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“I’ll make you more pasta. That’s pretty much all I have here right now—when you can control your magic for a bit, we’ll venture out to the nearest town for fresh supplies.”
“I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to control this magic,” I warned him.
“Then I suppose I’ll have the pleasure of feeling your naked body on the ground every day for the rest of our lives.” His voice was cheerful, and I couldn’t hide my grin.
He was being his normal self again, finally.
“Could you even survive my flames, if we decided to… you know?”
“I know what?” he asked.
Right.
They had different sayings than we did.
Some of them seemed to translate properly, but nowhere near all of them.
“Have sex,” I clarified.
He grinned. “I’d survive a hell of a lot more than a few flames to have sex with you, Margo. Even if I didn’t feel that way, you saw me in the flames at the center of the fire fae’s land. Fire doesn’t hurt me.”
My cheeks were hot, and definitely red, but he couldn’t have known that. “Flame wrecked your city, though. It feels like a valid question.”
“Flame tapped into the magma beneath my city, after the city had been made vulnerable by the cracks I hadn’t been filling since I lost control of my magic. Plus, the people’s representatives had been ignoring my warnings that they were destabilizing the earth for decades,” he corrected. “It takes a very special circumstance for fire to hurt stone, and you and I will never have one of those because I’m not a city, nor am I full of magma.”
“So you’re saying it would work?” I asked him.
“Yes. And very, very well, considering that fate declared us compatible.”
“Theoretically,” I pointed out.
“Theoretically,” he confirmed. “Should you ever be interested in trying it out, you know where to find me.”
“Yes, I definitely do.”
His back was to me as he started the food, and I watched him stick a hand in the fridge and feel around for something. Though he wasn’t stumbling, or awkward, I felt bad that he was cooking for both of us when he’d admitted that it wasn’t one of his many talents.
“How am I supposed to keep my flames down?” I asked him, as I stepped up behind him.
“Fire magic is notoriously difficult to control. The earth is a living thing, but it responds to calmness and reason, while fire does the opposite. The way I’ve heard flame describe his magic is as emotion come to life, and with power-hungry tendencies. Focusing your thoughts can help focus your emotions, which is why I was trying to convince you to do it.”
He had wanted me to think about the same thing I’d thought about to regain some semblance of control over my magic in the fire fae’s land.
But he didn’t know what that was.
My face burned hotter.
He found whatever he’d been looking for, and pulled it out of the fridge. Even looking at it, I wasn’t sure exactly what it was. Some kind of vegetable or herby plant? We had mainly survived on fruit during our journey across the elemental fae lands, so there was a lot I still didn’t know about.
I wanted to make cooking easier for him, though, so I offered, “I can grab things for you. I’m on fire, but I think I can pick things up for a short time without burning them.”
“Thank you.” He didn’t turn around, and I didn’t ask him to.
We fell into a quick pattern—he would ask me for things, and I would rummage around until he’d described them well enough for me to figure out what they were.
As he cooked, my mind returned to the flames that had made me a fae.
To what I’dthoughtwhile I was in those flames.
