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That old surge of fear was back, panic tearing at the back of his throat. He had to stop it. Get it under control.

The magic was burning through his fingers, out of his chest. He was not sure he could stop it if he tried. His magic was unleashed, and it would not want to be stuffed back into confinement.

Instead of trying to rein it in, he redirected part of it so that the magic burst into the heart bond rather than exploding outward. The crackle filled his chest, but the pressure of his magic eased, as if it was no longer clawing to be released now that he had given it an outlet.

He straightened and faced the line of guns again. The repeater guns were still chattering away, but their bullets were incinerated so quickly he could not feel them. They were mere sparks of light among the glittering blue tornado roaring around him.

More of the bigger guns went off, and Farrendel caught each shell, smacking them down to the ground with such force that dirt showered into the air before it too was incinerated.

And still the magic roared. It whirled around him, swirling far into the sky above and flooding the bomb range all around.

He was at the center of a raging storm of his fully unleashed magic, and yet he was in control. Any part of his power that threatened to spin out of his control, he nudged it into the heart bond where it calmed down before either he or Essie tugged it free again.

This was working. He nearly laughed as he reached out and plucked one of the shells from the air only yards from where it had been fired and drew it into his whirl of magic, letting it spin safely around him, before he finally squeezed with his magic, burning through the shell until it exploded high above his head.

Still his magic surged forward, eager for release. And he let it. All of it. They could probably see the column of his magic rising into the sky as far away as Aldon.

This time, he laughed. He let the magic twine around his fingers, playing with it as it burst around him.

He could no longer see the observers or the bomb range. All he could see was the whirling hurricane of magic exploding around him.

And all of it—allof it—was in his control.

All of it except for the tug in the heart bond where Essie drew on his magic, holding a shield over the observers. Any time his wild power touched her shield, she turned the magic or drew it into her shield to strengthen it.

He was not sure how it was possible that she could interact with magic he was already wielding. Perhaps it was all their practice, and he subconsciously released his magic to her when he felt her tugging for control of it. Maybe his magic itself somehow recognized her, as if knowing it now belonged to her as well.

Two people. One magic.

He surged the magic into a vast wall between him and the guns. He formed it into towers and battlements. He let it collapse into a flood along the ground, twining it around each of the spindly pine trees that had somehow survived in the bomb range. If he wanted, he could incinerate those pines with a pinch of his fingers. Or he could ease his magic along the trunks, outline every twig and needle without singeing so much as a pinecone.

After several minutes, he drew the magic back toward him, spinning it into a tornado around him once again.

He felt a stir, and then Essie was walking toward him through the storm of magic, her bright red hair tugging free of the braid whipping in the magical gale. From the tug on the elishina, he could still feel the shield of his magic that she was holding over the observers behind her, ensuring their safety.

The guns had fallen silent. He was not sure when. He had been so deep inside his magic that the guns had become inconsequential.

Essie stepped into the eye of the storm where he stood, and he reached for her, gripping her hands and pulling her toward him. She was staring up at the blue storm, and he tipped his head back as well, taking in the vortex of magic. “You were right, Essie. It is beautiful.”

“Yes, it is.” She wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Can you feel it? I am in control.” The joy bursting through his chest was too much to contain just standing there. He held Essie tightly and spun the two of them, his magic twining tighter around them. “I am in control.”

She laughed and held on tight, not letting go even as he set her feet back on the ground. “I always knew you could do it.”

Then, she kissed him. And Farrendel did not care that they had an audience, though it was doubtful anyone could see them inside the white-hot glow of his magic. He dug his fingers into her hair, deepening the kiss, drawing her in, holding her tightly. He pulled away enough to murmur against her hair, “My magic is beautiful, but you are far more beautiful.”

“Flatterer.” Essie pulled back even more and patted his chest. “Save those thoughts for later, husband of mine. Right now, I think it is about time to wrap up this demonstration. When I left, even the generals were starting to look a little green, and the Parliament members were downright terrified. I think a few of them are huddled on the ground sobbing.”

Right. The demonstration. His magic.

He drew his magic toward him, until it was a star surrounding him and Essie. The magic came more willingly, as if now that he had let it run rampant, it was no longer as wild and desperate for freedom.

With a deep breath, he grabbed most of it and dumped it into the heart bond. Essie released the magic she was wielding, and that magic too went back into the heart bond.

The rest of the crackling, tornado of magic he tossed into the sky and exploded into a burst of harmless sparks that floated down like glittering blue snowflakes. Might as well end with a showy grand finale.

As the sparkling magic nipped against his skin before vanishing, he finally looked down to the line of observers standing behind the Escarlish guns.