“So,” he said into the silence, quite as if he hadn’t asked her that incredible question, and hadn’t just kissed her. (Her first kiss from a boy!) “What’s thet magic look like?”

She managed to gather her scattered wits. “It looks kinder like foxfire,” she said, after long consideration. “’Cept I c’n see it by daylight, an’ it’s a purdy gold, kinda like the way sunlight gets real late afore the sun ac-chully starts t’set. When I look at them liddle critters, I see thet kinda glow a-haloin’ them. And afore I sets the magic loose to do what I done told it to, I kinda gather it inter a glowin’ ball a-twixt my hands. Thet might be the easiest t’show y’all.”

It was something of a relief to her that after asking if he could court her, he went right back to asking about magic. She had much rather get a chance to get her insides settled down again before he started acting sweet on her; much rather they acted like ordinary friends and not sweethearts, not just yet. It was a big thing to consider!

And after all, they didn’t have permission to be any such thing as sweethearts yet. He hadn’t asked Aunt Jinny, and while she doubted that his parents would object—they were clearly good friends with her aunt, and on top of that, they knew she was being taught a trade that was respectable for a woman to be in, and would bring in steady income to augment what came from Jinny’s little farm—he still would probably have to get their blessing before he took things any further.

Don’t count yore chickens, Anna May Jones, she told herself. They’s all kinder thangs that can interfere.

“All righty then.” He put the chisel and hammer aside, and shook out his hands and arms again. “Is thet somethin’ y’all c’n show me now?”

“Easy as pie,” she assured him. She half-lidded her eyes and unfocused them, searched around for those rivulets of power, found one running right under this very workshop, and gathered the Glory to herself. She felt more than saw the power coming up her legs and down her arms, into her hands; it felt like a subtle tingling, and her skin felt more alive somehow. It began to collect in her hands. She frowned as she focused her intent on it, and concentrated it into a glowing sphere that hovered between her palms. “It’s thar,” she said, holding her cupped palms out toward him. “See?”

She fully expected him to exclaim at the sight of it and say “yes.” But he frowned. “Nope,” he replied with obvious disappointment. “Don’t see nothin’.”

She gathered more of the power, concentrating it further, until it glowed like a little sun, hoping more power would make it easier for him to see, and looked back up at him with expectation. He shook his head. “Still don’t,” he admitted.

“Mebbe don’t try so hard?” she suggested. “When I kinda stopped tryin’, thet’s when I seed it fust.”