He tells himself it's the spark of their connection at first, but he knows magic alone doesn't feel like that; it feels like cool air and water in his mind.

But when he's around Tris his breath begins to hitch and his heart to race; it's only his glib tongue that keeps her from noticing he's turning into one of those witless bleaters who actually fall in love - Sandry'd like that, he guesses, but it's not for him.

Thank Mila he's no weather mage, or he'd be sparking, he thinks as he watches her tilt her head back and peer at a cluster of stars.