by Ella M. Lee
Nicolas raised an eyebrow. “Well. Hopefully we will be gathering on better terms this time.”
“Are we on trial?” Chandra asked.
“It’s unclear,” Nicolas said. “I’m trying to figure that out. Once the formal invitation comes from Sky, we’ll know more. The location, safeguards, agenda, and attendance list will tell us a lot about whether we are being met respectfully, fearfully, or like criminals. For now, I’m going to consider it good news. It means we can finally break our limbo. And if the outcome is favorable, it would mean we can all relax without as much fear of retaliation.”
“Should we be preparing?” Sylvio asked.
“Not quite yet,” Nicolas said. “Let’s give it a couple of days, let the invitation come. I can talk to Sky more freely after that—or Ryan can. He is on better terms with them. From there, we can strategize. Fiona, Ryan, and I will likely all have to attend the conclave.”
I swallowed. I hated being in social situations like that, among people who were leagues older and more powerful than I was. Nicolas cast his eyes toward me for just a moment before smiling at the group. “This will no doubt be harrowing and difficult and require all of our cunning to get through.”
“Ah,” Keisha said. “So… a lot of fun for you?”
Nicolas’s smile widened into a wolfish grin. “Yes, quite enjoyable. I’m looking forward to showing the rest of the world what we can do.”
I loved that my family didn’t panic over oddities. Although we were all rattled by the shattered shield, we treated it like any other strange anomaly in the magic—we studied it and tested it and tried to find a root cause so that we could fix it.
I checked the folder that had been set up for this incident, but no one had added any new data to it yet. The chat channel for the topic was empty and silent. When I poked my head into Ryan’s office, he and Cameron were deep in discussion, their lunch plates pushed aside, uneaten, their coffee growing cold in their mugs.
I backed away without disturbing them.
I had promised myself I’d get to the lab that day to do some more work on wards and shields. Teng had provided me with some thoughts and ideas, and I wanted to take what he’d done and go over it before I saw him next.
Teng constantly took so much work off my plate that I felt horrible if I failed him even a little bit. Although he would never consent to using the title “lieutenant,” that was basically what he was to me.
So despite my pounding stress headache and desire to crawl back into bed, I dragged myself through the cold and over to the imposing lab building.
When I opened the door, Nicolas was pacing across the floor barefooted.
Our lab was the coolest building on the property, specially designed and built for our needs. Mostly made out of wood, it had a reinforced steel-and-glass roof that could be opened to the elements. Right now, it was closed. The building itself was a huge rectangle, the walls warded to the point of extravagance in order to prevent magical accidents.
One-third of the length of the rectangle looked like a traditional science lab with dark, stone worktables and a slew of shelves holding various magical instruments and books.
The other two-thirds of the space was completely empty, used for large-scale magical experiments. The wooden floor had been inlaid with a giant circle, roughly fifty feet in diameter. The circle was made up of concentric rings, each of a different material. The order, from outside inward, was rubber, silver, ceramic, copper, quartz, platinum, fiberglass, and gold. The innermost ring was a shallow channel filled with distilled water.
Rings of conductors and insulators that could be used in experimentation. And right now, Nicolas stood in the center of them.
“Hey, you,” I said, smiling as best as I could.
His tight, concentrated expression opened up, a playful smile touching his lips. I had only just gotten to him and given him a light kiss when his phone rang. He put a finger to my lips gently and held his phone to his ear.
“Yes?” A pause. “Yes, this is Nicolas.” The emphasis and his slight wince told me whoever was on the other end of the line had pronounced his name Nih-ko-lass instead of the correct—and very French—Nee-koh-lah.
I gave him a sympathetic smile. Whenever I listened to Nicolas or Ryan correct others’ pronunciation of their difficult surnames, I thanked the stars that “Fiona Ember” was about as simple as could be. Demarais—or Deh-mar-rey—and Zhang—or Jahhng—were reminders of what I didn’t have to deal with.
I turned away, dropping my bag on the lab’s couch while he answered a series of questions that sounded like measurements, and then moved on to reciting a series of dates.
Once he hung up, I raised a brow. “What was that about?”
“The special steel sheets for our temple walls and doors are almost ready. The company producing them was double-checking the washer sizes and the delivery dates.”
Nicolas and Sylvio had been planning for reinforced walls and doors that could conduct our magic but also provide better physical protection than wood in order to protect our sanctum. These were a test run—if they worked as well as we hoped against magical and physical attacks, we’d likely start putting the steel all over the clan house compound.
We’d been playing with metal of all types in order to figure out something strong, lightweight, and reasonably inexpensive that we could use with ease and versatility.
I wouldn’t be surprised if Nicolas needed to invent a new type of metal before he was satisfied with the results, given that Lightning treated metal very oddly. He was nothing if not a driven perfectionist who wanted consistent results.
“Are you and Sylvio working in here today?” I asked, rethinking my plans for where I would do my brainstorming.
Nicolas nodded. “He should be here any moment.” He smiled weakly, tired. “Would you like to help?”
I hesitated. “I should probably just stick with what I’m good at.”
He reached a hand out to me. “I could use your advice, lamb. You have a great eye for magic. We have a few samples of the metal used in our new doors, and Sylvio and I are figuring out the proper application of the wards.”
“Okay,” I said uncertainly. It was hard to believe that Nicolas couldn’t figure out something on his own.
Nicolas dropped his chin, giving me an impatient look. He stalked across the lab to stand in front of me, touching my cheek gently. “Do you know, Fiona, that you are the most creative magician in the clan?”
I shook my head, heat creeping into my cheeks.
“Stop,” he said, but an amused smile touched his lips; he wasn’t upset with me. “Everyone here has incredible power, each strong in their own way. You have a particular connection to Lightning that affords you instincts even I don’t have. You have no idea how important that is to the health and safety of our clan.”
I smiled weakly. Despite all my self-doubt, I did know I was good with those things. “Most creative” seemed too indulgent, but I was willing to take at least some of Nicolas’s heartfelt praise.
“I don’t want to be the best at anything,” I said. “Being good? Sure. Being the best? Too much pressure. I’ll leave that to you.”
Nicolas leaned down and kissed me softly, snaking a hand around to the small of my back and tugging me closer. My heart dropped into my stomach, pleasure ringing through me.
I am not sure I am the best of us, Nicolas said silently. Our magic is so new, so young. There is so much left to discover. He kissed me again. Luckily, we get to discover it together.
Even the frustrating parts, I thought, recalling last night.
He nodded. Even the frustrating parts. They are less frustrating because I have you.
I met his golden eyes, studying their depths, letting myself plumb them for affection and then basking in it. Nicolas’s gaze always made me feel better about myself and always filled me with pride, confidence, and courage. He had never doubted me, had never belittled me, had never given me anything less than absolut
e support.
Nicolas was often cold and unyielding, but never with me.
The lab door opened, and I jumped, startled. I pulled away from Nicolas, embarrassed by our closeness, but Nicolas caught me, keeping me near him, pressing a kiss into my hair.
When I managed to turn my head, I saw Sylvio watching us from the doorway as he took off his shoes, his eyes kinder than usual. In his left hand, he held a few square-foot sheets of metal. When our eyes met, he raised his brows.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked, brushing his blond hair from his eyes and making his way toward the lab tables. His words were light and teasing.
“Just keeping busy while we waited for you,” Nicolas said, laughing and guiding me across room.
“Joining us, Fiona?” Sylvio asked.
“Yeah, I’m curious,” I said.
Sylvio dropped the metal sheets on the table and pulled up another stool, setting it between his and Nicolas’s with a small smile.
Sylvio and I had come a long way in the nearly two years since my Flame group’s assassination attempt on Nicolas. He’d been a frightening force during that fight, and intimidating during my early days in Water, with his tall frame, bulging muscles, and the Meteor magic that had stuck with him even after leaving the clan and joining Water.
With Dan gone, Sylvio trained with me in the evenings, offering difficult but satisfying sparring matches and unparalleled advice on my form. I didn’t think I’d ever feel one hundred percent at ease with him, but I trusted and respected him, and he felt the same way about me.
“Here’s what we’re working with,” Sylvio said as Nicolas laid the sheets out. “What do you think?”
I picked one up and examined it, only half listening as Sylvio detailed the composition and the way the steel was created. I didn’t care about that, and the information didn’t help me.
Instead, I closed my eyes and pressed the metal between my hands. I liked it. It felt nice. Solid, but not heavy. A little flexible. I sent a tendril of my magic through it, exploring it, seeing how it reacted. It took the magic stoically, and the magic adhered better than I expected it would.
I drew a ward on each side—blast protection, meant to dampen any magic that hit it. The wards settled, but not as solidly as I wanted them to. It wouldn’t be hard for someone ambitious to rip them apart before tearing into the metal itself.
I frowned, turning the metal sheet over and over. Finally, I wiped the wards away. I sighed. Those wards had stuck better than on most metal, but it still wasn’t good enough.
That was the tricky thing about Lightning and metal—they got along, but not in a way that made them want to be together. Instead, metal usually allowed Lightning to run right over it, acting as a great launching point or conduit. So far, when we wanted to trap Lightning, we generally used some sort of insulator. Wood. Ceramic. Glass. Those absorbed the power and stilled it, stopping it.
But insulators were often too fragile to use by themselves to contain magic. If you wanted something that could be a strong physical barrier and act as a great magic sink… well, that was proving difficult to find.
What else was a good insulator for our magic?
I handed the sheet to Sylvio. “Can you split this into four equal-sized sections, please?”
He set the sheet on the lab table. Slowly, magenta power seeped down his arm, lighting it up until it gathered in his fingertips. Meteor magic, which he still had use of, even two clans later. He ran a single index finger down the center of the metal sheet, and it split in two like butter under a hot knife. He made the same gesture horizontally, and I was left with four six-inch panels.
“Thanks,” I said absently, taking all four and stacking them in my hands, shuffling them like cards.
I played with them, dropping them on one another, then pulling them apart again. What could I put between them? What would make the magic the most effective?
As one sheet of metal clinked against another, it hit me. Air.
Air was a great insulator. Not fragile like glass or ceramic, not weak like wood. It didn’t burn, it didn’t shatter. We could make doors with pockets of air between the steel, trapping magic in them.
I looked at Nicolas, wondering if he’d been tracking my thoughts. He smiled. “Go on.”
“Okay, so…” I held two sheets out to Sylvio. “Weld the edges on three sides, please, with an inch of space in the middle.”
He glanced at Nicolas, confused, and then did as I asked. What he ended up with was a metal pocket of sorts. Carefully, I filled it with magic, pouring sparkly plum-colored power into it until it spilled over. At the very end, I dropped in several of the different dampening wards we had available to us.
“Seal that last edge up,” I said.
Sylvio ran one magenta hand over the metal and it was done, the two pieces coming together as though they’d always been merged.
I held up the pocket—now a small, thick sandwich of metal and magic.
“Well?” I said to Nicolas.
He shrugged. “Let’s try it.”
I tossed the pocket as hard as I could straight up into the air. Nicolas snapped his fingers, and his Lightning magic struck it so hard that my bones vibrated.
It clattered to the floor, unharmed.
I smiled and picked it up. Setting it on the granite workbench, I called up my transmuted Flame magic—something Dan had managed to work into Lightning, to my intense delight—and pressed my hand against the metal.
My magic sputtered and died, barely singeing the metal. My smile widened as I held it up for Nicolas and Sylvio to see.
Nicolas clapped lazily. “Brava.”
“Well, that saves us some time,” Sylvio said, taking the pocket from my hands and examining it. “Thanks.”
The word was small and brief, but it meant everything to me. It crept over me, filling me and dispersing, allowing me a lightness that lasted for the rest of the day.
It was ten o’clock at night. I had given up on editing some chapters of my next book, Lightning Shields—working title—and was watching television idly in the common room while turning over Nicolas’s words from earlier at the meeting.
I’m looking forward to showing the rest of the world what we can do.
I sighed. What could we do? What could we use to impress them, to prove that Lightning deserved a place among the other eight clans? Was that even what we should be aiming for? Impressing them? I had no idea.
Nicolas didn’t seem terribly worried, but that was usually how things went. Distressing things filled me with worry; they just filled him with excitement.
I could hear Teng and Cameron arguing good-naturedly about something in the kitchen. I was about to go see if I could help settle it when Nicolas came up the front stairs and out of the rain. He hadn’t changed clothes exactly, but his tie was gone, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his strong, burnished forearms. There were tiny divots on the bridge of his nose, which likely meant he’d been in the lab all evening, using spelled eyeglasses to experiment with magic.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hello,” he offered, adding a smile to the calm word. “Will you come with me?”
I gave him a pained, skeptical look. I didn’t want to be up all night doing work. “Where?”
“To the lab,” he said, holding his hand out. “I want to show you something. Not work. Something more interesting.”
I twined my fingers in his and followed him out of the house. I smiled as he diverted the rain away from us.
Lightning, unsurprisingly, had mild control over the weather, and affecting precipitation was among the easiest elemental magic for us.
I trailed my fingers through the streams of water as they shifted out of my way, my magic clambering to make a connection with the weather.
When he opened the door into the lab, I drew back, startled. Slowly, I crept inside, peering cautiously at the structure now in the center of the normally empty circle.
“Wh
at happened here?” I asked Nicolas.
A strange stone-like thing occupied the room. It looked like an art project, like one of those domed playground climbers for kids made out of steel bars. Except instead of steel, the connected segments were a glorious spirally mix of shiny black stone and rough white stone. It was as though someone had fused obsidian and coral to make the world’s least-private igloo, delicate and webbed and absolutely stunning.
The dome was as tall as I was, slightly higher on one side than the other, not perfectly symmetrical in its size or density. Nicolas walked to it and ran his hands along its lines.
“I accidentally created fulgurite,” Nicolas said. “I was experimenting with sand, and I blasted it with too much lightning. It turned into this. There’s glass in it, too.”
“Wow,” I said. There weren’t any other words; it was truly lovely.
“Come here,” he said. “It’s prettier on the inside.”
One side was more open than the other, with fewer connected pieces. Nicolas climbed inside, and I followed.
I hadn’t been able to see clearly before, but now I noticed that he had laid out candles, a centerpiece of flowers, and a meal in the middle of the dome. Neat rows of tuna, salmon, and mackerel nigiri sushi were laid on a plate adorned with orchids. Next to it rested a bottle of sake and a colorful pile of Japanese oranges, pears, and strawberries.
With a flick of his fingers and a spark of Lightning magic, he lit the candles, making the shiny parts of the fulgurite twinkle captivatingly.
I smiled. “What is all this for?”
“Does it have to be for something?” he asked, opening the bottle of sake. “I know you didn’t eat dinner, so I brought you sushi from Osaka.”
I glanced around. “Admit it, you simply wanted an excuse to dramatically show off your brand-new toy.”
He laughed. “It was inspiring. Admit it, this is romantic, and you are impressed.”
