Bright Familiar by Jeffe Kennedy
~ 17 ~
Aknocking on the library doors interrupted the kiss, so Gabriel stood with a sigh for the ever-growing demands on their time, drawing Nic to her feet. Just as well. They couldn’t hide in the library forever, no matter how enticing that prospect.
“Enter,” he called. One of the younger local lads, who Nic had apparently conscripted to help out running messages around the manse, edged through the partly opened door. “Lord Phel,” he said, the impudent grin making it clear he found it weird to call Gabriel that. “There’s a lady wants to see you.”
Didn’t everyone? “We’ll be right out,” Gabriel replied. “There are so many wizards all over this place now that I can’t tell anymore when new ones arrive,” he grumbled to Nic, offering his arm.
“You’ll become accustomed to it,” she soothed. “And you’ll once again know a stranger from your own minions.”
“Minions,” he muttered darkly. “Vipers at my breast, you mean.”
“Jadren is a special case,” she conceded as he led her out of the library. The impassive neutrality in her tone gave him pause, and he glanced sharply at her.
“I know that one is particularly full of attitude, but did he say something to you?”
Nic shook her head, so immediately that he knew she was lying. “Not at all, he—”
“Be honest,” he reminded her on a growl.
“Not everything is worth discussing,” she shot back in the same tone. “I’m not fragile. I grew up in the Convocation, which means I can take a bit of snottiness and…” Her voice trailed off at the sight of the conveyance parked in the light drizzle. Even he recognized that crest, Convocation Center, and the woman descending from it: the proctor who’d presided over Nic’s Betrothal Trials.
The older woman’s steely gaze landed on Nic, her expression dour with disapproval. She carried herself with far more authority than a wizard of her mid-level abilities deserved to, especially as it was all borrowed.
“Veronica Elal,” she barked. “You have been a very naughty familiar.”
Nic didn’t falter—she wasn’t one to crumple under attack—but her magic dimmed. The abundant, rich swirl of fire and roses paled and contracted. “Proctor,” she replied in neutral greeting, saying nothing more. Gabriel realized he’d never known the woman’s name, only her title.
“And you.” The proctor transferred her dour, schoolmistress glare to him. “You were told to go home and mind your own business, Lord Phel.”
Gabriel made a show of glancing about. “And so I have,” he replied mildly enough. Then gathered his magic around him, prepared to fight for his home and his woman. “It seems that you are the one sticking her nose into my business.”
She smiled thinly. “You invited me, Lord Phel.”
Curse it, she was right. And curse Nic and her determination to smooth things over with the Convocation. “I can uninvite you, too,” he snapped, seriously considering sending a silver lance of solid moonlight through her chest. The big hole it would make—and the stunned look on her face—would be worth any repercussions. Nic squeezed his forearm lightly, as if sensing his musings.
The proctor shifted uneasily, which gave him a lovely thrum of satisfaction. Yes, be afraid of me. “I meant no disrespect, Lord Phel,” she said, far more humbly, her posture turning beseeching. “I’m here to serve and protect you. A rogue familiar is a danger to us all. With her unstable personality, undisciplined nature, and outright rebellion, an improper bonding could allow her to—”
“The bonding has been properly conducted,” Asa said, ambling up beside them with hands in pockets. He inclined his head to Nic and Gabriel both. “Wizard Asa of House Refoel,” he tossed at the proctor. “I can attest to completed bonding. And Lady Phel is in excellent health, displaying no signs of instability.” He glanced deliberately at Nic, raising a brow at the way she inclined herself against Gabriel, arm threaded firmly through his. “Nor of rebellion.”
“Thank you, Wizard Asa,” the proctor replied sourly, not sounding grateful at all. “But I will be the judge of that.” She plucked a case from the chariot, returning her glittering gaze to Nic.
Gabriel recognized the case, the elaborately carved and ancient tabernacle containing the oracle head, and he suppressed a shudder. He didn’t care for the horrifying, mummified head—though it probably had no power to harm Nic. The proctor was a different story.
“Make your evaluation and begone then,” he bit out.
“I will do so.” The proctor, confidence regained, managed to look down her nose at them. “And I will perform my duties to the Convocation at my own pace and at my own discretion. I answer to the Convocation, not to any house, no matter how high. Come with me, familiar. I require a private location where I’ll be undisturbed,” she added to Gabriel.
Though Nic didn’t move to obey, Gabriel clamped a hand over hers to keep her from going. “Lady Phel,” he emphasized, “will review her busy schedule and send for you when it’s convenient for her, at her own pace and discretion,” he added.
“That will not do at all,” the proctor replied firmly. “I answer to another authority, Lord Phel, not yours. Do not force my hand.”
“Try it,” Gabriel invited silkily, though Nic dug her nails into his arm.
“I am surprised,” the proctor said, after a significant pause, “that a young wizard from a house with such tentative status would flaunt Convocation law.”
“Law?” he shot back. “Or custom?”
“I don’t advise that you undertake to argue the finer points of Convocation laws and customs with me, Lord Phel,” the proctor replied coolly. “It’s well known that you have little experience or education in either.”
“Mine is quite good,” Asa noted almost idly. “On both counts.”
“As is mine,” Wolfgang said, joining them. “Debate team, Convocation Academy.”
“You were a legend, Wizard Ratisbon,” Asa said, giving a small salute in acknowledgment. “I was two years behind your championship win. My team also won,” he added with a smirk.
“Well met, Wizard Refoel,” Wolfgang replied, smiling broadly. “Perhaps we should start a club.”
“You should,” Sage declared as she and Quinn arrived. “Quinn here was a mock trial champion. No one knows trademark law like she does.”
“Oh, now that’s a fine idea,” Asa replied, his own smile going lethal. “I can think of several test cases for us to try. After, perhaps, we dispense with the current problem.”
“Oh, yes,” Wolfgang said with an affable wave of his hand. “Though that should be easily handled.”
“Exactly what is the current problem?” Jadren demanded, striding up and striking an insolent pose. He wrinkled his nose as if smelling something unsavory. “Ugh. One would think traveling to the swamps of Meresin would at least spare one the utter dreariness of dealing with Convocation lackeys.”
“Wizard El-Adrel.” The proctor burst out with Jadren’s title in astonishment that she barely turned into a greeting of sorts. “I didn’t expect—”
“No,” Jadren cut in. “You wouldn’t, would you?” His question was so pointed that the proctor flinched—and Gabriel wondered anew what nefarious plot Jadren represented.
“Of course, Wizard El-Adrel,” the proctor nearly stammered, lowering her tabernacle. “I didn’t mean to—”
She cut herself off abruptly, staring with goggle eyes past Nic and Gabriel. Then her expression sharpened, fury and triumph blending.
Before he even turned to look, Gabriel knew—by the prickling of incipient doom and Nic’s suppressed groan of dismay—what he’d see.
“Lord Phel!” One of the marsh dwellers, a clever tracker nicknamed Rat, called out, “I found yer wayward wildcat. Sorry about the ties, but put up a bit of a fight, she did.”
Selly.Rat had trussed her up in soft ropes that bound her arms to her sides. Selly thrashed and wriggled against them, though with little vigor, as she’d clearly been fighting them for some time. Rat tied a good knot, though. Both of them were drenched and mud-soaked.
She took one look at Nic, face contorted. “You lied!” she howled. “You didn’t teach him how to break the spell. No one believes me. No one understands what I’m saying. I’m cursed forever and now this!” She squirmed against the ropes, then broke down, bursting into sobs. Gabriel’s heart broke with her.
Gabriel dashed up the steps to embrace her. “Cut the ropes,” he said, trying to comfort Selly even as she fought him, going from defeated to frenzied in a blink.
“Ye gotta hold ’er still.” Rat had his work knife ready but hesitated. “I don’ wanna cut ’er.”
“I knew you lot would be uncivilized,” Jadren drawled, “but this is beyond the pale. There are much more sophisticated methods for subduing rebellious familiars.”
“Familiar,” the proctor snarled. “This woman is an untapped familiar.”
“What is going on?” Daisy shrieked, pushing past Gabriel to throw her arms around Selly. “My poor girl, what are they doing to you?”
“Mommy,” Selly sobbed, collapsing into their mother’s arms. “I’m so sorry, Mommy,” she hiccupped. “I didn’t mean to run away.”
“Shh, my darling. You’re all right now.”
Taking the opportunity, Gabriel snagged the knife from Rat and swiftly cut the ropes while Selly was subdued.
“I can tell you what is going on here,” the proctor declared, grabbing a hank of Selly’s mud-tangled hair and yanking her head back so his sister squealed like a kicked puppy, the proctor studying Selly’s face. “House Phel has been harboring an untapped, undocumented familiar.”
“Take your hands off my daughter,” Daisy snapped, slapping the proctor’s grip away. “Whoever you are, coming to my home and spouting nonsense.”
“Here now,” GF called, taking the steps two at a time. “What do you want with my wife and daughter? Son, who is this woman?”
The proctor turned her steely, disapproving gaze back on Gabriel. “Your sister, I presume. Has she even been tested? It’s a grave crime to hide an untested magic worker.”
Jadren muttered something nasty that Gabriel couldn’t make out. Gabriel shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, though Nic’s words rang ominously through his head. A house might try to circumvent that, for one reason or another, but the Convocation would pull El-Adrel’s status as a house before they’d allow them to hide a wizard like Jadren. That probably went for familiars, too. “House Phel will pay the fine, then.” He waved that possibility as negligible, though internally he winced at how much that might be. Especially without the Elal money, they were going to be hurting.
The proctor almost smiled—except her face would probably crack apart if she did. “Oh, no, Lord Fell, this merits far more than a mere financial penalty. This familiar is clearly insane from neglect, which doubles the crimes, as you’ve jeopardized a valuable Convocation resource in addition to violating our sacred laws.”
“My Selly has never been neglected,” Daisy protested. “She’s headstrong is all, but she’s loved. She’s with people who care for her. She’s certainly not a familiar.”
“Will you compound your crimes with bald lies?” the proctor hissed in astonished glee. Gabriel imagined her totaling up the violations in her head.
He was about to answer that—with what, he didn’t know—when Nic thrust herself forward, inserting her body between the proctor and Selly. “They didn’t know,” she told the proctor, drawing herself up into her lady of manor regal poise. “Until I arrived, Lord Phel’s family and the denizens of Meresin lacked anyone with the ability to discern that what they thought was an illness or progressive disability in Seliah actually derived from her being a powerful familiar with untapped magic.”
Daisy looked past Nic to him. “What is she talking about, Gabriel?”
He hoped he’d never again see his mother look at him with such anguish, betrayal, and furious despair. “It’s true. Nic told me after she met Selly. She was able to immediately see what we didn’t have the wit to understand.” He didn’t much care to make his house and people look any more unschooled than they already did, but he recognized the advantage of playing up their ignorance in this scenario. “That’s why I asked Rat to find Selly for us, so we could have her tested.” He nodded at the proctor, hoping he looked coolly vindicated and righteous, not desperately spinning lies.
“When Nic met Selly?” Daisy frowned. “But that was—”
“Yes, just the day before yesterday,” he cut in smoothly. “When Selly climbed the balcony and invaded our rooms.”
“She told me I was a princess under a spell,” Selly wailed softly. “And that she would tell Gabriel how to hel-help me… but she didn’t. She lied to me, Mommy.”
Nic looked so distressed that Gabriel put a hand on the small of her back, heartened when she lifted her chin. “I apologize, Daisy,” she said calmly, though her magic boiled like shredded rose petals in the vortex of a flame. “We planned to tell you, but we knew the news would be difficult, and we wanted to find Selly first.”
“Difficult?” Daisy clutched her daughter tightly. “After losing our son to this… magic, and now Selly, too—and you call it difficult?” Her voice rose perilously.
Nic stiffened under his hand. “Now, Mom…” he began.
“You told her fairy tales!” Daisy flung at Nic. “And then let her run away into the marshes.”
“I was trying to offer her a metaphor to understand herself,” Nic replied evenly, though her anguish increased.
“What’s to understand?” Daisy practically shrieked. “I don’t understand any of this!”
“Your daughter is clinically insane,” the proctor told her crisply, with not one iota of compassion. “As a familiar, she should have been identified, taught discipline, and been regularly tapped to relieve the magic building inside her. Since that has not occurred, the magic has rotted her mind. I doubt she will ever be sane.” She shook her head, tutting. “A shame, really, but that’s what comes of willful ignorance.” Her scornful gaze dusted over Gabriel and fixed on Nic. “In addition, her existence should have been reported to Convocation Center immediately upon identification. I am certain that you are familiar with Convocation law, familiar.”
Nic didn’t lower her head, but her magic quailed. “I wasn’t certain. That’s why we hoped to test her, to be sure—”
The proctor barked out a laugh. “Oh, don’t give me your lies. You are Elal to the bone with your sneaking and plotting and prevaricating. Also, you are clearly still in rebellion. Any doubt I’ve had has been thoroughly destroyed by this development.” She turned her scorn onto Gabriel. “I am taking both familiars with me to Convocation Center.”
“You and what army?” Gabriel snarled.
“I don’t need an army,” the proctor sneered. “I have the right of law and the might of the Convocation behind me.”
He looked behind her, then made a show of scanning the area. All of their new wizards and familiars, plus a generous share of House Phel workers had gathered around to watch the show. They all met his gaze with steadfast assurance. Bought loyalty, perhaps, but he was relieved Nic had insisted upon gathering these folks. They would back him.
“I don’t see any Convocation might,” he told the proctor coolly.
“When you do, it will be too late.” She said the words so matter-of-factly that the warning gave him a chill of dread. One he refused to reveal.
“This is my house,” he said, staring down the proctor, giving his mother a slight nod. “My family, my home. I do not recognize Convocation authority here.”
“Gabriel, don’t,” Nic said, turning to lay a hand on his arm. He might’ve taken her plea more seriously if she wasn’t trembling, fear chilling the green of her eyes. She talked a brave story about taking her lumps from the Convocation, carelessly assuring him that she could withstand any retraining, punishment, and discipline, but he knew her well now, and she couldn’t hide her terror from him. Not even to save him.
“Listen to your familiar, Lord Fell,” the proctor advised. “It might be your last opportunity.”
“Gabriel,” Nic said, turning so she could lay both palms flat on his chest. “She’s right. You can’t defy the Convocation and hope to keep your house status.”
“I don’t care about the house status.”
“Don’t you?” she asked urgently. “Because that status protects all of these people. Without it, everyone here will become an outlaw. And the Convocation will come in force, believe me.” When he hesitated, she continued. “Selly and I will be all right. They can help her at Convocation Center.”
“No one is taking my daughter,” Daisy declared.
“No, Mom,” Gabriel said, wrapping his hands around Nic’s wrists and holding her firmly. “No one is taking either Selly or Nic. Now that we’ve found Selly, Wizard Asa can treat her. And I’ll work to tap her magic.”
“You don’t know how,” the proctor declared, face reddening.
“I’ll learn,” he replied coolly.
“She must be tested.”
“Then test her.” He gestured to the tabernacle and its gruesome occupant. “You have the tools. And, I would hope, the expertise.”
The proctor glowered, but—pride stung as he’d hoped—nodded minutely. “I can test the familiar, but not like this. The controlled environment of Convocation Center is required. Besides which, the other familiar has crimes to answer for. She is clearly still undisciplined, rebellious, and spiteful. It’s my professional opinion that Veronica Elal be remanded into my custody, as was intended from the beginning.”
Gabriel tightened his grip on Nic, aware that it steadied her, though she lowered her gaze to stare at his chest. “Nic is my familiar, duly won and bonded. I have the documentation of my ownership.” As distasteful as those words were, he wasn’t risking anything by discarding the correct Convocation-recognized terminology. “She is mine now, I have need of her, and the Convocation cannot take her from me.”
“The bonding has not been confirmed,” the proctor reminded him cagily. Her magic flickered over them with spidery invasiveness. “More concerning to me, it appears to be… odd.”
Nic glanced up at him through her lashes, a deep-green warning. Yes, she’d told him the reciprocal bonding might look wrong to an observer. “I can’t imagine why,” he replied carelessly. “It was duly accomplished, here in my arcanium.”
The proctor looked shocked, which was satisfying except that a murmur of surprise and speculation ran through the assembly. Oh well. They would never have kept the arcanium’s existence secret for long. And Nic said other wizards acknowledged their arcaniums and still kept them sacrosanct.
“Arcanium?” his father echoed. “What are you talking about, boy?”
“Wizard secrets,” he replied, aching at the look on his father’s face. You know what they say about a man trying to straddle two worlds. He gets split up the middle, starting with his balls. That would explain the sharp pain slicing through him.
The proctor pinched her mouth in sour disappointment. “Takes more than an arcanium to make a wizard, Lord Fell.” She managed to slip the insult into the wordplay every time. “And I say your familiar is improperly bonded.”
“Examine us, then,” he replied, making certain to sound more confident than belligerent. Nic made a slight sound, and he forced himself to relax his grip on her. “We are bonded, and we have nothing to hide.”
“Don’t you?” She made it sound as if she very much doubted that. “Fine, then. Let’s settle this question, in front of all your family, as you insist.” Setting the tabernacle on the porch rail, she made a show of waving her hands in a complex incantation.
Now that he’d learned more from Nic, Gabriel recognized the showmanship in the proctor’s elaborate gestures. “Mom, Dad,” he said, “you might not want to watch this.”
“We’re not leaving you, son,” GF replied staunchly, and Daisy nodded, though she turned so Selly faced away, still weeping softly in her mother’s arms.
The doors of the foot-high tabernacle opened, a gust of foul magic billowing out. Inside the ornate interior, the mummified head opened its lapis-inlaid eyelids, staring at him with soulless eyes. He was prepared for the ghoulish sight this time, knowing its rough leathery appearance for centuries-old skin. Despite the decorations, the eyebrows made of delicately etched gold, the ruby glitter of its lipless mouth, the magic that made its gold-leaf-outlined eyes appear to be living membranes, the oracle head was still utterly revolting. The blast of ancient, twisted magic hit him just as hard, but he was able to discern more, sensing the intertwining forces of Hanneil and El-Adrel skills, with a hint of Ariel mixed in. Humans do have animal bodies, Nic had said when he’d mentioned he thought House Ariel worked on animals. Horrifying.
“Oracle,” the proctor intoned, and Gabriel set his teeth against her irritatingly officious posture, “has this wizard bonded this familiar?”
The oracle head stared at him, the prickle of its magic making his skin crawl. Nic, who’d turned to face the oracle as well, leaning against him, trembled as if she hated it, too. Gabriel held his breath, willing the thing to confirm their bonded status and end this all now.
“Yes,” the oracle head said in its toneless, inhuman voice, and Gabriel let out a relieved breath. “And no,” it added.
Behind them, the other wizards and familiars began murmuring, the lilt of surprise and doubt in their voices. Nic went thrummingly tense against him, and the proctor glared at them in thin-lipped triumph.
“Then there is no bond,” the proctor prompted.
“Incorrect. There is a bond, of a nonstandard nature.”
Nic’s groan was inaudible, but he felt it through his connection to her. She’d been right. He should’ve just done the bonding the traditional way. Except… No, the fault wasn’t theirs; it was this Convocation and its draconian laws, forcing them out of shape.
“The bond is no doubt faulty, due perhaps to the wizard’s inexperience, compounded by the familiar’s undisciplined and rebellious nature,” the proctor theorized, barely containing her glee.
“Inconclusive,” the oracle head replied, and she frowned.
“Analyze the nature of the bond,” the proctor instructed.
The oracle did not respond for some time. Around them, people shifted restlessly, sharing muttered remarks. Gabriel’s parents stood steadfast, both of them shielding Selly, watching the scene with uncomprehending horror that made his heart twist that it might be partially for him. Beneath his hands, Nic held her breath, and he tried to emulate her.
“Inconclusive,” the oracle head finally said, sparking a fresh spate of conversation in their audience.
“Hmph.” The proctor nearly spat out the incoherent sound of disgust. “There’s nothing for it, then,” she declared. “The familiar will be remanded into my custody. They will discover the flaw at Convocation Center.”
No!“The oracle head said we are bonded,” he argued.
“Heard and witnessed,” Asa called out, many of the others echoing him.
“The oracle also determined that the bond is nonstandard,” the proctor said, raising her voice so all could hear.
“There is no codicil,” Wolfgang said smoothly, “in Convocation law regarding nonstandard bonding. You have no grounds to take custody of Lady Phel.”
“Because there’s never been a nonstandard bond,” the proctor shot back. “This is unprecedented.”
“But not illegal,” Asa put in. “Lord Phel has bonded his familiar, as verified by your own oracle. That should end the matter.”
The proctor fumed, then smiled as some thought occurred to her. Turning her canny gaze on Gabriel, she nodded. “I am willing to leave the familiar with you for the time being, Lord Phel, if you can assure me of her obedience and that she is fully subject to your will. I require a demonstration of your control. To ask less would be irresponsible,” she added primly.
Gabriel inclined his head warily. Nic could fake any amount of obedience to him, he was certain. The difficulty would be in controlling himself. But he could do anything for a short time, if it meant protecting Nic.
“A simple demonstration will do,” the proctor continued. “Force your familiar into alternate form, and I’ll be satisfied.”
Behind him, Asa said something to Sage and Quinn, a relieved note in his voice. Nic closed her eyes as if in pain. His parents looked at him in utter bewilderment.
“What is she talking about, Gabriel?” his mother asked. “Alternate form?”
“I’ll explain later,” he told her, willing them both to be patient. “I will comply with this demonstration,” he said to the proctor, “but not here, in front of everyone.” Turning Nic in his arms, he caressed her cheek, hoping he looked possessive and controlling, trying to read the message in her eyes. “It’s private. Not for the eyes of commoners,” he added, desperately hoping that excuse would fly. He hadn’t seen any other wizard push their familiar into their alternate form, and Nic had expressed surprise that Lord Elal had done so to Lady Elal in front of Gabriel. He also hoped his parents would forgive him, once he explained.
Nic gave no clue, regarding him somberly. Yes, he knew what she was thinking. If this privacy gambit worked, it would buy them only a little time.
“Private, he says,” the proctor snorted. “All right, then. As I’ve requested several times now, take me to a private, quiet location.”
“I’ll arrange for one,” Gabriel told her. “We are under renovation, so I’ll require some time. We’ll convene tomorrow morning.”
“And allow this one to escape again on my watch?” the proctor demanded. “I don’t think so. It’s now, Lord Phel. Here or in private. I don’t care if it’s an empty room, but I’ll test this unknown familiar to determine her magical potential—and relative sanity—and you can demonstrate your so-called bonding.”
“Now see here,” GF protested. “What all is involved in this testing? Our Selly is a bit touchy, and I won’t stand by and let her be harmed.”
Selly looked up then, catching up with the conversation around her. “Harmed?” Then she glared at the back of Nic’s head. “You promised!” she screamed, loudly enough to crack eardrums and more than enough to startle his mother, who reflexively released Selly to clap her hands over her ears.
“No!” Gabriel yelled, lunging past Nic to grab Selly, who leapt like one of those wildcats from the western marshes onto the porch railing. Rat grabbed for her, but she skipped out of his reach with surprising speed, scampering along the porch rail at top speed. “Don’t let her get away,” he called out. There were a lot of people standing around and only one, mildly crazed young woman. They should be able to surround her.
But Selly reached the end of the porch, climbed a pillar like it was a tree, and disappeared over the roofline.
“Agile little monkey, isn’t she,” Jadren commented on a disinterested drawl.
“Stop her,” Daisy wailed.
The proctor leveled a grim look on Gabriel, as if he’d somehow planned this. “You will retrieve the familiar.”
“Yes,” he replied, seizing on the opportunity Selly’s flight had afforded. “Come on, Nic.” Taking her hand, he pulled Nic into the house.
“Leave your familiar with me,” the proctor yelled after him.
He skidded to a stop. “I need her for an incantation to recover my sister. Which order do you want me to follow?”
The proctor worked her mouth in frustration.
“She’s getting farther away,” he warned the proctor.
“Go, then,” she agreed. Gabriel was too busy running down the hall to make out what else she called after them.
“Where are wegoing?” Nic gasped as Gabriel practically dragged her down the hallway, his much greater stride leaving her scrambling, his viselike grip on her hand remorseless. “Seliah will be—”
“Selly will be fine,” he growled. “For now, anyway. I have no doubt she’ll give everyone the slip, and at least out in the marshes she’s safe from your Convocation.”
“They’re not mine,” Nic protested, though it was reflexive. Her brain wasn’t working quite right, still numb from the emotional shock of seeing her Betrothal Trials proctor again. She knew the Convocation would send someone, and she even got the logic of sending the same proctor, but somehow she’d hadn’t been prepared for the brutal reality. Those long months she’d spent locked in her tower room, the proctor’s regular examinations and caustically patronizing remarks. That had been one world, her previous life. To have that woman appear here, in this place she’d begun to make into a home, sullying a house she and Gabriel had literally raised together from the muck and were building into something truly beautiful… well, it had been a shock.
If her brain were working better, she’d be able to think of a better way to phrase it to herself.
Gabriel wrenched open the door to the cellar, pausing only to tell her to close it behind them, then careened down the rickety wooden steps. Part of her mind that was keeping the endless lists on house renovations noted that they should fix those. The other part was sitting up and paying attention at the possibility of visiting the arcanium and all of its dark delights.
“We’re going to the arcanium?” she panted. “Now? But what about—”
“Whatever you’re worrying about, I don’t care,” Gabriel bit out. “It’s you I need to protect.”
Nic rolled her eyes to herself. Wizards. At least she could forever throw this back in Gabriel’s face if he ever again balked when she mentioned the nature of wizards. “You can’t seal me in the arcanium.”
He skidded to a stop. “Why not? That might actually work. They’re sacrosanct, right? No one can enter another wizard’s arcanium.”
“True. So when you find my desiccated corpse after I’ve died of thirst and hunger, no one else will have disturbed my bones,” she observed drily.
“I would bring you food. And water, as you’ve so often observed, is not an issue.” He grinned briefly, then strode on.
Since she was a patient and forbearing soul, she didn’t point out that he had a grip on her like a constrictor slowly squeezing the life from its prey. “If wizards could get away with imprisoning their familiars in their arcaniums, they no doubt would.” Nic drew in a deep breath when Gabriel paused to magically extract a fistful of silver nails from the door leading to the tunnel.
“I didn’t want anyone opening this door and finding the tunnel by accident,” he explained to her questioning look, closing the door behind them and sending the nails flying to seal it again. “I know no one can enter the arcanium without us, but better to keep the curious from getting close.”
“It’s good thinking. Proper wizard paranoia. I’m so proud.” She pretended to wipe away a tear.
“You get more sarcastic when you’re upset,” he noted, charging down the tunnel. “So I’ll let that go.”
“Do I? And here I thought my sarcasm was all-purpose, wear anywhere, use anytime.”
“That too,” he muttered, pausing at the final doorway. He already had a grip on her, so he pulled the magic easily, blending it with his own to spiral the door open. “Get inside.”
She obeyed, though his high-handedness irritated her. “As much as I love it when you order me around, my only love, I really don’t—”
“Have time to argue,” he interrupted. “We’re going to need a lot of sex magic. Take off your clothes and kneel.”
