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DUCK AND COVER (WHEN MAGIC BACKFIRES)

KAZIMIR

Arabella stepped into the focus circle, her shoulders squared like a soldier preparing for battle. Even untrained, her magic rippled across the chamber, scattering the energies I’d spent the morning methodically calibrating.

I moved closer, forcing my frustration into a measured tone. “Let’s begin with something simple.”

“Define ‘simple.’”

“Simpler than healing a shredded hand,” I replied, giving her a pointed look. “According to Pip, you managed that without breaking a sweat.”

A faint blush tinted her cheeks. “That was different. Healing comes naturally.”

“All magic should come naturally,” I said, conjuring a small orb of shadow that hovered over my palm. “It’s about intent and will. Visualize what you want, then channel your energy to make it real. Simple.”

She eyed the dark orb as though it might sprout teeth and lunge at her. “What exactly am I supposed to visualize?”

“Light.” I closed my fist around the shadows, snuffing them out. “Your healing talent suggests you’re good at channeling positive energy, so we’ll start there before you try anything more… destructive.”

“Light. That sounds straightforward enough.” She lifted her hand.

“Hold out your palm,” I instructed, “and imagine a tiny sun forming above it. Summon the warmth, picture the glow, and feed that glow with the magic inside you.”

I remembered how she’d defended herself with raw magic on the road. I wanted to see whether she could do something similar under controlled conditions.

Arabella extended her hand, fingers slightly curled. Her brow furrowed as she concentrated, her gaze fixed on the empty space above her skin. For a few moments, all she created was silence.

“Relax,” I suggested. She practically vibrated with tension. “It’s like taming a wild creature. You gain its trust first, then direct it.”

Her lips tugged into a reluctant smirk. “So now my magic is some unpredictable beast?”

“Think of it that way if it helps,” I said, pleased by her humor. “Close your eyes, if that makes it easier.”

Arabella exhaled and did as I suggested. She took a long breath that drew my reluctant attention to her figure, and the air above her hand began to shimmer.

“So far, so good,” I murmured. “Concentrate and give it purpose.”

A spark of light appeared. It trembled on the verge of extinction.

“It’s... slippery,” Arabella whispered.

“That’s a typical first attempt. Nurture it. Let it feed on your will.”

The spark brightened until it was about the size of a coin. Arabella’s eyelids fluttered open, her face lighting in triumph. But the second her attention shifted from quiet focus to celebration, the spark swelled and flared.

A blinding flash scorched the air. I cursed as fierce light burst outward, knocking me back a step. The warded runes in the floor sizzled blue, containing most of the energy, but a wave of heat still pummeled my chest.

When my vision cleared, I realized Arabella was gaping. I also realized my tunic was on fire.

She sounded horrified. “Your shirt!”

I patted the flaming fabric, but the fire danced along the cloth faster than I could snuff it out. “Yes, I noticed.”

She shifted uselessly on her feet. “Can’t you, I don’t know, command it to stop?”

“That’s not how—” A lick of flame nearly singed my eyebrow. I let out a sharp oath and yanked the tunic off entirely, tossing it to the floor. Flare after flare ate at the remains until I smothered them with a single, vicious twist of dominion magic.

Arabella’s cheeks flamed almost as brightly as those damned sparks. “I—I’m sorry. I have no idea what happened.”

I silenced her with a terse motion, kneading the soreness in my chest where the flames had caused my protective runic markings to throb. Then I focused on the still - sizzling ruins of my shirt, muttering another spell to extinguish the last flickers. Only the charred scraps remained.

“Well,” I said after a beat of silence, “that was unexpected.”

She bit her lip, as though trying to hold back a laugh. “I did warn you about my track record.”

I glanced down at the soot marking my chest. “If you wanted to see me shirtless again, you could’ve asked.”

“If this had been deliberate, I’d have aimed for your pants, too.” The moment she said it, she choked in horror, her face turning scarlet. “I mean—I didn’t—I’m just—” She covered her eyes with her hand and muttered a curse.

It was adorable watching her flail, though I refused to let it show on my face.

“We can save the pants-on-fire scenario for advanced lessons,” I said drily.

I knelt to brush my hand over what had been my favorite tunic.

“This wasn’t just a mild slip in control.

The power you channeled was substantial. ”

She folded her arms, but the mortification still burned on her cheeks, making her freckles stand out. “Is that criticism or praise?”

“An observation.” I rose, dusting ash from my hands. “Most novices struggle to conjure more than a flicker on their first day. You created a full-blown magical inferno.”

“Lucky me,” she muttered. “I have a gift for accidental destruction.”

I shrugged. “No real harm done.” Apart from the throbbing ache in my vaguely singed chest.

“Any chance you’d like to find another shirt before we continue?” She tried to keep her gaze up, and mostly succeeded. The faint upward twitch of her lips suggested she noticed far more than she let on.

I chuckled, impressed by her resilience. “We’ll carry on. I have a few more shirts… if I feel the need.”

But instead of finding one, I rummaged in a nearby cabinet for a crystal sphere. “Here,” I said, returning to the circle. “A focus stone. It’s meant to absorb and regulate raw magic. It should spare my clothes, at least for now.”

Arabella accepted the crystal, cupping it between her palms and letting out a soft gasp. “It’s warm.”

“It responds to your energy,” I told her, standing near enough to guide her without crowding her. “Try again, slowly. Pour your magic in, but imagine it filling a vessel. If you visualize it as water, control how fast you let it flow.”

She nodded, a resolute set to her jaw. Arms trembling slightly, she closed her eyes. The crystal’s faint inner light flared from pale blue to a richer gold as she channeled her power.

“That’s it,” I coached softly. “Keep a steady flow.”

Her breathing turned ragged, and I saw perspiration beading at her temple. The sphere glowed brighter and brighter.

“Lord Blackrose,” she managed through clenched teeth, “it’s?—”

I reacted instinctively, knocking the crystal from her hand as I lunged forward to shield her body with mine.

We both fell. The crystal shattered with a glassy pop, spraying shards in every direction.

Once again, the runes on the floor blazed in response, but I still felt stinging cuts rake across my back as the fragments pelted us.

When the noise subsided, I found myself sprawled over her, chest pressed tight against her softer frame.

Arabella’s eyes were wide as she stared up at me.

Her breath puffed against my lips, close enough to remind me of precisely how quickly our dynamic could slide from lethal to…

less polite territory. I knew exactly how she looked in that thin nightgown, and my traitorous body flared hot with the memory.

“Are you hurt?” I asked gruffly.

Arabella managed a shake of her head, still struggling to piece together words.

I was not, nor had I ever pretended to be, a gentleman. So I stayed there a beat longer than any decent person would have, forcibly telling myself it was only for dramatic effect. Then I rolled to one side and got to my feet, ignoring the faint sting of the cuts. I extended a hand to help her up.

When she was on her feet, I dropped her hand—every nerve in my body felt hyper-alert. “That was…”

“A disaster?” she blurted, brushing debris from her tunic.

“Educational,” I countered. I inspected the rune work on the floor. It’d soaked up most of the blast, but scorch marks had marred the stone’s smooth surface. “You have enough power to be dangerous as hell. Now we just have to manage it.”

She looked at me uncertainly. “I don’t understand. I controlled my healing spells so easily at home, and I used magic against your men on the road. Why is it suddenly blowing up in my face?”

“It takes practice to harness different forms of magic.” I crossed my arms, conscious of the way it drew her gaze to my bare torso. “We can keep going—unless you plan to destroy the rest of my wardrobe.”

She huffed out a breath, not quite a laugh. “I refuse to fail at this. If I can mend wounds, I can conjure a simple light without starting a bonfire.”

I gave a curt nod. “Very well. Let’s continue.”

For hours, we drilled through basic exercises.

Arabella practiced lighting a candle’s wick without melting the wax, conjuring a gentle breeze to push a feather across the floor, warming water in a cup without boiling it.

Each success came after several explosive failures, and by afternoon, we were both drenched in sweat and battered by her near-disasters.

Finally, I noticed the tremor in her arms and the deep circles under her eyes. “Enough,” I said. “We’ve made progress. You’re far more in control than you were this morning, even if I’m still worried for my clothes.”

Arabella exhaled in frustration. “It’s still not enough. I can’t keep my grip on the magic for more than a few seconds.”

“No one masters this overnight,” I said. “You have raw power. Controlling it just takes time you never got under your father.”

She sagged with fatigue, brushing damp hair from her face. “I’d kill for a bath right now. Possibly with scalding water.”

Images I had no business entertaining flitted through my mind—her in a steaming tub, water shining on her skin. I cleared my throat and turned away to reorganize the scattered training elements. “Would you like Vex to escort you back to your chambers?”

She shook her head. “I’ll manage.”

“Try not to set the halls ablaze, will you?”

She started for the door, then paused. “Lord Blackrose?”

I lifted a brow, waiting.

Her gaze shamelessly dragged over my chest, lingering on the faint soot smudges. “Next time,” she said, a flicker of wicked humor lighting her eyes, “maybe wear something less flammable.”

With that, she walked out, leaving me alone in the circle. A chuckle rumbled in my chest. Seducing her might be easier than expected, if I could avoid being cremated in the process.