Days in the palace flew by at a breakneck pace, wild and unrelenting. Life carried on as it always had, with neither the people nor the surroundings showing any sign of change. Misafir continued to win over the hearts of the elders and mages, earning top marks in every trial. She tirelessly supported her rival, Londa Arlenska, doing her best to keep her in the selection for as long as possible. She forged a friendship with Yelen Fizrelska and kept company with the stunning beauty Janette Nindriska, though she no longer allowed herself to trust fully. The ordeal with Aurelia had shaken her belief in the possibility of true female friendship.
Her brother Mark was always by her side, a steadfast source of support and protection.
Yet the true talisman of the viscountess’s success was Prince Theo, who unfailingly appeared in her chambers after lunch to whisk her away to their secret hideaway. Their training sessions were intense, even ruthless at times. The heir was so wary of underestimating their enemies that he gave his beloved no respite. Tender kisses and quiet conversations were a thing of the past. Now, the teacher and his pupil devoted themselves entirely to magic—a magic whose level and strength grew daily, to the point where deflecting Misafir’s increasingly skilled, precise, and professional strikes became a daunting challenge for the young prince. It was especially difficult when he began training her in elements he himself did not wield. Misafir could effortlessly summon a wave, erect an earthen wall, and shatter it with a gust of wind, while Theo watched intently, setting ever-higher standards and taking care not to accidentally fall within the radius of her magical havoc. The viscountess of Liem still hadn’t mastered opening a portal on her own, but she had become adept at espionage and disguise techniques. Theo taught her everything he knew, unsure of what might prove useful to her in the future. Behind the mask of a stern instructor hid a gaze full of admiration for the girl and a deep desire to soften his rigorous training methods, to be gentler with the poor soul. But he understood all too well that life was unforgiving, and the winds of change could bring disaster as early as tomorrow. Misafir needed to be strong and ready to fight. She had to know her strengths and weaknesses. Magic, like muscles, demanded daily practice. What struck him most, however, was that even after repeated failures, burns, disappointments, pain, and exhaustion, the Lightning Girl never once complained about the harsh training methods. She didn’t shed a tear, not even when she accidentally struck herself with a blast of wind. The powerful gust threw the brunette against a stone wall, dealing her a harsh blow, and even Theo’s heart froze in horror. Yet the viscountess didn’t so much as wince. She endured everything, taking every critique and past mistake to heart. And that earned her both admiration and respect.
Sigismund, meanwhile, busied himself with meeting his prospective brides, going on dates, handling state affairs, and spending nights in Ingrid’s chambers to quell her jealousy. But he made every effort to keep his distance from the viscountess of Liem. The foolish bracelet she wore constantly somehow failed to work as intended (or rather, it worked, but not at all in the way he had planned). Her energy was so oppressive that the crown prince could barely endure the torment of being near her.
When the day arrived to bid farewell to the brides who had to leave the selection based on the results of previous trials, the girls were restless from the early morning. Some primped and preened, while others, like Chloe, lay on their feather beds in hysterics. Misafir, however, had long since left her quarters and, in full battle readiness, was attacking Prince Theo, honing her fire magic on him. This sunrise encounter was one of the most intense of their lives. After two hours of grueling training, the heir gave the viscountess a gentle smile and remarked:
— I’ve never seen a girl who, at this hour, isn’t tucked in bed or fussing in front of a mirror. You’re something else, little bear. Isn’t it time to get ready for the results ceremony?
— Yes, it’s time, — she replied with a faint smile. She didn’t want to interrupt the training sessions that had become an integral part of her life. Mastering and taming her own magic had turned out to be an incredibly fascinating endeavor. — Can you drop me off at my chambers? By the way, Theo, we won’t be able to meet this afternoon as usual. There’s a new trial.
— Alright, little bear. But you’re making great progress; you’re hardly mixing up the elements anymore. That makes me incredibly happy. We can skip a day. Anyway, you’re probably exhausted from this military lifestyle, aren’t you? — Praise from her teacher was worth its weight in gold.
— Not in the slightest! — she exclaimed quickly, eliciting a tender smile from the prince. — Is my coach pleased with me? — Feeling his strong hands on her waist, she lifted her bright gaze to his deep brown eyes, so close now, and whispered sweetly, losing herself in a sea of tenderness. Theo simply shrugged, replying candidly:
— He’ll be pleased when you leave the selection.
— Have a heart! I already don’t see Sigismund because of you, since Mark won’t let me go looking for him, — the viscountess huffed.
— You should listen to your brother; he’s a smart man, — the handsome prince smirked, casting a sly glance at the blue-eyed girl. In that same moment, the will of the spring garden transformed into the cage of her elegant chambers. Gently brushing his lips against the tip of her nose, the prince vanished into thin air. Misafir sighed. Once, his excessive attention had unsettled her, but now this coldness was driving her mad. It felt as though, if not for his promise to help her master her magic, Theo wouldn’t seek out reasons to meet at all. It saddened and offended her all at once.
The ceremony took place in the malachite hall, attended by the Fire Magister, the esteemed committee, the princes, and Her Majesty Queen Maria, who observed everything from a terrace above the apartments. Countess Dorra Naarska, the matchmaker of the selection, stood regally before the girls in a lavish red gown adorned with tassels (undoubtedly borrowed from Ingrid—it was her style). She delivered a lengthy speech about the weighty responsibility of becoming queen, emphasizing that not every noblewoman could bear such a burden. The brides listened half-heartedly to most of the monologue, their boredom leading them to gaze at the prince, the elders, or the handwoven tapestries behind them. Misafir, meanwhile, couldn’t take her eyes off the tassels on the matchmaker’s dress. They amused her endlessly. Only her upbringing stopped her from approaching the countess and asking to take one as a keepsake. She would have hung it above her bed like a horseshoe for good luck.
— By the decision of the esteemed committee and His Highness Prince Sigismund, with the approval of Her Majesty Queen Maria... — Finally, the part that truly mattered began. The girls exchanged wary glances, their attention sharpening. — Today, only two brides will leave the royal selection, as Marquess Aurelia Zerlinska has already departed the palace due to a grave offense against the crown. Thus, we bid farewell to Their Graces Chloe Irliandska and Olzhia Yerlska. Thank you, dear ladies, for your participation. His Highness grants you a generous dowry and his best wishes...
Surprisingly, the matchmaker announced this without unnecessary pauses. Yet, it had been no secret from the start that these two girls never stood a chance. Lambs among lions don’t survive. Both bid a sorrowful goodbye to their former rivals, then to the heir, before leaving the malachite hall, never to return.
The schedule of dates and trials was updated. Exactly seven days remained until the next results ceremony, and the tension was slowly mounting. In truth, it grew with each passing day. Nora and Kerli, Ozalia and Janette, Misafir, Londa, and Yelen. Who knew for whom this week in the palace would be their last?
Sigismund wished to meet with the viscountess of Liem the very next day, so the entertainment program was planned together with Mark, who flatly refused to leave his sister alone with the crown prince.
— You’re so strange! Why don’t you find yourself a girl instead? — Misafir reminded him of her main argument before sending her brother off to bed. He smiled mysteriously and shrugged, completely baffled by his sister’s logic. Would he stop caring for her just because he found a sweetheart? Of course not!
Left alone with her thoughts, Misafir sparked a fire with a sharp snap of her fingers and wearily sank onto the chaise lounge. Though warmth reigned outside, a blizzard raged within her soul. Everything was unfolding as she needed it to, yet her heart wasn’t in it. What a pity. The fire spread through her body like molten lava. Lately, her element had been anything but calm. Due to the interaction, everything had gone awry. She wondered how Theo was doing. What was he up to? If only she could be by his side right now... Unconsciously, she recalled their lessons. “The key is to stay calm! Take a deep breath. Feel yourself, your element, your magic. Imagine the fire is you. Focus. Picture a specific place or person, feel weightless, and let go of your mind, let go of your magic...” The flames enveloped the viscountess in a violet hue. Why violet? It was the color of all Lightning bearers. The magical portal, draining much of her strength, absorbed her: one moment she was here, the next she was gone. Only the scent of her perfume and the crackling hearth betrayed her recent presence in the chambers of the defiant lady.
***
For the key men of the empire, the day had been grueling, and the evening proved even worse. A letter arrived in the capital from Count Leons Shanriysky, who for over twelve years had loyally guarded the borders of Marianía against the Darkness with a squad of the kingdom’s finest mages, hunting for the traitor—none other than the king’s brother. In his message to the great monarch, the count reported that the past few weeks had been far from peaceful. Something was brewing, and that “something” would bring dire consequences. The protective sphere created by the Crystal prevented the mages from seeing into enemy territory, but they were certain of one thing—attacks on the borders had intensified. For now, the sentinels held back the demon assaults, but Leons urgently requested reinforcements.
The king, the two princes, the magisters, the elders, and the knights gathered in the Throne Hall for a war council to discuss their plan of action. Endless clamor, with everyone trying to push their own opinion, occasionally gave way to anxious silence and frustrated huffs. Whenever someone proposed a “brilliant” idea, others would spring to life and dive into heated debate. Even the royal brothers found themselves on opposite sides of the argument. Theo passionately argued that hiding in the palace was pointless. A sense of responsibility for the fate of the warriors and civilians pulled him toward the danger.
— Allow me to ride to the borders and lead a squad of mages! — he insisted repeatedly, backing his plea with logic: — We must personally observe the demon attacks, attempt to capture a hostage for interrogation, and form a new squad of seasoned mages! We can’t help from the palace!
But his brother held a different view and, sparing no effort, defended his stance against the younger prince:
— Form yet another new squad? That would mean disbanding the existing ones—do you realize what that would cost us?! Why not suggest we relocate the entire royal army there while you’re at it? — he scoffed in irritation.
— If there’s a real threat of invasion, then yes! We must deploy the entire army to keep them from crossing into our territory! Or do you think standing on the palace steps, surrounded by guards, will save the empire?! — Losing his composure from having to repeat the obvious over and over, the younger prince hissed through gritted teeth.
“Theo!” — the king exclaimed disapprovingly, sensing the anger in his son’s tone.
— I am the crown prince! — Sigismund declared with equal fervor, staking his primary claim. — Such decisions are not yours to make! We can’t sacrifice the entire army just because the demons are stirring! Every year we hold back their assaults, and we’ll do it again without your innovations!
— I am the head of the knightly corps! — Theodore retorted, refusing to let the insult slide, his own anger flaring like wildfire. No, he didn’t hate his brother, and perhaps deep beneath layers of resentment, he even loved him. But at this moment, he couldn’t hold back. — What do you even know about squads and their formation?
— Enough! — Raising both hands into the air, along with the magic of the Crystal that shimmered in violet sparks, His Majesty put an end to the princes’ quarrel, and with it, the arguments of their supporters. After hours of debate, the king issued a stern verdict that none dared to challenge. A new squad would depart immediately, and the princes would join them in two weeks, the time needed to train the next batch of mages as Theodore desired, but with the condition that the crown prince would remain the supreme commander, and his decisions would be final.
Gritting his teeth, Theo submitted to his father’s command and agreed to serve as his older brother’s “right hand” during the campaign. But considering Sigismund had no desire to leave the palace and deemed the idea of a new squad absurd, the younger prince felt deeply insulted and trampled upon.
Storming toward his chambers with thunderous steps and lightning in his eyes, he exuded an imposing presence, the only place where no one could command him. Young maids and esteemed nobles scattered in all directions to clear his path. A mere glance from him made hearts freeze in fear, and his powerful aura today was especially oppressive, almost suffocating. A trail of hot air lingered long behind the young man, a clear warning that getting in the prince’s way right now—quite literally—would be a grave mistake: he could incinerate without even noticing.
The pages obediently opened the doors to his chambers, spotting His Highness from afar. This saved them from the destructive force of the mage’s wrath. Once inside his domain, Theo let out a heavy sigh. What a grueling day. Right now, he craved just a sliver of comfort and warmth. Not the infernal fire he already had in abundance, but the soothing warmth of human connection. If only someone were waiting in these lonely chambers, someone he could pour his heart out to. Not a servant who answered without daring to lift their eyes above his boots, but someone equal, loyal, a true companion. Someone unafraid to offer advice or criticism, to push him when needed or embrace him when necessary—and all of it sincere. Someone before whom he wouldn’t need to wear a stone mask or wall himself off, burning in his own flames of despair. Someone who could tame that very fire. Wasn’t that why the gods ordained marriage, so every man could have a wife—a true friend and pillar of strength? Keeping emotions locked away, unable to unburden one’s soul, was a heavy burden, even for the strongest.
Like a hurricane, he swept through the sitting room and into the cozy bedroom, where behind the doors of a small cabinet hid his personal collection of fine spirits. Red wines were his favorite. Right now, he’d find a crystal goblet with a tall stem, pour the deep garnet liquid, and down it in one gulp, then again, and again, and again... Was there a more humane solution to his troubles? Once, he could have distracted himself and forgotten his woes in the arms of porcelain dolls—Maurel, Nisara, or those other nameless sweet beauties. But now, this infernal bond had only grown stronger, forging a connection between him and his older brother’s betrothed so powerful it was hard to describe. His inner fire outright refused to accept another, and in moments of passion, it could become uncontrollable, potentially wreaking havoc on the room’s decor with fiery tongues licking at the curtains and sheets. The last witness to such a “hot show” had fled without looking back and now tried to blend into the crowd whenever she saw the prince. Not that he sought her out afterward. The fire had spoken, and he had no desire to argue with it! The element had long been accustomed to dictating certain rules to its bearer. Being a mage, after all, meant far more than being merely human.
He stormed into the bedroom toward the cabinet but didn’t open the doors, an uneasy feeling stopping him in his tracks. The fireplace was lit. Why was it burning when the servants never kindled it? His element stirred with joy, and the rebellious mood in his heart gave way to tenderness. SHE was here. He could sense her familiar energy, her familiar aura. Turning toward the fireplace, his gaze settled on the wide chaise lounge. Curled up with her legs tucked beneath her, the beautiful viscountess held a small book in her hands, reading it so intently that she didn’t even notice the prince’s arrival. Wrapped in a wide men’s scarf, she rustled the pages, seemingly lost in a parallel reality. Theo, too, loved to relax on the chaise by the fire, achieving a unique harmony with his element, slipping into a sweet fiery trance that soothed his soul and lulled his worries. But Misafir wasn’t casting magic, though her state closely resembled true nirvana, where nothing earthly could distract her. Theo couldn’t help but smile. He had no idea how she’d ended up here, but by the gods, she was the only person he’d be glad to see. Approaching cautiously, he sat beside her, gently touching her cheek, warmed by the fire. The viscountess purred like a cat, offering a faint smile but paying little attention otherwise. The dynast smiled tenderly in return, stroking her once more, and only then did her enchanting gaze turn to him.
— Where have you been? — Unabashed that she was the one waiting for a grown man in his bedroom without an invitation, the blue-eyed girl looked at her host accusingly, as if she were his wife.
— You’re here... I’m not even going to ask how that happened. You’ve come at just the right time; I wanted to see you now, — he whispered. A man’s strength lies in his ability to be honest and acknowledge his feelings. Hiding and deceiving are the lot of insecure boys.
— And you’re not mad that I came without permission? — the brunette smirked slyly, her eyes shooting at him like a skilled archer. His response was a silent shake of the head, a clear no. — And you’re not upset that I snooped into your hiding spot to take that journal?
— No, — his confession floated through the room like a whisper, soft as a mythical bird.
— And for taking your scarf? — she asked, surprised, setting aside the thin notebook in which a young Theo had chronicled his daily life under the strict supervision of a stern tutor. The prince smiled, as if to assure her that the scarf was the last thing he minded losing.
— When I was just a boy, this scarf saved me, — a trace of warm memories soothed his soul like a balm, a noticeable spark lighting up his eyes. — I was a restless kid, always running around the palace. Once, Antoine and I climbed up to the attic of a broken watchtower in a remote corner of the garden. The floor gave way beneath me, and I would’ve fallen if the edge of this scarf hadn’t caught on a nail sticking out of a board. That split second was enough for me to grab hold of something, and then Antoine helped me up. Since then, I’ve kept this scarf among my most treasured possessions, as a reminder of that day. I likely wouldn’t have survived, Miso, if I’d fallen—the first floor was cluttered with old machinery from the royal workshop.
— Oh, Theo! The gods saved you for all of us, — moved by the story, Her Grace whispered, looking at the “knitted savior” with newfound reverence. She gently caressed the soft fabric, pressing it to her heart and cheek one last time before tying it around the heir’s shoulders.
— May it always be with you... I managed to open a portal and transport myself here to you, — since the prince hadn’t asked the reason for her grand visit, Misafir decided to explain. — But you weren’t here. At first, I thought I’d wait, but you took so long that I got bored and sleepy. I couldn’t transport myself back, though. I kept bouncing around your room but couldn’t get past its boundaries for some reason... So I decided to light the fireplace to make it cozy and warm the chambers until you returned. Then I remembered your hiding spot and wanted to learn more about you. I hope you’re truly not upset. But since I’ve waited so long for you, tell me first—where were you for so long? Did something happen?
Theo gave a soft smile, brushing his fingers through her chestnut curls. In the past few days, when they’d been near yet so far apart, as if in different worlds, the young man had missed her. Missed her so much that the coldness in their relationship clawed at his soul. And, as it turned out, at hers too. The bond between them left no choice but to yearn for and seek tenderness and understanding from one another.
— There’s a protective barrier around my chambers, a magical sphere that lets anyone in during my absence but doesn’t let anyone out. It’s so I can know who visited me and why. If you’d tried to enter Sigismund’s chambers or the royal apartments, the enchantment wouldn’t have let you in at all. There’s a barrier in the brides’ wing too. Don’t be surprised. To get to you, I had to break through it, — the prince explained quietly. He hesitated with a faint smile, unsure whether to tell the girl about the evening council and the reason for his foul mood. He didn’t want to worry or frighten her with the unrest at the border with the Darkness.
— Why do you look so... downcast? — she finally found the right word to describe the heir’s mood. As if reading his thoughts, the beauty gazed intently into his fathomless eyes, a silent warning that she wouldn’t let him deceive her.
— Just tired... — he made an attempt to deflect her curiosity.
— Don’t lie to me. I can feel you... — she whispered tenderly, placing a soft hand on his broad, sloping shoulder, sending a surge of energy through the young man with a magical tether, awakening his element. Theo smiled, looking at her. He hadn’t realized how much a simple phrase could warm his heart.
Letting out a heavy sigh, he propped his elbows on his knees, leaning forward, and glanced at the brunette again. The urge to share with her was almost overwhelming. Yet, he wasn’t ready to reveal everything.
— There’s going to be a war, Misafir... The demons are stirring. Soon, Sigismund and I will head to the borders to hold back their attacks... — With these cautious words, he tried to prepare her for what was coming without alarming her too much. It wasn’t the best news, not by any measure. But Misa managed to suppress the flicker of fear and emotion, swallowing the lump in her throat before asking in a voice thick with worry:
— When? When are you leaving?
— In two weeks, — Theo replied with a short phrase, exhaling what felt like a cubic meter of air—or so it seemed. If he were an air mage, that gust might have flung open the tightly shut window.
— I won’t let you go. I don’t want to! It’s dangerous! I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you, — her face contorted as if she’d bitten into a sour lemon, and not just one. With a whimper, the viscountess threw her arms around the prince, locking them behind his back where, through the thin shirt, the outlines of his chiseled abs were evident. Yes, the mage’s physical conditioning was impeccable. But right now, her curly head held no thoughts of the heir’s beauty—only his safety consumed her. Resting her cheek on his shoulder, she squinted sharply and tightened her embrace as if to prove her words. A gentle smile graced Theo’s lips. Covering her hands on his chest with his own, he let out another heavy sigh.
— You’ll have to let me go, little bear. But I promise I’ll return soon. Until then, Mark will guard you like the apple of his eye. I’m leaving you in your brother’s care, so I’m not worried. Will you wait for me?
She sighed, her lips pressed into a somber line, and gently stroked the young man’s back. Burying her forehead into his neck, she nestled closer to the prince and softly kissed his shoulder through the silk shirt, sending a wave of fiery tingles through his body and eliciting a faint smile at how clearly his element reacted to her.
— Do I have a choice? — she sighed again. Time slipped by as they sat there, each lost in their own thoughts. Misafir asked no more questions, though the prince knew she craved more information. Yet, in that moment, he was grateful to her. He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to complain or seem pitiful. This beautiful girl needed to believe he was the strongest, the most capable. Only then would her faith in him be genuine. And was there anything more inspiring than the belief of a loved one on the eve of a great battle? The heir disliked melodrama and avoided using adjectives like “beloved” or “dear” for his little bear in his thoughts. But deep in his mind, he knew she was made for him, and perhaps one day he’d realize that this affection was no longer just affection, but true, undeniable love. They just needed time for that...
— I should get back... — the brunette whispered, pulling the heir from the haze of his thoughts. Theo tightened his grip on the viscountess’s hands resting on his shoulder and chest, refusing to let her go. Turning to face her, he kissed her high forehead, just as he had a few minutes earlier. Bidding farewell, the viscountess attempted to open a portal, but the magical barrier wouldn’t allow such liberty, only transporting her to the opposite side of the bedroom. Frowning, she approached the heir so he could grant her passage. His strong hand took her small one, a fiery sphere enveloped the young woman’s form, and a glint of mischief flashed in the prince’s eyes. Instead of sending his guest on her way, he used his magic to pull her onto his lap. Before the brunette could protest, he gently buried his nose in her silky curls.
— I don’t want to let you go, — he confessed, exhaling heavily. — I want you by my side...
— Haven’t enough girls spent nights in these chambers? — she turned away, her tone skeptical, though she didn’t rise from his lap. Theo looked at her, surprised, expertly arching a brow.
— Spent nights... — he echoed, a shadow of a smile playing on his lips. — You have no idea what you’re talking about. And there’s no need for jealousy. First, I’ve never brought any girls to my chambers—among those who aren’t family, you’re the only one. Second, before I met you, I had a life. I didn’t even know you existed, so I didn’t save myself in hopes of meeting you, little bear. You, on the other hand, joined Sigismund’s selection after meeting me, fully aware of our bond and that my element chose only you and no one else. You knew I’d inevitably seek your affection, be jealous of my brother, and grow distant from my family, yet you still took that step. So don’t dare accuse me of anything. And here’s one more important piece of news for you: a man might have countless women with whom he spends nights, but only one—the one—with whom he wants to fall asleep holding her, and wake up sharing the same pillow. The one for whom he wakes just to tuck her in, careful not to disturb her. There are countless nuances, but you’re still young, so you don’t understand that there’s no hint in my words meant to offend your dignity or pride. You’re my pearl. I’ll protect you, little bear. Do you hear me? From everyone, and from myself too...
Her heartbeat became imperceptible, as if it had stopped pumping blood altogether and simply froze. That single moment, when their gazes locked in an emotional, spiritual surge, felt more precious than an eternity. Theo didn’t find anything remarkable in his words, so he didn’t immediately grasp why the viscountess’s energy shifted, why her eyes gleamed with a different shade of endless blue—the color of a stormy sky—and why her delicate fingers nervously clutched the hem of her silk dress.
— You’d better take care of yourself, — she murmured softly to fill the awkward silence, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she playfully nudged the prince’s ribs with a sharp elbow. A cheerful laugh caught in her throat, stifled by composure. The moment was too important to ruin. Choosing not to dwell on the fact that her actions had indeed come between the heir and his family, Misafir focused on something else. — You’ll protect me? But I’m not helpless at all; I can defend myself. Why did you order Mark to accompany me on my date? Clearly not because Sigismund is dangerous. Are you afraid to leave us alone, worried he might fall for me?
— I’m only concerned about you, little bear. I’m afraid you might give yourself away. What are feelings worth without a bond for mages of our level? I haven’t even considered it. And you shouldn’t either: just wait for me to return from this campaign, my beauty. Wait for me. It’ll give me strength, — he cast a sparkling glance, smiling warmly. The inner fire flared again, like an eternal torch, stirring the sensations unique to elemental mages—the merging of magic. He leaned in just a little toward her delicate, strawberry-sweet lips (he knew that for certain now), succumbing to a primal urge. The viscountess smiled slyly, forgetting about the protective barrier around the chambers. She lightly brushed her lips against his cheek, leaving a trace of tenderness, and whispered sweetly, “I’ll wait.” A silvery-violet sphere enveloped the beauty’s form, dissolving her into the air. Like sand slipping through fingers—one moment she was there, the next, his open arms held nothing but emptiness. Theo blinked in astonishment, looking around and not immediately realizing how she’d bypassed the barrier. After a few moments of processing what had just happened, a sly, predatory smile lit up his face. Leaning back regally and freely against the small backrest of the chaise, he lightly stroked the brown scarf. The soft fibers pleasantly tickled his skin, while memories warmed his soul. Not distant ones, but today’s—when his girl managed to open a portal and instinctively transported herself to him. Not to family, friends, or her beloved brother, but to him, to Theo. He’d grown accustomed to her escapes by now. And truthfully, it was his own fault. He could have guessed that their combined magic would lead to Misafir subconsciously mastering his abilities when they were near each other. No wonder she worked so hard during their lessons. The viscountess had proven far more clever than one might expect from a young beauty who had lived much of her conscious life as a recluse in exile.