Bright Familiar by Jeffe Kennedy

~ 15 ~

The receiving room adjacent to the family dining hall was far from ready, so Nic skipped protocol and had everyone simply convene at the dining table. Wizards and familiars sat or mingled, sipping from the sadly mediocre wine Nic had discovered. She sipped hers and barely avoided wrinkling her nose at the unfinished sharpness. Gabriel flat refused to buy anything from Elal, so she’d have to find a decent alternate source of wine. There was no point in setting up a livable manse and serving excellent food, only to have it accompanied by terrible wine. Something else for the list.

“Nic!” Quinn held out a hand to Nic, squeezing it warmly when Nic took hers. Sage, looking a bit tired—and no wonder with all the windows they’d glassed in—nodded to Nic and wandered off discreetly to chat with Wolfgang and his familiar. Quinn tugged Nic off to a quiet corner. “Do you have a moment to catch up?”

“It might take more than a moment,” Nic replied with a smile, “but yes. Lord Phel has some other business and might be some time yet.”

“So what is he like?” Quinn widened her pretty blue eyes and mock shuddered. Or maybe the shudder wasn’t faked. “He’s terribly powerful, I can sense that much, but is he cruel to you?” Her gaze drifted to Nic’s healed throat, and she lowered her voice. “There have been rumors.”

“What rumors?” Nic asked, laughing as if entirely amused by the possibility.

Quinn glanced about. “That you tried to run.”

“Really?” Nic rolled her eyes. “And how would I have accomplished that?”

With a relieved smile, Quinn relaxed and laughed. “Well, I certainly don’t know. And it’s clearly not true, because here you are, duly bonded to Lord Phel.” Her statement held a hint of a lilt, an unasked question.

“I am,” Nic replied firmly. “And most content to serve my wizard in every way possible. Also, I’m Fascinated by him, which means I couldn’t have run, even if it occurred to me.”

Quinn gave her an odd look. “But Fascination isn’t real.”

“Are you sure?”

“They said so at Convocation Academy,” Quinn replied. “Why would you doubt our teachers?”

“My maman believes it’s real.”

“Oh, well, Lady Elal.” The way Quinn said that had Nic raising her brows.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, really,” Quinn hastily reassured her. “You know how it with the lords of High Houses, though, especially powerful ones like your father.”

Nic did and didn’t, but before she could probe more, Quinn continued, speaking rapidly. “So, what’s it like? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to be working with my sister. We’re lucky to be so compatible, and our bonding keeps everything in the family.” In a perhaps unconscious gesture, Quinn ran a hand through her chin-length curls, her gaze going to Sage, whose fair hair was elaborately coiled for dinner. “But I wonder what it’s like to be bonded to a wizard who is also your lover,” she finished wistfully. Then her gaze sharpened on Nic’s face. “Or does that make it worse?”

Nic had no idea how to answer that. “I have no basis for comparison,” she offered, but even as she said it, she knew with crystal clarity that she wouldn’t change a thing. She loved the partnership she and Gabriel were forming, and she couldn’t imagine now dividing their erotic interplay from the magical variety. “He is not cruel to me, quite the opposite,” she added, wanting to get that particular question answered. She laid a hand over her belly. “And it is lovely to have my husband, the father of my child, also be my wizard. There’s a satisfying unity in that.”

“I’ll bet,” Quinn replied, then made a face. “My family wants me to be bred. Sage has the list of matches for me.”

“Oh,” Nic said, feeling like she should say more, but what was there to say?

Quinn nodded, as if Nic had said something important. “Sage has promised to pick a man I’ll like. She suggested that she pick one who could partner with both of us—our family will want her to produce heirs, too, after all—and that way our children would be more siblings than cousins.”

Nic didn’t ask Quinn how she felt about that idea. It was clear on Quinn’s face, and besides, how a familiar felt wasn’t important.

“She’s a good sister,” Quinn added on a sigh. “And really very considerate of me.”

“Does she think that if the pair of you share a lover or husband, it would keep you closer?” Nic asked on impulse. Something she probably would never have asked another familiar before.

Quinn gazed at her in predictable shock. “Why would Sage give any thought to that?”

“She’s a good sister,” Nic echoed. “Maybe she thinks if she chooses someone for you both, that she’s protecting you. And it wouldn’t occur to her that you might want to choose someone for yourself.”

Quinn blinked. “I don’t get to choose someone for myself.”

“Not even off the list?” Nic prodded, a part of herself standing back in surprise. “What if you asked Sage to let you meet the candidates, get to know them, and then tell her which you like?”

“How would we possibly do that?” Quinn asked, bewildered. “That’s if I even dared ask.”

“What can it hurt to ask? Ask when the two of you are alone and find out what she thinks. If she’s willing, we could invite the candidates here to House Phel, to court you.”

“Nic…” Quinn trailed off, flabbergasted, yet with a glimmer of impossible hope in her eyes. “Would Lord Phel allow that?”

“Yes,” Nic replied firmly. “He’s not the usual sort of Convocation wizard. He would absolutely be in favor of this.”

Quinn gripped Nic’s arm. “Do you really think so? I mean, let me talk to Sage.”

“You do that,” Nic replied warmly. “And if necessary, I’ll ask Gabriel to discuss with her.”

“No, I’ll talk to her. We’re close. And she’s a good sister.”

Nic couldn’t help laughing. “So I hear.”

Just then, a servant signaled of Gabriel’s approach, so Nic rang a bell to ask everyone to take their seats. They rose again as Gabriel entered the hall. He visibly flinched at the sight of the more than two dozen people seated at the long table, but to his credit, he soldiered on, drawing his brooding and forbidding persona around him like a cloak, wizard-black eyes fastened on Nic as he strode to his place at the head of the table. He looked so commanding, shimmering with silvery-cool magic, that she shivered—and she let the gathering see her visceral response to her wizard. All of them had fallen silent when Gabriel entered the room, rising to their feet in deference.

Gabriel reached her position at his left, lifted her hand and kissed it, lips twisting wryly. “Lady Phel.”

“Lord Phel,” she replied in an equally grave greeting. Tipping her head slightly to their audience, wizard-black and jewel-bright familiar eyes alike studying him with interest, she mentally urged him to welcome them and allow them to be seated.

Turning to the gathering but keeping her hand, he took his time evaluating them, making a show of examining the wizards and familiars he’d not yet met, nodding here and there to the ones he had. “Welcome to House Phel,” he told them, his voice like rocks, making it sound like a command rather than a greeting, which worked just fine. “Be seated.”

He sat, too, taking the glass of wine she poured him as muted conversation resumed. Servers streamed out of the kitchen, carrying trays with plated dinners. As Nic had instructed, one set a plate before Gabriel first, then her, before working their way down the table. She examined her own plate critically. Not quite as she’d envisioned, but remarkably close given the short prep time. They’d get better.

“So,” Gabriel muttered under his breath, “we have a full kitchen and serving staff now?”

“The word ‘full’ would be a bit of an overreach, but we’re getting there. Enough to plate and serve food for the family dining hall, anyway.”

“Set out a buffet and let them serve themselves.”

“Ah, but then they’d eat more, going back for seconds, and even thirds. This way, they get what they get, they leave once dessert has been served and consumed, and we control the costs.”

He considered her a moment, then held up his glass in a toast. “You are a remarkable woman, Lady Phel.”

“Remember that,” she smirked, even as Asa, to her left, lifted his own glass, echoing the toast, which rippled down the table. “They won’t start eating until you do,” she said under cover of the cheers.

“Figures,” he grumbled, his knowing look reminding her of their first meal together, when he’d begun to outwit her with his game of matching her bite for bite. But he set into eating with gusto, raising his brows at her in surprise.

“Daisy’s menu and recipes,” she confirmed. “I figured that if I had to torture you with a formal dinner, I could at least arrange for you to have Momma’s cooking. And she was happy to have a job.”

Under the table, he set a hand on her thigh and squeezed it. “Did they teach that in Care and Feeding of Wizards 101?” he asked, eyes dancing with the intimate joke.

“Did they really have that class at Convocation Academy?” Asa asked in surprise, clearly listening in. He nudged Laryn on his other side. “You should’ve taken that course,” he teased.

Nic schooled her expression but internally winced at Asa’s poor joke—and at Laryn’s barely suppressed glower.

Wolfgang, across from Laryn, ran a hand over his familiar’s hair. “I can vouch that Costa must have gotten high marks in that class. He takes excellent care of me.”

Costa blushed and squirmed in his chair, his gaze going to Wolfgang worshipfully. “I try,” Costa murmured, leaning into Wolfgang’s caress.

Gabriel gazed on the display with some distaste for Costa’s submissive behavior, but thankfully didn’t comment. Instead he cocked his head at the empty chair on his right. “Are we missing someone?” he asked Nic.

“Seliah sent her regrets,” Nic replied for the benefit of everyone listening in. “Your sister had other obligations this evening but hopes to make it in the future.”

“Does she?” Gabriel asked, his befuddlement clear.

“Yes,” Nic replied firmly. “I expect she’ll be able to join us for family dinners very soon.”

Whatever Nic was up to, Gabriel figured she knew what she was doing. So, he nodded and grunted, also glad his persona made that kind of response perfectly fine.

Nic’s strategy workedwell enough that everyone dispersed after the simple but delicious dessert of fresh strawberries glazed with orange-blossom honey, served with newly whipped cream. It helped that she mentioned that brandy would be served in the north-wing common room.

“We’re giving them brandy, too?” Gabriel asked blackly as the last of them meandered out of the room.

“Not the best stuff,” she soothed, though it wasn’t as if they had any that was very good, “and they won’t linger, as the common room is far from comfortable yet.”

“I’m surprised it’s adequate for serving brandy.”

“Just barely,” she confided.

“You’ve been busy today, accomplishing amazing feats of hospitality.”

Wasn’t that the truth. “I don’t know about amazing feats,” she temporized, “but enough to keep our current roster of residents happy, and happy wizards are productive wizards who will more than earn their keep. And if they don’t, we give them the boot.”

“I look forward to that part.” He put his arm around her, snugging her against his side. “What makes familiars happy?”

“That’s easy. Happy wizards.”

He slid her a look. “I want to think you’re teasing, but I don’t think you are.”

“Well, there’s a great deal of truth in it.”

Pausing at the junction where they’d either turn toward the arcanium passageway or toward the staircase to the master suite, he glanced at her. “What would make you happy now?”

It wasn’t difficult to know what he was really asking. As much as she’d been looking forward to time in the arcanium with him, Gabriel had clearly worn himself out on every level, between the backbreaking work at the levee and dealing with strange wizards and assorted entourages. His steps had been heavy, and while his magic shone brightly, he looked tired. She was tired too, she had to admit. And her conversation with Quinn lingered in her mind. I wonder what it’s like to be bonded to a wizard who is also your lover.

“It might be nice to do something really kinky—for us—and have sex in a bed for once,” she suggested with a saucy smile. “Unless you’re too tired for it.”

His black gaze fired, and before she saw him move, he’d swept her into his arms, carrying her laughing up the stairs, taking the steps two and three at a time. “The day I’m dead,” he declared, elbowing open the door to their suite, “is the day I’m too tired to bed you, my heart.”

“See?” she replied with a purr. “That’s how you make a familiar happy.”

More people thanshe’d expected gathered the next morning at the levee, particularly given the heavy overcast. Dark-bellied clouds loomed over them, promising torrential rain even to her untutored eye. That didn’t seem to deter the locals or dim their merriment as they turned out in a horde to witness the magical levee rebuilding. More people had gathered, in fact, than she’d realized lived in the vicinity of House Phel. Men and women in coarser clothing suitable for field work, others dressed more for indoor, less filthy pursuits. Children ran about shrieking like it was a festival. The newly arrived wizards and familiars, hearing that Lord Phel would be putting on a practical display of his wizardry, had also made the walk over. They stood in a convivial group, Laryn holding an open umbrella as she scowled at the threatening sky.

Even Narlis had attended with Daisy and GF. The old familiar wore a broad-brimmed hat that partially obscured her face as she looked about with interest, if of a hazy variety. Narlis beamed as she spotted Gabriel, quickening her step to reach up and pat him on the cheek. “You’re a good boy,” she told him.

“What’s going on?” Gabriel asked his parents. “It’s not a party.”

Daisy made a face and patted his cheek also. “That’s where you’re wrong,” she corrected cheerfully. “Everyone is miffed they didn’t get to see you and Nic raise the manse. They’re not going to miss this display.”

“They’re excited, son,” GF added. “It’s good for your people to see the strength of their new lord.” He slid a look to Nic and winked conspiratorially.

Gabriel opened his mouth—to deliver some scathing remark, no doubt—but Nic threaded her arm through his. “It is good,” she said, tilting her head at the cluster of their guests, including ones who’d arrived just that morning. She had yet to meet any of those, as she and Gabriel had opted to enjoy a private breakfast on their balcony, then went directly to the library to dispense with the most urgent correspondence. No word still from Elal, something she was trying to resign herself to. Nor had the Convocation replied, a silence that began to feel more and more like a sword poised over their necks. It was possible the proctor Gabriel had agreed to host would simply arrive unannounced. Or that that lack of response boded something far worse.

Iblis had counteroffered for Narlis, so Gabriel, on Nic’s advice, lowered his own counteroffer. He wasn’t pleased, but she promised it was the right move. “A show of power put to productive use makes for a good tale,” she explained when Gabriel frowned. “When Iblis hears about the manse and what you demonstrate today, they’ll cut their losses.”

His gaze strayed to their guests, now representing most of the Convocation High Houses—with a few salient exceptions—along with a healthy smattering of lower-tier houses. “A show, eh?” he mused.

“A showy one,” she answered with a sparkling smile, rewarded when he snorted with amusement.

“Better get to it quickly,” GF advised, casting a wary eye at the sky, “or yon impending rain will undo all our work from yesterday.”

“Come, familiar,” Gabriel said in a pompous tone, escorting her to a rise above the levee. “Let’s show them what we can do.”

Though he’d been teasing her, hearing him address her that way gave her a surge of erotic longing that nearly took her breath away. Their lovemaking the night before had been slow and intimate, and lovely in every way, but had only scratched the surface of the need he’d kindled in her with his sensual torments.

“Yes, wizard,” she murmured in reply. Catching the flare of his magic, the heat in the wizard-black eyes that pinned her, she realized he hadn’t been teasing at all. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. A monster, indeed. And how she enjoyed being devoured.

Unwinding her hand from his arm, he placed her so she rested both hands on his lower back, then raised his hands dramatically to the heavy gray sky, the crowd hushing and growing still. Gabriel drew on her magic, an easy pull, as hers had begun greedily reaching for him the moment he addressed her as “familiar.” The sensation tugged at her with a sensual thrill, as if he’d fastened his mouth to her nipples or her sex, feeding from her and caressing in return. Needing more contact, she nestled her cheek against his side, sliding her hands around him to his flat, ridged abdomen and peeking out beneath his muscled arm. Her wizard.

Silver condensed in the air around Gabriel’s upraised hands, glittering with argent sparks. The crowd murmured, a surprised ripple growing into cheers. He didn’t need the moon magic for the levee work, she suspected, so he’d added that bit for the show she’d requested. Clever.

In the great pit of the levee, mud boiled, turning in a circle as he stirred it with his water magic. Then water began to lift from the viscous mixture, condensing into great, teardrop-shaped globules that rose majestically into the air. Gabriel must have added moonlight to the water, because they glowed from within, iridescent in the gloom. He circled his upraised hands in a sweeping gesture, as if conducting an orchestra, and the assembly gasped as rain began—falling not from the clouds but rising from the ground in a steady, shimmering patter. Even Nic, who was accustomed to feats of mind-bending magic, gaped in astonished delight.

The water chimed cheerfully against the luminescent globes, which increased in size as the tiny droplets impacted their undulating surfaces before merging with them. Gabriel moved his hands in an aerial dance, directing the magnificent globes, each now as large as a person, to float over the levee in ponderous grace, soaking in the upward-falling rain. They hovered over the drying soil lightly as bubbles of soap, in as prodigious a display of power as she could wish for. And still Gabriel only sipped lightly at her magic, winding it deftly with his own as he extracted water from the saturated earthen dam.

Lowering one hand, Gabriel pointed imperiously at his father, as if directing him into life also. At GF’s command, workers rushed forward to shovel finely ground stone into the long trench. Gabriel waited for the signal, then crooked a finger at one of the water globes, coaxing it to sail lower, sifting a gentle sprinkle of water over the trench. The mix stirred itself in a figure eight pattern, moving thickly, reminiscent of bread dough. GF held up a hand to Gabriel, and the globe floated up, no longer shedding water. Workers eyed it dubiously as they shoveled in more of the ground stone, which Gabriel then watered and stirred. Working in stages, they mixed the stone and water until GF pronounced it good.

Gabriel swept both arms in a grand gesture just as thunder boomed above. A final, near-torrential rainfall of water showered upward into the globes—each now as big as a cottage—a glorious ascendence that Gabriel spun a bit of moonlight into so the upward rain shimmered with rainbows and pearlescent light. Sailing the luminescent globes to the nearby river, he burst the bubbles so they exploded with showers of glowing raindrops, falling in prismatic arcs to join the lazily flowing river. The crowd broke into applause, cheering wildly, and Gabriel took Nic’s hand, drawing her to stand beside him, holding their joined hands upraised so the jubilation grew even louder—underscored by a thunderous growl of thunder that rumbled over the land.

As if cued by the sound, the clouds released a rain of their own. Children shouted and ran about, holding out their hands as if to catch it, while the field workers seemed to barely notice. The wizards and familiars put up cloak hoods or broke out umbrellas, some walking briskly back toward the manse. GF frowned at the trench and cocked a questioning brow at Gabriel and Nic. “She’s not quite set,” he worried. “Can you keep it dry for a bit longer, just until we get the tarps in place?”

Gabriel gave her an assessing look. “How are you for magic?”

“Replete,” she assured him. “Can’t you tell?”

“I wasn’t sure if you could fake it somehow.”

“I would never fake with you, darling,” she replied warmly, and GF cleared his throat. “Apologies,” she told him, and he waved her off.

“Newlyweds,” he replied, shaking his head. “About keeping this cement dry?”

“On it,” Gabriel said, drawing on her magic a bit more. He really was getting better at it, not nearly so heavy-handed as in the beginning. The rain soaking her hair and gown abated, and she glanced up, unable to prevent a gasp of awe at the sight. It was as if she stood under a glass dome, the rain hitting an invisible ceiling and rolling down in runnels.

“Good boy,” GF chortled, clapping his son on the shoulder, then pivoted to give Nic a hard peck on the cheek. “And good girl.” He strode off, calling to the workers who were unrolling long spools of some sort of waxed canvas.

“Can you extend the rain shield enough to give the wizards a dry walk back to the house?” Nic asked.

Gabriel raised a brow, but nodded, focusing in that direction. The group hadn’t made it far yet, most of them picking their way fastidiously over the furrowed field and the rapidly forming puddles. Only Asa appeared to be comfortable, ambling along with his hands in his pockets, Laryn only a miserably trudging pair of legs beside him with her yellow umbrella covering the rest of her. They were close enough still for their exclamations of surprise to reach her as Gabriel’s shield cut off the pouring rain. Several craned their necks back to study the phenomenon as Nic had, while Asa pointed in their direction, saying something to the group, then bowed in gratitude.

“Wave,” Nic instructed, lifting her own hand in acknowledgment, pleased that Gabriel managed a similarly gracious gesture.

“Am I being powerful or generous here?” Gabriel asked.

“Both at once,” she replied promptly. “And that was truly impressive. Well done. What was the ground-stone doughy stuff?”

He laughed. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or chagrined that you petted me for a job well done without knowing what I actually did.”

She gave him an impish smile. “I don’t have to know what you actually did to understand it was good work, but I am curious. Also, if you could keep rain off of us, why didn’t you do that in Wartson for that miserable trek back to Port Anatole?”

Wincing, he interlaced their fingers and turned her to walk back to the house, keeping the rain shield over them. “It didn’t occur to me,” he admitted. “Also, since keeping company with a powerful familiar, I’ve become considerably more extravagant with magic. Keeping the rain off is a steady drain.”

She could sense that much, though she wasn’t losing magic fast enough that it was a problem. “They’ll have those tarps in place soon, I’m sure, and the minions are nearly to the manse,” she observed. “You don’t need to shelter us.”

Giving her an affectionate smile, he squeezed her hand, running a thumb over the back of it. “If we can’t use our magic for a bit of comfort for ourselves, what’s the point? I don’t have many options for spoiling my wife, but I can do this much. I know how you hate getting wet—unless it’s a hot bath.”

“Thank you.” His consideration warmed her as much as the most extravagant gift.

“You’re welcome.” Lifting her hand, he kissed it, his lips wet with rain and chilly, the stroke of his tongue against her skin hot and enticing, her loins heating immediately.

“Speaking of hot baths,” she purred invitingly, “we could go share one.”

“With wizard and familiar applicants arriving in droves every hour? I don’t think we can afford the time. Three more sets arrived while we were fixing the levee.” He shifted his hold on her hand to lightly encircle her wrist, vising gently, but just enough to send another sensual susurrus through her body. “You’ll just have to wait until we visit the arcanium tonight,” he added with a blandly wicked smile.

She nearly groaned. “It is so not fair that you can do that to me so easily.”

He sobered, wizard-black eyes burning into her. “If it’s any comfort, I’m suffering alongside you.”

“I’m not sure it is any comfort.”

“You introduced this method of magic replenishment,” he reminded her.

“Believe me, I regret it,” she bit out.

He laughed, sounding not sorry at all. “The ground-stone doughy stuff,” he said, changing the topic and answering her earlier question, “is a mix of lime, clay, and sand. When you add the right amount of water, it becomes like stone once it sets. It will form a core for the levee that won’t wash away like the packed earth does. We should’ve built it that way to begin with.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I only recently found the technique in the library—right before I came for your Betrothal Trials—and I wasn’t sure if I could pull enough water out of the existing levee, and hold the river back at the same time, until just recently.”

She returned his grin. “And now you believe.”

“This is why I did not fail,” he replied gravely, his lips twitching into a smirk.

“Ha ha. You can make fun, but—” She halted in her tracks.

Gabriel tensed, following her gaze to the elaborately gilded carriage powering around the lake. “Who is it?”

“Those are the El-Adrel house colors,” she replied through numb lips. House El-Adrel hadn’t replied to any of her overtures on a formal collaboration to develop and distribute water-based artifacts. The silence had been of concern, but it hadn’t been unreasonable to assume that El-Adrel was simply too busy raking in money to pay attention to a small business proposition from an upstart house.

Gabriel studied her with concern. “Why is this a surprise? I thought you wanted one of their junior wizards to work with us on your product line of ever-replenishing water flasks and waterproof footwear.”

“I did,” she replied, not tearing her gaze from the approaching carriage. “I do—but a visit from Lady El-Adrel herself doesn’t bode well.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows climbed, his magic bristling silver around him as he spun to face the approaching carriage. His fingers twitched by his sword hilt, and Nic put a staying hand on his arm. “She won’t be unguarded, and we don’t want to start a war with El-Adrel if we don’t have to.”

“Seems like we should just declare war on the entire Convocation and have done with it,” he muttered blackly.

“Oh yes,” she shot back in the same tone. “That’s a brilliant idea. Then we wouldn’t have to spend all this time and energy rebuilding House Phel. We could simply sink the whole thing ourselves and go live in the swamps like Seliah.”

“You say that like it would be a bad thing,” he grumbled, but his silver-sharp magic softened slightly, one corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

She wouldn’t reward his behavior by laughing. “Can you keep up the rain shield for a while?”

“Oh yes,” he replied softly, grim determination in his voice.

The carriage glided to a smooth halt, the apparent wheels—with gold spokes, no less—a clever device that could roll or glide over watery surfaces as required. Gabriel extended the rain shield to cover the ground between them and the carriage too, and a footman hopped down to open the carriage door. He didn’t move quite like a human, his skin a bronze color a bit too metallic for flesh.

“Is that guy a…?” Gabriel asked, trailing off as he searched for the proper term.

“An enchanted artifact, I’m guessing,” she replied quietly. “Like an animated doll. I didn’t know El-Adrel was doing that.”

The footman looked over at them, as if overhearing, a glint of feral intelligence in its gaze that an automaton shouldn’t have. Nic caught her breath in shock.

“What?” Gabriel asked sotto voce, his magic pricking her with urgency. “Is it a weapon?”

“I won’t say no, but I don’t think there’s any immediate danger,” she whispered back. “It is, however, animated by a spirit, rather than enchantment.” Which absolutely meant Elal was collaborating with House El-Adrel. Was it Papa or someone else, and did the Convocation know?

A tall woman stepped out of the carriage. Her glossy black hair, threaded liberally with the platinum of graceful age, flowed nearly to the ground over her simple pantsuit of gold-trimmed ivory. The El-Adrel crest of a lightning bolt—signifying their metaphorical bringing to life of mundane objects—jagged over one shoulder in glittering gilded thread. Her depthless black gaze traveled over House Phel, taking in the manse and surrounds, casually taking in the rain shield with studious boredom, before resting on Gabriel and Nic. With her height and long nose, she appeared to be gazing down from above, a goddess deigning to visit mortals. Nic had met her a few times at Convocation gatherings, but you’d never guess that from the way Lady El-Adrel studied her like an uninteresting species of bug.

Two more guards followed her from the carriage, also bronze-skinned, with alert, not-quite-human intelligence in their eyes. Her familiar followed last, a man of similar age, his auburn hair silvering, his strong body fit and muscular. Nic remembered him too, though not his name, if she’d ever learned it at all. Lady El-Adrel preferred to rule her house alone, so hadn’t granted her familiar any rank. His brown eyes sparkled with admiration as he studied Gabriel, then lit on Nic, giving her a saucy wink of solidarity that took her by surprise. Both of them familiars to powerful High House wizards made them comrades of a sort, she supposed. An odd society she’d never before had entrée to and not one she’d ever imagined existed.

“Lord Phel,” Lady El-Adrel said as if correctly identifying an unusual bird. “And Lady Veronica Phel, late of House Elal. How the mighty have…” Her black gaze lingered on Nic. “Well, ‘fell’ doesn’t quite work grammatically, tempting though the wordplay might be. Shall we go with ‘creatively reinvented themselves’?”

Nic stared back at her steadily, declining to dignify the snide remarks with a reply, nor would she meekly lower her gaze.

“Lady El-Adrel,” Gabriel rumbled, not sounding very friendly, inclining his chin just the right amount to indicate polite respect, one equal to another. “What an unexpected surprise.”

She arched one thin black brow at Gabriel’s less-than-elegant manners. “Are there expected surprises? I suppose I’m to understand from your stilted greeting that my visit is not a welcome one. And yet, you invited us.” With a snap of her fingers, she summoned one more person from the depths of the covered carriage. A man with wizard-black eyes, his mother’s nose, and his father’s auburn hair emerged, an irritated frown creasing his forehead—no doubt for his mother’s theatrics. Nic was certain she’d never seen him before and searched the archives of her brain for his identity. An El-Adrel scion, no doubt, but there were at least six, and several of them wizards. And he looked to be about ten years older than she, so they wouldn’t have any Convocation Academy friends in common. Still, she should have some idea of who he was.

“Our youngest,” Lady El-Adrel declared, giving her son an assessing look, as if checking to see that he hadn’t smudged himself somehow. “Jadren. He wishes to apply to be a junior wizard at House Phel.”