Walsh, however, focused on me. “You seem to have an affinity for glass. How did you manage to break the spell?”
Leif saved me from answering. “It’s complicated,” he said. “Hopefully, Quinn won’t do it again.”
“Of course not,” Walsh said. “I guarantee it.”
Quinn shuddered.
I wanted to ask Quinn about the markings, but held my tongue. It was probably a way for him to keep track of his collection, and I had an odd feeling it might get Quinn into more trouble.
With nothing left to discuss, we returned to our cottage to pack. As soon as we were alone, Leif said, “That manipulating sack of seagull droppings!”
“I assume you’re referring to Walsh,” I said.
“Yes. I feel sorry for that boy. He should come with us.”
“Why didn’t you force him to?” Skippy asked. “It’s within your power.”
“There wasn’t a good enough reason. Quinn’s control with the teacup was impressive. Master Bain wanted him to come to the Keep, but he respects people’s right to choose how they live as long as they’re not a danger to themselves or others. The whole incident with the sea glass was an honest mistake. Since Quinn said he’d rather stay, I couldn’t force him. But I can rescue him.”
“What do you mean by rescue?” I asked.
“I gave him an out. He can pull a big hunk of power and alert the Masters.”
I had trouble following Leif’s logic. “But then we siphon his powers. How’s that an out?”
“The danger of flameout is gone. If he yanks on the power blanket, it’s because he needs our attention.”
“And you think this boy is smart enough to pick up on your offer?” Skippy asked.
“Time will tell.”
After we left Walsh’s compound, my mind kept returning to the Bloodrose family. The family’s bland faces haunted my sleep. Nothing they did or said raised a red flag of warning, but their resignation and apathy still left a rancid taste in my mouth. It felt as if they’d given in, letting Walsh decide their lives for them.
Perhaps the bad flavor resulted not from the Bloodrose family, but from my own worries. I had given in to the Council’s wishes, allowing Skippy to guard me and producing enough messengers to earn permission to leave the Keep.
Quinn stayed because of his sense of obligation and guilt from Walsh. Was I doing the same thing?
At least Quinn had control of his magic. I clung to the one positive result of the whole trip, hoping it would drive out the unsettled feeling.
We headed north toward Stormdance land. Skippy protested that there was no need to return to The Cliffs, but I wanted to ensure the orbs would hold a storm’s energy before I left the Stormdancers.
The trip south had been seven days of almost nonstop riding and six days searching the small costal towns for Quinn. Even though we pushed the pace, it took us eight days to reach The Cliffs.
Along the way, I found a few pieces of sea glass. They were scattered over a wide swath of beach. I managed to spark them before Leif or Skippy could fall under their spell. My hands throbbed for a while afterward.
We arrived two days into the heating season. The bright sun warmed the air during the day, making us sweat. But I still used my cloak to keep the chill off at night.
Kade and Heli greeted us first. They had been hiking on the beach seeking treasures. I dismounted with the utmost speed and crushed Kade in my arms.
“I’m glad to see you, too, but I need to breathe,” he said.
I relaxed, although I didn’t let him go.
“What happened? Did you…?”
“No. It’s just the family…” I shuddered when I thought of the Bloodroses. “I’ll tell you about it later. Will you promise me something?”
“Anything.”
I smiled. “You should ask what it is first.”
He shrugged. “The last one netted me a day on the beach with a beautiful woman. How bad could it be?”
“Not bad at all. Just promise me the next time I’m complaining about my family and their embarrassing stories, you’ll remind me of the Bloodrose family.”
“Bloodrose. Got it.”
I pulled away to give Heli the sea glass I’d found. I explained about Quinn. She deflated, but agreed about my guess to the purpose of the markings.
“It was fun. I love puzzles. They’re pretty,” she said. “Do you think Quinn wants them back?”
Remembering the strange tension about the sea glass, I said, “No.”
“Then I’ll add them to my collection.”
“Can we go now? I don’t want to miss dinner,” Leif said.
We walked the rest of the way to the stables. I rubbed Quartz down and groomed her. Moonlight banged his stall door. “As soon as Kade opened it, the horse circled us, then leaned against Quartz.
Skippy worked on Beryl, but he seemed distracted. His attention focused on the sky instead of his horse.
Kade also contemplated the gray clouds over the sea. “I believe our first heating-season storm is headed this way.”
“How bad?” Skippy asked.
“It’s sullen and annoyed. It could blow for a while,” Kade said.
“What do you mean?”
“This time of year, it’s mostly thunderstorms. A few will pop up and sweep over us with nary a rumble, others grow into large chains with pouring rain, wind and lots of noise, and a couple will build into huge systems, sucking in moisture. Those monsters produce hail and tornadoes.” Kade’s eyes lit up at the prospect of monster storms.
Skippy swallowed. “Where is this one on your scale? A popper or a monster?”
“A popper or a monster?” Kade repeated. “I like that!”
“Thanks, I guess. But you didn’t answer the question.”
“This one is in between the two. Large, but not huge, with wind gusts and plenty of lightning.”
“When?” Skippy combed the same spot on Beryl. She flicked her tail at him.
Kade studied the sky. The sun dipped behind the distant cloud bank. “Tomorrow afternoon. Maybe early evening.”
“Do we need to bring the horses up to the storm cave?” I asked.
“No. It doesn’t have enough force to push the water that far onto the beach.” Kade smiled. “Besides, I’ll be out there, taming that sullen storm into a nice shower.”
Raiden and the others seemed glad to see us. Dinner bubbled on the fire and chairs ringed the flickering flames. The glassmakers asked if they could make the rest of the orbs for the season.
“Wait until after this storm. We need to make sure the orbs will hold the storm’s energy,” I said. Anxiety swirled. Kade insisted he dance the storm alone tomorrow just in case the orbs shattered. If that happened, the force of the flying glass would kill him.
Skippy claimed he had no appetite and went to bed early. Leif, Kade and I joined the group around the fire. We took turns filling them in about the hunt for the wild magician.
“I like it when a story ends well,” Raiden said.
“How can you call that a happy ending?” Prin demanded. “The boy is being forced to stay.”
“No one died and no one got hurt,” Raiden said. “Besides, I said it ended well. Not happy.”
Conversation drifted to the approaching storm. The Stormdancers analyzed and compared their thoughts and theories. With small frowns and little pouty huffs, Tebbs showed her disappointment about not dancing. Wick conserved his strength by falling asleep in his chair.
When my eyelids wouldn’t stay open, I said good-night and dragged my tired body up to Kade’s cave. He followed soon after, joining me on the narrow cot.
I melted against him.
He wrapped his arms around me. “You’re worried about tomorrow.” It wasn’t a question.
“A little. I wish I could be out there with you.”
“Too dangerous.”
“I know.” Memories of the last storm season played in my mind, when Kade was faced with a similar situation to test new orbs. His strength had failed before he could harvest enough energy to calm the killer storm. “I helped you before.”
“And I’ll never forget it. You saved my life.”
We had connected through Kaya’s orb. “I would love to do it again.”