“Ice isn’t a liquid,” Selena repeated. “You’re right. In its solid form, water will never aid you. But in liquid or gas, it will. And you can change its form by calling to it. Do it now, make it water.”
I glanced into the bowl. The shards of ice were in the beginning stages of their melt, an insignificant puddle laying in the basin. “Ice aided me once,” I said, remembering how it had formed a shield between my uncle’s knife and myself.
Selena frowned. “You manipulated ice?”
“No, not really. I was afraid; I didn’t mean to call to it. But suddenly it appeared.”
“If it suddenly appeared, you must have pulled the droplets in the air close to you, then hardened them to ice. I’m not sure that it’s possible to manipulate ice once it’s in solid form." She tilted her head, watching the bowl along with me. “The molecules in water contract when cold. Closer together, they freeze, losing energy. You can call to them, offering your own energy to spread them apart, effectively heating the water. Hot water is expanded, full of energy, and easier to control. If all you have is cold water, focus on warming it first, then you can manipulate it how you want.”
I remained quiet. Thoughtful. Sliding my fingertips into the ice, I forced myself to stay there. Unlike the water in the otherbowl, which tested my call with indifference, the ice fully ignored me, as though asleep.
“As with everything else,” Selena said, lifting a wineglass to her mouth and taking a graceful sip, “practice.”
I did.
I practiced at the party I attended with Diara that evening, staring into my glass of sparklingvolareand calling to the water within, gently swirling the liquid in my flute, then warming the crushed ice left behind.
At sunset, I excused myself to walk in the gardens. Passing little fishponds and bird baths, I called upon the water to ripple as I walked by, my wrist flicking softly at my side.
In the morning, I realized I’d begun to have a sense for water as well, finding it when I entered a new room like a hound trained to find a hidden treat, and as the day wore on I had the palace mapped out by the scent water took on when in certain areas: the bitter water in the stables outside, the sour water in the crevices of moss along the roof above, the sweet water in the kitchens to the east, the rusted water deep below the stone foundation, and the waters of the servants quarters, which seemed to smell faintly of ammonia.
I caught whiffs of Kye when he came into contact with liquid on the other side of my wall. Pausing to breathe in the rainwater and mint, I assumed he must be bathing, and quashed whatever warmth that trickled through me at the thought, assigning my mind elsewhere with ineffectual determination.
By this time tomorrow, I’d be married.
And by this time two days from now, my husband would be dead.
I breathed through the soft pounding of my heart whenever I let myself think about it.
Focus. Don’t think about Kye. Think about the puddle on Selena’s balcony.
She stood beside me, watching as I pulled from the moisture in the air, the small splash of water rippling along the cracks between flagstones as though a harsh wind blew across it.
“That’s enough for today.” A gentle weight came in the form of Selena’s hand on my shoulder, and I relaxed, sighing the tension out of my body. My fists clenched and unclenched, warding away the stiffness in my arms.
It had only been two days of practice, but I’d expected to be better. I’d always excelled in my tasks in Leihani without really having to try. Warding disease from my herbs, healing roots in my garden. Once I’d learned I was a Naiad, I thought I’d inherited the skills. The rest should be just as easy.
ButMihauna, I was terrible.
“We can come back,” Selena said, watching the look in my eyes with guarded patience. She knew how frustrated I was. “There’s something I wanted to show you.”
Leading me inside, she reached high on her shelf for a scroll tucked behind a book.
“Throughout history, there have been several Naiad healers who use water calling and mapping for their arts,” the Naiad stated as her arm stretched high over her head. Capturing it with her fingertips, she brought the scroll down for me to unroll.
The paper was old, frayed at the edges and stained with age. Symbols I hadn’t seen before garnished the top and bottom in patterned rows. In the center, two anatomical figures were sketched as if they’d been laid out, palms turned upright.
One was human, the other Naiad.
They were skeletons with organs, their muscles detailed in ropey lines along their bones.
“There’s a lot we could go over,” Selena said, sighing. “But it’s getting late, and you won’t have time to practice anything tomorrow.”
My stomach flipped.
“Next week we’ll begin static apnea.”
Shoving my sudden anxiety away, I threw her a curious look.
