might need to learn it the hard way.” Aedon flashed her a grin. “Soon, it’ll be as natural as breathing to you, Harper.” He clapped his hands. “Right. Ragnar, how about breakfast now?” He grabbed a stick and poked the dwarf, who sprang from his bedding like Aedon had poked a sleeping bear—loud, displeased, and grizzly. Ragnar chased the elf around camp, shouting obscenities in a language she did not understand. Harper cackled as she ducked out of their way.
“Bloody elf!” Ragnar grumbled. “I was having a lovely dream. Warm hearth, proper bed…” He sighed.
“You can dream about it again tonight, Ragnar,” Harper said, grinning. “But for now, breakfast. I spotted some berries. Want me to fetch them?”
Ragnar’s face brightened at that. “Thanks, Miss Harper. You’re a good help. Brew a tea when you return. I’ll prepare the food.”
Harper dashed off to collect the crimson berries and set to making a tea, whilst Erika and Brand rose, completed their morning training, and patrolled the area as the mists burned away to reveal a rolling, grassy plain before them.
Aedon was nowhere to be seen, but he soon returned with some larger fruits. He tossed them toward Ragnar, who caught them with surprisingly sharp reflexes, though his fingers struggled to close around the furry, bumpy surfaces. Aedon bowed theatrically. “By way of apology for waking you up, dear sir.”
Ragnar grunted in reply and sent a stinging glare Aedon’s way, still looking unimpressed.
“Your first lesson of the day,” Aedon whispered to Harper as he passed her. “Never wake a sleeping dwarf, for they shall resent you ‘til the end of time.”
Harper stifled a smile. “Tea’s ready, everyone.”
“Good. I’m dying for a drink,” Brand said, taking the pot. “Ladies first.”
He offered it to Erika, who took it with a nod of thanks and brought it to her lips. She took a gulp, then immediately spat it out, showering them all in globules of spit and hot liquid.
“Idiot!” she snarled, whirling on Harper. “Why on earth would you make a tea of sun-damson berries?”
The camp stilled as they all turned to Harper. “What? I…”
“They’re poisonous, you foolish girl! You could have killed us all!” Erika tossed the entire pot onto the fire, almost extinguishing it in a hissing plume of smoke, and dashed to the stream to rinse out her mouth.
“I didn’t know,” mumbled Harper. The berries and the plant looked just like ones she brewed in Caledan—perfectly safe to consume. “I’m sorry.”
Ragnar patted her shoulder. “It’s all right, Harper. Don’t worry about it. I ought to have checked. You don’t know the flora and fauna here. All’s well that ends well—no one was hurt.”
“Lucky that Brand’s a gentleman,” drawled Aedon. “If he’d have quaffed it all himself, he’d have paid the price.”
Brand swatted at Aedon, who dodged out of the way. “I’d have known.”
