Bright Familiar by Jeffe Kennedy

~ 11 ~

Her breath caught audibly in her throat, and she leaned toward him, swaying as if rapt. “It already is. The tendrils of your magic slipped inside my skin long ago, sliding quicksilver through my veins, strumming my nerves to sing just for you. Gabriel,” she sighed, “the Fascination bound me to you from that first night. The bonding in this arcanium solidified those ties so no one can take me from you.”

“The hunters tried.”

“They have no innate intelligence, only followed orders. They wouldn’t have succeeded for long. Separating a wizard from their familiar doesn’t… go well.”

“What happens?”

“Remember the tale I told you of Sylus and Lyndella?”

All too well. He wasn’t fond of the tragic story Nic seemed to like so much. “Abducted, Lyndella went mad, and Sylus arrived just in time for her to tragically die in his arms. So he bled off all the untapped magic that drove her insane to begin with and spent it wreaking revenge on his enemy, killing himself, but taking his nemesis with him.”

She smiled winningly. “You always listen and remember. It’s a lovely trait.”

“I’d prefer not to emulate their sad story.”

“Then don’t. Awaken your arcanium, wizard. Take what is already yours.”

Part of him wanted to draw back, to resist those words and their drugging pull, but the rest of him exulted in the knowing and the needing. This beautiful, magical, fierce, and powerful woman was his. His darker nature leapt at the leash, salivating to consume her. “What do I do?” he whispered. Lifting a hand, he caressed her cheek, her flawless skin soft as nothing else in the world.

She held his gaze. “You decide.”

“You can’t just tell me?”

“I could, but I don’t want to spell it out. It’s more exciting for me for you to take that lead. More exciting for me is more magic for you and the arcanium. And you are the wizard, that means you must learn to be the guiding force. Follow your wizard’s intuition.”

Curling his fingers into his palm, he nearly stepped back from her and found he couldn’t. She didn’t know, couldn’t know, what images plagued his mind, the things he fantasized about doing to her. Then her infuriating words from the night before came floating back… You can release all that pent-up fury and passion upon my helpless body. He supposed she did know, or somehow guessed at least some of it. But then, how could she look at him so trustingly? He feared breaking that trust more than anything else.

“You said we could start slow,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. He’d been avoiding looking at that silver bed, but his gaze went to it, irresistibly drawn. “We didn’t get a mattress for the bed.”

“Yes, well.” Her smile took on an impish tilt. “You and I haven’t been so successful with beds. And I figured you weren’t ready to think about this one yet.”

Those silver chains… No, he wasn’t ready to wrestle what that thought did to him. “So… here?”

“Whatever you want. Remember that you’re learning to excite and then control my magic. Work the metaphor and do exactly that to me.”

“How can I know what’s exciting to you?”

Her full lips curved, a hit of ruefulness, a great deal of amusement. “Gabriel, my only love, you’ve known that from the very beginning. Remember that first meal, how you took control, getting me to eat and drink with you? You seduced me, bit by bit, until I had no ability to resist you.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Put in those terms, it made him even more culpable.

She laid a hand on his jaw, gripping just enough to get his attention. “Overthinking is a problem for you. Don’t think. You followed your instincts that night. Follow them now. You know what you want me to do. Tell me to do it.”

Don’t think.“All right. Take off your clothes.”

Her eyes darkened, a faint tremor in her fingers. “Yes, sir.”

Grabbing her wrist before she could trigger the fastenings on her gown, he stopped her. “Don’t call me ‘sir.’”

She yielded to his grip, inclining toward him. “How shall I address you in here?”

“As you always do.”

She shook her head. “It needs to be different, so we both know what lines of power we’re working. Both in the arcanium and outside of it.”

He definitely didn’t want her calling him anything deferential outside of the arcanium. She waited, compliant in his hold. “Call me wizard, then.”

Her lips curved, sultry, perhaps pleased. “Yes, wizard.”

He let her go and watched as she stepped back enough to strip off her clothes, a thrill racing through him that she did so at his command. Though he’d seen her naked more regularly the last few days, this was different. When she stood there, naked and so very beautiful, she looked at him through her lashes. “Wizard? Where shall I put my clothes?”

It shouldn’t be that arousing that she asked, but it was. Don’t think. “You won’t need them for a while,” he answered, surprised at the sound of his own voice, smooth and in control. “Put them in a cabinet.”

“Yes, wizard.” She crouched to pick up the pile, carrying her boots and gown to a cabinet and shutting them inside, her hips swaying seductively as she walked. He could watch her simply walk around naked for hours. In fact, the thought occurred to him with the bone-deep reverberation of a gong, he could have her do that, and she would obey. Everything in him felt as if it came alight, dark excitement flaring in him, Nic the fire that blazed through him, his own magic heating with it, turning to quicksilver and steam.

She stood quietly by the cabinet, awaiting instructions, he realized. Excite and then control my magic. Work the metaphor and do exactly that to me. “Come here,” he told her, feeling the flare of her arousal in the magic twining between them. She was right, he would and did know. When she reached him, he moved aside enough to point at the exact center of the arcanium, clearly marked by a circle of silver tiles as bright as full moon. Obediently, she stepped onto it, jewel-bright eyes fixed on him, shimmering with magic and desire. “You will kneel for me,” he said softly, noting how she shuddered in response. Yes, she’d mentioned wanting that.

Gracefully, she knelt, looking up at him, the threads of connection humming between them. Moved, he caressed her cheek, and she leaned into the touch, warm and yielding. Magic throbbed in him, like he’d never before experienced, hers and his together, a vast ocean of it, feeding into the silver structure and the lake around them, even to the moon, obscured as it was. And from only this much.

“Is this all right?” he asked her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Whatever you want is all right, wizard.”

Right. Take control. Excite and control.

Caressing her cheek down to the line of her jaw, he grasped her throat, gently but firmly, and tipped her chin up. “Open your mouth.”

She trembled under his touch, the pulse point under her jaw leaping against the pressure of his fingers as she complied, opening her lips to him. Following impulse, he slid his thumb inside. Needing no further instruction, she closed her lips over it, the sweet pressure an echo of how her mouth had felt on his cock that afternoon, bringing him to such excruciating completion. He wanted that from her, more and again.

But not yet. It’s good for me to simmer a bit, to recharge my magic reservoirs, she’d said. All right, then, he could make her simmer. He just needed a few supplies. In the meanwhile… She could inspire him as she waited.

“Clasp your hands behind your neck,” he told her, his daker nature thrilling to her immediate compliance. The pose lifted her full breasts, much as she’d teasingly offered them to him. “Arch your back. More. And close your eyes.”

On a shuddering breath, she complied. Her nipples were hard, bringing the lush globes to exquisite points, shivering with her breathing and building arousal.

Allowing himself to enjoy this—don’t think; follow your instincts—he moved around her, making minute adjustments to her pose and touching her as he liked. She responded to his least caress, magic and desire rising beneath her skin, her lips parted slightly, eyelashes like black lace against her skin, the expression on her face rapturous. Feeling like a sculptor graced with the perfect medium, he lifted her breasts, enjoying their sensual weight, then settled them again, sliding his fingers down her spine to arch her even more. There—perfect. “Just like that. Don’t move,” he told her, brushing her lips with a kiss, and she moaned, a delicious purr of a sound.

Brushing his hands over her thighs, he eased her knees apart. She shifted slightly to assist, still holding the rest of her pose. The skin of her inner thighs was impossibly soft, alluring, enticing. Indulging himself, he traced the sweet stretch up to the hollows framing her sex, the heat from her core palpable as a flame, the slickness of her arousal all the evidence he needed. Trailing his fingers through the damp curls, he watched her expressive face, the rise and fall of her breasts, the tension making her quake as she fought not to move.

She was very good at it, as disciplined as she’d hinted, not moving even when he parted her nether lips and gathered her liquid arousal like harvesting fresh honey, then painted her taut nipples with it. A whimper escaped her, and she pressed her lips closed over the sound.

“Wait here,” he told her, and she took a breath, clearly trying to settle herself.

As he prowled through the arcanium, he watched her, the light gleaming on her skin from all sides, making her the focus. A work of sensual art, like an erotic sculpture. She held still, eyes closed, but something in her posture—perhaps her magic—spoke of how keenly she’d trained her attention on him. Opening the drawers and cupboards, he toyed with her, picking up various implements simply to make them chime and arouse her curiosity. The lines of her body strained with interest, her face a picture of barely restrained impatience.

Gathering a few simple things, ignoring some of the more exotic and intriguing tools, no matter how they beckoned, he set them aside and undressed as silently as possible. She was listening for him, so he was quiet, increasing her suspense. Perhaps she knew exactly where he was, just as she stood out like a flame in his mind. The arcanium had become like a silver pond, dense with magic, intensifying so the least tremor from either of them sent ripples that affected them both.

Carrying his selections with him, he moved silently back to her, feeling like a hunter stalking his prey. The predator can have no mercy in its heart for the prey. But he did feel mercy, and an infinite tenderness. What she gave him here was the deepest sort of offering. Her absolute trust, giving him whatever he asked. For the first time, he fully understood the intimacy and excruciatingly intense secrecy of the arcanium. Wizard and familiar, this was a relationship of magic and desire, something primal that went to the core mysteries of the universe.

But the Convocation was wrong. The power came from this willing yielding, what she gave up purely out of her own desire. Nothing else would hold as much meaning. No compulsion, no magical bond. Unless it was the Fascination that ensured she submitted to this, rather than her own needs. Don’t think.

Still, he crouched before her, tracing the line of bruises collaring her throat. She trembled, gasping slightly through barely parted lips.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered, and she did, the deep, glowing green illuminating her face, bringing her vividly present to him. Lowering his head slowly, he extended his senses into her more than he ever had, twining tendrils of silver to rest on the pulse points of her soul, sensitive to the least flinch from her, any sense of unwillingness or resistance. There was none.

There was a hint of fear, yes, the edge of trepidation he’d felt from her all along, that she’d told him came from the terror of losing her will to him completely. Perhaps, if they could find a way to ritualize this exchange, they could isolate that power differential to only working the magic. She wanted to find her alternate form. They needed to build the power to defeat their enemies.

It needs to be different, so we both know what lines of power we’re working. Both in the arcanium and outside of it.Nic still met his gaze, perfectly unmoving under his hand, yielding utterly as he brushed his lips over hers, her essence thrumming to the touch, her heat rising around him, the wine-dark, bloodred magic suffusing his entire being in turn. He wanted to devour her entirely, and she would let him. The sense of power—and attendant responsibility—nearly made him dizzy. This, everything about this moment with her, encapsulated how he’d felt since the magic cracked him apart in its claws, turning him inside out. This was what he’d needed all along, her, and to learn the control.

With a rush of something that felt like relief, like the release of a fever he hadn’t known plagued him, he stretched those silver threads into a rope of control. Releasing her from the kiss, he kept his hand on the back of her neck, pressing her gently and inexorably down until she folded with her forehead resting on the floor. Taking her hands from behind her neck, he moved them to the small of her back, crossing her wrists. She stayed as he arranged her, the only sound her shuddering breaths as he trailed the soft rope apparently made of silver thread over her skin. He let her feel it, wonder at it, before he looped it over her delicate wrists, winding it around and between her hands, binding them there.

So achingly beautiful in her helplessness, she drew him more profoundly than ever. He didn’t like to think what that meant, but then, he wasn’t supposed to think. She had given him that order, and he could obey at least that. Your thoughts shape the magic. So he focused his thoughts on her beauty, her sensual brilliance, her fierce nature turned inside out and offered to him with exquisite vulnerability. On how very much he loved her.

Surely that was a sort of magic too, the passionate love for her that craved both cultivation and direction.

Retrieving his shirt, he tore it into strips, a shiver of reaction rippling over her skin with each hiss of sound. Nothing soft had survived the years of neglect in the arcanium, nothing except that silver rope, which was likely moonlight made solid and softened to a silken fiber. The binding of it on her skin hummed to his magic, a conduit that collected and funneled his magic and hers, amplifying and concentrating. Her knees must surely be growing sore on the unyielding tiles, so he folded his leather jacket, sliding it beneath them, taking the opportunity to spread her thighs wider, raising her full moon ass high above them, her swollen sex parted and offered like the ripest fruit.

Because it seemed to serve to excite them both, he moved around her, making minute adjustments to show off her beauty for him, teasing her with caresses and soft pinches. He’d explored her some before this, finding those sweet spots that enhanced her pleasure. Taking more time with it, he investigated meticulously, adding mouth, tongue, and the occasional edge of teeth to test every bit of her. The nape of her neck, in the hollow revealed by the short, silken nap of black fringe at the base of her skull, proved to be almost more sensitive than she could bear. Her moans and whimpers grew in pitch and frequency, a song played only for him.

Giving her time to calm herself, he smoothed caresses down her spine, then turned her head so her cheek rested on the cool tiles, telling her in a whisper that she could turn it the other direction as she needed to. She blinked at him with languorous eyes, deep as a primeval forest, her face suffused with desire. “Thank you, wizard,” she answered, and somehow he knew she meant for all of it, that this was what she’d been asking him for.

Kissing his way down her spine, he positioned himself behind her, shaping the globes of her gorgeous behind with his palms. Then put his mouth on her sex.

She convulsed, a cry of agonized pleasure ripping from her, wine-bright magic exploding in his mind with the flavor of her. He’d thought to tease her with his tongue, but he’d miscalculated the level of her tension, how precariously she’d teetered on the edge of climax, holding herself so still for him, writhing within her skin for completion.

And he… he’d miscalculated the level of savagery in himself, for he was unable to stop himself from rearing up and plunging into that ripe and ready sex. She convulsed around him, her sex as avid as her mouth had been, embracing and massaging his cock, pulling him into her so that he released almost immediately. His roar of triumphant ecstasy bounced off the glass and silver, the water beyond the arcanium shimmering in argent flames as he plunged into her sheath, joining that which he’d been separated from so violently, long ago.

She moved under him, echoing that same wordless frenzy, her guttural cries of climactic need a wine-dark harmony to his silvery magic. It had been like this in the bonding, their magic coiling together like vines, growing, thickening, creating a lattice that couldn’t be torn apart.

But this time, the focus wasn’t on tying them together. He and Nic were already bonded, with ties glaringly obvious to his magic heightened sight. Taking their melded magic, he poured it into the arcanium, bidding it to awaken, to absorb and reflect their magic. Water and fire. Sun-warmed roses and cool moonlight. The essential them.

Emptying the last of himself into her, he collapsed over and around her, wrapping an arm around her waist to snug her against him as he rolled onto his side, holding himself still buried in her, dropping his forehead, sweating silver against the tender nape of her neck, both of them panting raggedly. Exhausted from the distance they’d crossed.

It took awhile for Nic’s mind to clear, for the hot haze of blood desire to dissipate enough for her to remember who she was. Gabriel’s magic coursed through her, her heart pumping his cool water, her nerves made of singing silver, her very being possessed by him more utterly than her worst imaginings.

It was glorious and perfect. Shattering and satiating.

Leaving her hollowed out and endlessly full.

All a result of their first tentative steps into this realm of working together. Taking things slow. It was difficult to imagine how she’d feel after something more intense. No wonder Maman would collapse for days after an incantation.

She was luckier than she’d known, that Gabriel was the one. This kind of power exchange was not for the faint of heart, or the faintly cared for. Giving herself up so completely, being so rawly vulnerable like this with anyone else might indeed have broken something inside herself. She shuddered at the thought.

“Are you all right?” Gabriel murmured in her ear, brushing the lobe with a tender kiss and gathering her tighter in the circle of his arms.

For once, his solicitude didn’t exasperate her. It soothed that part of her still so terribly exposed.

“My hands are numb,” she admitted. He pulled out of her with a muttered oath, his nimble fingers that had tormented her so deftly and with such devastating thoroughness loosening the knot on the rope that had bound her so erotically. Though she appreciated the rush of feeling to her hands, she also missed Gabriel’s comforting embrace. So, an even greater admission, she added, “But I think I need to be held still.”

“Oh, Nic…” He sounded ragged as he gathered her onto his lap, sitting cross-legged and wrapping himself around her. Sheltered in the protective strength of his body, she calmed, the flayed bits of her heart knitting together again. “It was too much,” he said.

“No, it was just right,” she breathed, becoming aware that the lantern flames had all gone out, replaced by a cooler, silver white, much brighter light. “Look.”

He lifted his head, then tilted it back to follow the direction of her gaze, his breath easing out in wonder at the sight. The silver structure of the arcanium glowed, currents of magic running like contained lightning through the struts and bars framing the panes of glass. They seemed to pulse in a regular pattern, streaming up to flow in a circle around the moon window above. The window panes themselves shimmered like water made solid. Perhaps they had been made of water originally, as Gabriel had remarked the stone of the arcanium door seemed to be.

If so, the arcanium had been constructed via an immense wielding of power. More so than even her father commanded. Papa couldn’t transmute materials like this. And if the Elal arcanium was capable of storing this amount and intensity of magical energy, well… She just didn’t think it was, or she’d have sensed it.

More to the point, if the Phel wizards had been so powerful, how had that magic collapsed so completely that it vanished within a couple of generations? And, why had it appeared again and with such potency in Gabriel and Seliah?

“It’s phenomenal,” Gabriel breathed. “Though I’m not sure I fully understand what it means.”

Her heart fairly burst with love for him, that he could be so masterful in one moment, so deftly commanding her and drawing the magic from her in perfect streams of control—once he stopped dithering about the morality of it—and then so willing to expose his ignorance in the next. Laying a hand on his cheek, she drew his wondering gaze down to hers, brushing the soft silver shadow growing along his jaw. He must’ve skipped shaving that morning, what with sleeping in the stables, then forgotten after he fell asleep in the bath. Giving him a long, lingering kiss, she poured her feelings for him into the caress, as if her lips could convey what she didn’t have the nerve to speak aloud. And not only because he wouldn’t believe her, thinking her mind and will compromised by the Fascination and the bonding.

“What was that for?” he asked with a quirk of a smile.

“A reward,” she replied lightly. “What this means,” she continued, before he could question her further, “is that we’ve awakened the arcanium. There is a huge amount of stored magic here. Water and moon intertwined. Do you feel it?”

“Yes,” he answered in a reverent tone, wizard-black gaze following the rivers and runnels of sparking magic.

“You know, I’ve been thinking of the water and moon magic in you as two different categories, but now I’m wondering if they aren’t two sides of the same coin. One feeding into the other, a kind of transmutation.”

He studied her face thoughtfully. “That could be.” Adjusting his embrace so he could look at her more fully while still holding her, as she’d asked him too, he tilted his head. “Tell me truly, though—how are you? Was what we did just now…” He trailed off, not quite able to frame the question.

“It was perfect,” she told him, holding his gaze and hoping he’d feel her absolute sincerity. “I won’t pretend that it didn’t leave me feeling a little fragile, but it was exactly right.” He hadn’t even caused her any pain, and yet that sensation of being helpless in his control… She shivered, and his arms tightened around her. “I feel a bit hollow,” she admitted.

“You’re pale,” he observed, “and your magic is…”

She tipped her chin at the arcanium. “It’s there. Transmuted by you into water and moon magic, stored here so you can use it.”

He absorbed that information. “I can access it without touching you?”

“Feels that way to me. Do you disagree?”

“No,” he replied slowly, gaze going a softer black as he focused his attention on his wizard senses. “But I didn’t know that was possible.”

“I’m not sure it is, for any other wizard but you. Maybe all House Phel wizards can do it, but since you’re the only one, we can’t know. Still, that the arcanium functions this way is a strong argument that they could. I think you should experiment.”

“Right.” He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “That’s what we intended.”

Extricating herself from his embrace, she got to her feet, feeling more than a little creaky. Gabriel watched her stretch, more concern in his eyes than lust, and she went to the cabinet where she’d put her clothes, dressing again. “I think you should raise the manse,” she suggested, when he continued to sit there in deep thought, naked and cross-legged, like a sculpture carved in homage to masculine beauty.

“What—now?” His gaze sharpened, a hint of alarm in his expression.

“Don’t think,” she warned him. “Just do it, while you’re in the flow of all this magic, all of it focusing on you in the center of the arcanium. Your ancestors likely sat in that very spot to accomplish the feat in the first place. House Phel wants to rise again. Lift it up and stabilize it. You have a world of magic waiting to do exactly that.”

“Without you?” he asked, uncertain.

“You already have me.” She gestured to the fiery silver rivers. “This is easy for you, Gabriel. It’s been done before. You’re simply restoring what was there before. Just do that: put the manse back where it belongs.”

He nodded, closed his eyes, and took in a long meditative breath. As he bowed his head, his silver curls fell around his beautiful face, and Nic carved the sight into her memory. This night would be one she would remember forever.

Gabriel’s magic streaked through and around her, the water beyond the arcanium illuminating, fine bubbles streaming along the outer glass. The lens of the moon window glowed as if lit from within, a full moon shedding her silver light on her favored child. Beyond the closed door, a quiet rumble throbbed, like distant thunder. The magic quaked, pulsed like a heartbeat, like surf crashing onto shore. Once. Twice. Thrice.

And then quiet.

The arcanium still shimmered, but more like moonlight on water than lightning. Gabriel opened his eyes, fastening them immediately on her. “I did it.” His voice was hushed with awe but held no doubt.

“Of course you did.” She nearly burst with pride. As much grief as she’d given him, he’d mastered a truly tremendous feat of magic with only a bit of teaching. It was important that he believe how possible it was, but Nic knew full well how few—if any other—Convocation wizards could come even close. It was a relief, too, to have the manse raised and stabilized before any other wizards arrived to witness the difference. Yes, the folk of Meresin would talk about the seeming miracle, but the wizards of other houses would put it down to the exaggeration of common folk. They wouldn’t realize how truly spectacular a feat Gabriel had wrought, and that was for the best. Let them underestimate House Phel for the time being. Nic went to Gabriel and held down her hand. “Why don’t you get dressed, and let’s go see?”

He drew the tendrils of his attention back from the distant spaces, giving every impression of a man setting down a precarious load, watching it settle as he gradually withdrew his support. Using her hand for help, he got to his feet, wincing. “Are you this stiff and sore?”

“It’s a hard floor. Maybe you’ll listen to me next time when I say a mattress is a good idea.”

Sliding an askance gaze at the unused silver bed pushed off to the side, he winced. “I’m not sure I’m ready to escalate just yet.” He squeezed her hand, studying her with that concern in his eyes. “I can feel how low your magic is now.”

“It will come back,” she promised. “That was a major incantation, and, while your control was enhanced by your attention on erotic control, you’re still heavy-handed.”

He winced. “I apologize.”

“No need.” She swept a hand at the glowing arcanium. “It wasn’t wasted. Look how much is still stored even after you raised and stabilized the entire manse, all at once. Get dressed and let’s see what you’ve wrought.”

He didn’t move, instead drawing her near and slipping his arms around her waist, snugging her lower body against him. “What we’ve wrought. I said I did it, but we both know this was a result of our combined efforts. I could never have done this without you, my heart.”

My heart.Her own tripped with pleasure—and nerves. It was odd to be dressed while he was naked—and tempting to run her hands over him. But she was depleted. If she seduced him into more sex, she might replenish her magic some, but she’d likely sleep through the next day, which would only alarm Gabriel. Besides, she needed to be up and ready to greet the wizards.

Going up on her toes, she kissed him and grinned. “Well, I want to see what we’ve wrought. If you want to prance around naked, I’m good with that.”

He mock growled. “I never prance.”

“Could be a sight to see.” With nowhere to sit—they really needed to get some furniture down here, too—she plopped herself on the floor, struggling to pull on the disgustingly wet leather boots. “I swear these things shrunk,” she complained. “I’ll probably get a foot fungus, and then—”

A familiar silver buzz zinged through her, and the leather boot dried, turning supple under her hands. Surprised, she glanced at Gabriel, who was lacing his pants—alas, for that—and watching her with a smug smile. “Nice trick,” she acknowledged.

“I can feel that connection to you,” he replied. “As if I could use your own water magic through you to do that,” he added thoughtfully.

Hmm.That was interesting. She didn’t want to get his hopes up about the reciprocal bonding, but this could be a result. Unless other wizards and familiars could do that sort of thing and didn’t talk about it, which was possible.

When both of them were dressed, he dialed open the door from the arcanium to the tunnel. Nic whistled in appreciation at the sight. The formerly flooded, dank, and dark tunnel was now dry, even welcoming. Silvery light emanated from almost concealed silver ribs rimming the tunnel all down its length. “So much better,” she declared, stepping onto the polished stone floor. “Well done.”

Gabriel followed cautiously after. “I didn’t do this.”

She cocked a dubious brow at him. “Some other wizard, then?”

Shaking his head, he slanted her a dry look. “I mean, this wasn’t part of my intention. I wasn’t thinking specifically about this tunnel.”

“But you were thinking about the entirety of the house, about putting it back how it was, dry and stable, yes?”

“Yes,” he replied, though clearly unconvinced. “But that was long before my time. I never saw the manse intact, or this tunnel like… this.”

“The magic knows. It’s embedded in every stone, every silver frame and drop of water in this place. That’s part of inheriting a house. Not only does the magic come to you through your forebears, the entirety of House Phel does, too. The material and immaterial aspects.”

He was quiet until they reached the door to the main house, opening it into the same dark back room of the cellars as before, though considerably drier. “This hasn’t changed.”

“I suspect the unprepossessing entrance to the arcanium is deliberate,” she suggested. “No sense advertising its location.”

“Except for the glowing glass dome shining through the lake,” he noted wryly.

“Aha. I’d put down good money on a bet that no one but us can see it.”

“Really?”

“We can test it, but I’m fairly certain.” She followed him up the cobwebbed stairs to the unused kitchens, shadowed and empty still, but the walls subtly straighter, the floorboards more solid. “To the arcade or outside?”

“Arcade,” he decided, gesturing her to the dining hall. “Nic, I’m thinking about what you said just now, about how I’ve inherited this whole metaphysical weight of House Phel along with my own wizardry and this rotting heap of a manse.”

“Not rotting anymore,” she pointed out as they stepped into the dining hall. “We need to light some sconces.” She’d be so happy when they got some light-producing fire elementals in her trousseau and dowry goods.

“Allow me,” he said wryly, and the room flooded with silver-white moonlight.

“Well done,” she said, blowing him a kiss. Going to the door to the receiving salon, she waited for Gabriel to open it, a smile on her face for his obvious reluctance, excitement making her giddy. He doubted still, but she didn’t. “Voila!” she squealed as they peered in. The once slanting, soggy room sat square and dry. The carpets hadn’t magically unrotted, and no furniture had miraculously appeared—if only!—but it smelled like dry, seasoned wood, and it looked like a place people might not be afraid to occupy. Clapping her hands together, she skipped across to the door to the arcade. “Open it and let’s see!”

He hesitated. “Nic, about what I was saying…”

“Gabriel Phel, if you don’t open this door right now, I’m going to kick you! This is the fun part of magic. I want to see what you’ve done.”

“What we’ve done,” he said, but the correction sounded automatic. He unsealed the doorway he’d sealed again after their previous failures. Magic stirred as he put his barrier into place, though Nic could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t finding water on the other side to wall off. Cautiously, he edged the door open and peered through, his body going rigid with shock.

Unable to bear the suspense, Nic pushed past him, gasping in delight at the gracious old architecture restored to its former glory. A parquet floor had lurked under the realm of fish and water snakes, now dry and gleaming under the moonlight streaming through the open arches, amplified with Gabriel’s help. Nice of the moon to come out and shed her light on Gabriel’s feat. Feeling exuberant at the possibilities, Nic broke into a run, dashing down the long arcade. Reaching the center, she stopped and spun, arms flung wide.

“Look, Gabriel!” she sang out. “Look how beautiful it is.”

He followed more slowly, almost grudgingly, but at least stirred from his frozen contemplation in the doorway. She met him partway, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him into an impromptu dance. He moved with her, though not fluidly, his attention on the flying buttresses, the elegant arches, even the parquet floor as she spun them in a slow circle. “Do you dance? I don’t think I’ve ever asked.”

“What?”

“Never mind. A conversation for another time. Enjoy the moment.”

“I want to say I don’t believe it,” he said, his deep voice echoing in the perfect acoustics.

“But you do believe it,” she told him. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have accomplished this.”

“I never saw the arcade like this. I mean, I know I said that already, but there are details here that weren’t here before. Pieces that had rotted or broken away.”

“The house remembers,” she reiterated. “You have it in here.” She laid a hand over his breast, firmly reassuring him.

“But what about you?” he asked, stopping their spin, looking at her somberly. “What about the entirety of House Elal’s magical legacy?”

A familiar pain twinged in her own breast. “I know I mentioned before—my sister, Alise, has manifested as a wizard. Papa is training her to take over House Elal. That inheritance will be hers.”

“How do you bear it?” he whispered. “Giving all of that up.”

“I bear it because I have no choice,” she replied crisply. “It’s that or collapse under the weight of disappointed hopes, and you should know me well enough by now that I’m not someone who gives up without a fight.” She tugged out of his arms.

“I’m sorry, Nic. I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t.” She’d cut off his words perhaps too abruptly, but she didn’t want to hear his pity for all she’d thought she’d be and have and never would. “I’d rather focus on this brilliant success, Gabriel,” she said more kindly. “Let’s see the rest of the manse.”

“I thought you said you’re worn out?”

“Magically, not physically.” She held out a hand to him in invitation, in apology. “I’d rather explore the rest of House Phel with you, while we have it all to ourselves.”