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Amusement fills her voice. “Are you asking me what it feels like?”
I straighten and push my hair back from my face. “There was a snap.”
She arches an eyebrow. “What came before the snap?”
I rub my eyes. “Things lost focus and went dark.”
“Everything?”
“No.” I drop my arm to my side. “The pallet and where I wanted it to go remained in focus.”
“Excellent.” She clasps her hands behind her back. “Do it again. Only, this time, allow the future location to also lose focus.”
My brow furrows. Don’t focus on where I want the pallet to end up? How do I tell it where to move to, then?
I reach for my magic, but it slips from my grasp, and annoyance shoots through me. Why is it easy sometimes, while at other times it refuses to obey?
A knowing look glints in Syl’vyn’s eyes. “Something wrong?”
“No.” I grab hold of my wiggling power and glare at the pallet.
It vanishes and reappears in front of us.
“You’re trying to force it,” she admonishes.
I turn my narrow gaze on her. “How else am I supposed to use this magic? It’s too slippery.”
“It is the curse of the celestial court.” She paces away from me. “We deal in the energies of the universe.”
She crouches and scoops up a handful of muddy grass. “Members of the earthen court can gather dirt in their hands, or stroke the fur of a deer, and their minds catalog the sensations and give them something to apply to their magic.”
The mud falls back to the ground, and she wipes her palm on her pant leg. “How do we know what space feels like? What does moonlight feel like held in your hand? You describe your power as a dark slither. Perhaps because darkness is mobile? It vanishes when confronted by light.”
She paces past me, her hands clasped in her lecturer pose. “Space isn’t darkness. It is ever-present, like the moon. We may not see it in the sky, but it is always there.”
I turn to keep her in my line of sight. “I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t know how to apply that to my magic.”
“The silver sithe use mirrors to travel because it is the easiest method. Any reflection will do, though, if the fae is powerful enough.” She stops next to a large puddle left by the rain. “I can either step forward and get wet or…”
She steps into the still water and drops through it without leaving a ripple behind.
My heart lurches. “Syl’vyn?”
Her voice comes from down the driveway. “Or I can embrace the light of the moon, allow it to consume me, and step out the other side.”
I whip around to find her halfway to the gate, where water fills a deep rut in the gravel created by all the heavy equipment.
She strides back toward me. “Unfortunately, we silver fae are limited to places we have been before or that we can see. And if we’re using something like a puddle, the surface must be clear, or it won’t work.”
I stare at her in amazement. “Can you travel across the world?”
“Anywhere that moonlight touches.” She smiles. “Providing my memory is sharp, and the place hasn’t changed.”
I imagine how many opportunities such power would unlock. “That’s incredible.”
“The demonstration was not to impress.” Her expression turns stern. “You think of your power as a separate entity from yourself that can slip your grasp, so that is what it does. When you are not thinking so hard about it, such as when you’re angry, the magic stops fighting.”
Most of the time, that’s true, unless my magic’s refusal to obey is what’s causing my anger.
