“It’s the way of life, unfortunately. I’m just glad I found her in time, and that she feels safe enough to stick around.” He had a fond expression on his face that I couldn’t help reacting to with another smile. “If she wishes to leave, that is entirely her choice, though I hope she stays. She’s part of the family.”

For some reason, an image of her lying across my dad’s sofa like a contented house cat crossed my mind. It was cute, but… “Will she grow?”

“Yes, though she may never be as big as a house. Perhaps a large horse?” Hm, a horse would probably still fit on the couch. It would flatten the cushions, though. “Whatever happens, she will be fierce, I can tell.”

“She’ll be like that flame thing you conjured. Only with her tongue lolling out of her mouth more.”

He snorted. “And much more attitude.”

I laughed as the vision came to me, which prompted another question. “Is everyone’s magic a different color?”

“Yes. It can depend on many factors: your soul’s intentions, the particular strain of magic you possess, or the circumstances of your birth. My magic is purple because my parents were nobles. Purple is the royal color.” Ah, I guessed that explained the banners throughout the palace with the hydra crest. “Your magic takes on a green hue because I suspect you are very nature-oriented. Do you have an affinity for plants, by chance?”

“Yeah.”

“Then that may be your skill set—nurturing the fruits of the earth and encouraging life,” he explained, and that definitely piqued my interest. “You also have a kind aura. You emanate a sense of peace and calmness, which could prove extremely useful in hostile situations.”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed. Peace and calmness? Was that why my head was a total chaos tornado every damn second of the day? Because all that serenity was flowing outward instead of inward? What irony. “Wait…” Realization dawned on me. “Is that why even the grumpiest of grumps relax around me?”

“Most likely.”

“And here I thought it was my abundance of wit and charm.”

“Or your ability to deflect and stall,” he jibed, and I winced. “Try again.”

“It’s not working.”

“It will,” he said gently. His hand lifted as if he had the impulse to reach out and comfort me with a touch, but he thought better of it. He balled his fingers into a fist at his side instead. “Just not on the first try.”

“Fine. Once more, then I’m done for the day.” I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and shaking out my limbs, readying myself to fail again.

“If you imagine yourself failing, you’re going to fail,” he cut in, sounding vaguely amused. “Think positive.”

Damn, is he in my head?

“I can read your expression,” he clarified.