Page 44 of Hymn of Breath and Bone

“Like I said, it’s a theory,” Caspian replied, patting me on the back and taking the teacup from me. “Humor me, Urchin. How do you control the sea?”

“I sort of ask her,” I replied. “I don’t really control it so much as I ask for her help.”

“And when you pulled water from the air,” Caspian pushed. “Back when we were shipwrecked. How did you do that?”

“I…” I frowned, trying to remember exactly how I did it. “I just felt for the water and pulled. I’ve always been able to do that.”

Caspian’s eyes flashed in what looked like triumph, as if I’d confirmed his theory already. “And how many selkies can do that?”

“Not many.” I frowned. “It’s called summoning, when you pull water from the ground or the air. But it’s not a particularly useful magic when there are pipes that carry water around, so I didn’t really use it on the Isles.”

“And have you ever seen any other selkies summoning water from the air?” he pushed.

The heat of him pressed into me, and it was difficult to focus on our conversation with him so close, his scent enveloping me.

“Well…no. But that doesn’t mean they can’t.”

Again, that look of triumph. “And your parents—could they do it?”

“No,” I frowned.

“Were they surprised by your gift?”

“It’s rare.” I shrugged again, trying to remember if my parents had even spoken to me about the summoning. My tutors had known of it. They’d been the ones to teach me what summoning was, but had they told my parents? I shook my head. “I don’t know. If they were, they never mentioned it. My job was to be a dutiful princess and bear many selkie sons. No one really cared about my magic.”

Caspian nodded, frowning thoughtfully down at me and weaving our fingers together. “Try, Urchin. Sirens direct the wind in the same way that selkies direct the water. Ask the sky to do your bidding, just like you would the sea.”

“This is not going to work.” I frowned, and Caspian brushed a kiss to my lips.

“Try,” he whispered.

“Fine,” I sighed, closing my eyes. I tried to picture the sky like I would the sea, the air around us composed of currents and waves like the ocean. My awareness snagged on birds flying overhead, a storm in the distance to the east, a spot of rough air where the clouds floated overhead.

I blinked, surprised, as a phantom wind caressed my face and blew my hair in the opposite direction as the gusts that guided the sails.

A spout of seawater from Phyll expressed his approval of my new magic as I sent it to ruffle Caspian’s feathers.

“Told you,” Caspian murmured, pride swelling in his tone. “With practice, you might be able to use it in your fighting too. Defend yourself with shields of wind.”

“Do you think I could fly?” I asked excitedly.

Caspian smiled, running a hand down my bare back. “Not without wings, my love. But I think you could do almost everything else.”

“And what about you?” I asked, excitement flooding me at the possibilities of this new magic. “Can you will the sea to do your bidding?”

“Not like you can,” Caspian replied, shaking his head as he wrapped his arms around me. “I think that particular power goes one way only.”

“Why?” I looked up into his golden eyes. “If this is because of our mating bond, shouldn’t you have new magic too?”

Caspian kissed me, sending heat shooting up from the toes of my boots. “I think the bond has heightened your ability. I think my powers may be stronger too, but not over sea. She’s your domain.”

“Why?” I pushed. “I know there’s more to this theory of yours. Tell me.”

“I will,” he promised. “But I need to confirm something first. With Theia.”

“And who is she, exactly?” If he’d mentioned this person before now, I struggled to remember it.

“She’s…complicated.” He put an arm around my shoulders as he guided me away from the rail, our experiment clearly over. “She has gifts. Sight. She knows things only the gods know.”