Page 53 of Cursed

Will it ever be as easy with her as it was that first night?

She fiddles with her fingernails as I gather the words to help her.

I start, “I know you hate fire, but—”

She interrupts, “I don’t.”

I cock a disbelieving brow.

Shayla amends, “I don’t likemagicalfire.”

“Okay.” I breathe in, changing my tactics slightly. “Fire isn’t bad, even magical fire. I know your mother, and even my father, use it in a violent way. But fire also warms us. Fire from the sun warms this stone. A stove cooks our food. Just like anything, there are negative and positive uses for it.”

“I know that.” She rolls her eyes and, says with a quirky grin, “I don’t need to be dragon-splained fire.”

I chuckle at that. “You’re right. But if you want to control your fire, you will have to shift your perspective so you can focus. Fire has mostly been used as a weapon in your experience. That’s why you panic when you see your hands light up, right?”

“Sort of. But it’s more complicated than that. I don’t want to be my mother.”

“Fair enough.” I nod and reach out to hold her hands. “But you aren’t her. Just like I’m not my father. Do you trust me now to never use fire to hurt you?”

“Yeah. I can’t see your dragon hurting me.” She frowns, realizing I’m a fire mage as well. “Or you.”

“I wouldn’t. Neither of us would use fire to harm you… only to protect you.”

Her eyes well with unshed tears. Dammit, I want to kill her mother for taking away Shayla’s power like this.

“So when you summon your fire magic, I want you to remember that you’re shapeshifting intomypower and not your mother’s. Yours is a protective fire. A righteous fire. Not a petty fire. Okay?”

Her eyes glow with the empowering words. “Okay.”

“Hold your hands out in front of you, palms up, cupping them together,” I request and do the same. “Have you summoned fire on purpose yet?”

“No. Only when I was upset.”

“Let’s try it without the feelings triggering the magic and see if you can call it forth,” I suggest. After her hum of agreement, I continue, “So visualize the fire hovering over your hands, about the size of a tennis ball. Feel the heat of it. The light. Once you have the image in your head, call it into being.”

“How do I call it into being?” she asks with a curious tone that, for some reason, makes my heart flutter.

“I think it would be much like your other magic. But for me, it’s like calling an old friend over to my side.”

“I like the way that sounds.” Her eyes finally light up with hope. She concentrates on the space over her hands for a long while.

I see her struggle. She’s of two minds. Part of her wants to succeed, and part of her wishes she didn’t have to see another flame again.

A sputtering light the size of a candle flame comes to life in her hands.

“Oh!” She jumps, and her body tenses.

“You got this. Remember, you won’t be burned by your own fire.”

“I won’t?” she asks. Her mind races through all the other times she has called upon her fire by accident. “I guess you’re right.”

“Hey, even a broken clock is right twice a day,” I joke.

She chuckles. And the flame flags out. “Oh… I lost it.”

“Don’t worry!” I cup her knees in a show of support. “That was better than I did on my first day of fire training.”

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