Page 43 of Roaring Spell

“Thalia keeps a journal.”

“She what?”

“Documenting your atmospheric moods. It’s her new hobby. Eternal marriage apparently leaves a lot of free time for strong opinions about romance.”

Sakura buries her face in her hands. “This is mortifying.”

“Apparently Zeph started it.”

“I’m going to kill her.”

“You’d have to get in line. Leire has first dibs for unrelated reasons.” I pause. “Something about a batch of ale that made everyone’s hair temporarily change color.”

Despite her embarrassment, she laughs. The sound loosens the tension in my chest.

“Tell me about the other towns.” The words come before I can stop them. “The ones before Mistvale.”

She’s quiet for a long moment.

“What happened?”

“The usual. Flooded a town square during a festival. Lightning struck a mayor’s house during a council meeting about whether to let me stay. Froze a water supply during a heat wave.” She wraps her arms around her knees. “My magic has spectacularly bad timing.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“It was my power.”

“Not the same thing.”

She looks at me with an intensity that makes my chest constrict. “You keep saying that.”

“Because you keep being wrong.”

Silence. Her breathing unsteady. Mine too.

“That’s...” She swallows. “That’s a lot of conviction from someone who claims stoicism as a personality trait.”

“Maybe I’m making an exception.”

“Why?”

Because you’re worth making exceptions for. Because I’ve been waiting for something without knowing I was waiting. Because I write bad poetry about your storms and I wouldn’t change a single word.

“Because you’re worth making exceptions for.”

The air between us shifts. Warm. Heavy. Electric in a way that has nothing to do with her magic.

She breaks the moment by laughing.

“What?”

“Nothing.” But she’s grinning. “Just—Leire mentioned you write poetry. I assumed she was joking.”

My stomach drops. “Leire needs to stop sharing.”

“Is it true?”

“No.”