"It's as easy as breathing."

"It is NOT," Nehemia announced, stamping a foot into the ground and spinning around to look at her father. He towered over her, and she had to tilt her head all the way back to look up at him. At the age of six, Nehemia barely reached Rowan's kneecaps.

"Take a deep breath and calm down."

"I AM CALM," she roared at him. There were times when Rowan thought Nehemia was more similar to him than to Aelin. For starters, she had his pointed fae ears and his silver hair. And then, even at a young age, she moved more like an immortal fae warrior than a mortal. However, this was one of those times when he was reminded that Nehemia was Aelin's daughter as well. She could burn the whole world down when she was angry. Both of them could.

Rowan squatted down to his knees. He was still taller than her, but now at least she came up to his chest. "Nehemia," he whispered gently. He reached his arms out to her, and she walked into them. All he wanted was to protect her, to keep her safe, for as long as possible. But he knew it would become harder and harder to protect her if she didn't learn to keep her fire magic under control. It burned him to hug her, but he didn't care. He'd let it kill him before he ever let go of her.

When her breathing had slowed, she tapped him gently to let him know she was okay and he could let go of her. Rowan watched as she moved back towards the dummy he had set up in the middle of the garden.

"Papa?" she asked as she turned to face him. "Can you explain it again? I promise I'll listen carefully this time."

He smiled at her and stood up, walking across the garden so he stood behind the dummy. "Pretend your magic is like water in a deep, deep well. Pretend you're thirsty, and you need a sip, but just a tiny sip of water. Reach into the well, grasp a small drop. If you take too much, if you reach too deep…" he trailed off. Sometimes at night, he had horrible dreams, nightmares, of Nehemia trying to learn to control her magic and burning out. And in these dreams, he was always too late. He was always unable to stop her. The thought terrified him, and was nearly impossible for him to speak about. He cleared his throat. "Just a small drop. You're trying to grasp just a small drop of magic."

She nodded and reached her hands towards the dummy. Rowan had instructed her to try and light the dummy on fire, but only one arm of it. She'd completely incinerated several dummies already, the ashes of which lay on the ground surrounding the one currently in front of her.

Squinting her eyes in concentration, Nehemia successfully contained the fire in the arm of the dummy. "Well done," Rowan said, smiling proudly. "When you see your mother later, you can tell her."

"Tell me what?" Aelin interrupted, walking into the garden.

Nehemia looked at her father, who nodded encouragingly. "I was able to keep my fire under control!"

"Excellent!" Aelin said. Like Rowan, Aelin constantly worried that Nehemia wouldn't be able to control her fire magic. At her young age, it was already clear that Nehemia was infinitely stronger than Aelin.

Nehemia immediately tried to show off for her mother, attempting to light the opposite arm on fire. Unfortunately, the entire dummy went up in flames. Rowan pulled a breeze towards them to smother it before the fire spread to the flowers.

Aelin knelt down beside her daughter. "I didn't learn to control it until I was nearly an adult. Don't worry love, you'll get there."

Nehemia planted a kiss on her mother's cheek. "I'm not worried. I have you and Papa."

"To whatever end," Rowan whispered to his family.