“Did he give the impression of someone who misses anything?”
Liris frowned. “No. But he did seem angry about the whole situation. If anything, I got the impression he didn’t want to kill me. I didn’t think he’d be so indiscriminate as to try to kill me with a demon portal.”
Lord Vhannor thought about that for a moment. “He might have thought this region was too strategically insignificant, and it wouldn’t be prioritized for an investigation until too late. Yenti’s remoteness is what got my attention—communities like these know everyone’s business, so it should be hard for demon sympathizers to infiltrate. There’s no history of the black flame here.”
His tone was back to its detached state again, which made it hard to read him.
Not impossible, though. And despite the grim subject matter, and how reassuring it had been to be able to briefly rely on it, Liris found herself wanting to find out how much poking it would take for that inner gold in his eyes to spread.
“Strange as it sounds, we were lucky,” Lord Vhannor was saying, bringing Liris back to her present, literally being carted around by the Lord of Embhullor—pressed against his body—“If I weren’t who I am, I wouldn’t have had the authority to bring you in when my attempts to decipher that language weren’t turning anything up. And if any official operative besides me had found the one person who could decipher it, they’d have arrested you and asked questions later. There are procedures to follow when a demon portal is involved.”
Liris tensed. “I can’t help anyone from prison.”
“Of course you could, but it would be a waste. Oh for the love of—settle down, I’m not threatening you. I’ll have to make a report, but I understand enough already of what must have happened to be sure I can make an exception to keep you out of jail. No matter how you answer me.”
“Answer?”
She thought he tensed slightly. Interesting.
“I have a proposition for you,” Lord Vhannor said slowly, “that will solve problems for both of us. You know of Embhullor’s university?”
“Yes, though not a great deal beyond its renown. I hadn’t specialized training yet.”
“Really? At your age?”
Liris clenched her teeth. “Yes.”
Lord Vhannor was quiet for a moment. “Ah. I suppose I can see that. Serenthuar...”
“If you are withholding comment on my realm of origin to spare my feelings, please understand I have no more loyalty to the people who decided it was acceptable to sacrifice me to the cause of demons.”
He adjusted his grip on her legs. “Admirable. But in my experience feelings take longer to change than events, and I do not need to make that process any harder.”
That sounded reasonable in theory, except that the advice came from a man who appeared to suppress his emotions habitually.
Then again, maybe that’s how he knew.
“I will assume, however, that you are no longer concerned with their strictures against your involvement with spellcraft?”
Liris froze. Did he mean—? “Not in the slightest.”
“The University of Embhullor is home to the foremost spellcasting college in the Sundered Realms,” Lord Vhannor began, “as well as the current base for official international dispelling missions, SRSA’s Special Operations.”
“SRSA” stood for Sundered Realms Spellcraft Administration.
“Special Operations” was a fancy way of saying demon hunters.
“I know,” Liris breathed. “But I wasn’t aware the Lords of Embhullor were associated with it beyond official funding obligations.”
And she really should have been. Surely this went beyond Serenthuar keeping spellcraft education from their candidates—this was politics, and she’d have needed to know in any position. Why would the elders have hidden this from her?
“I’ve taken a more hands-on approach than my predecessors,” the current Lord of Embhullor said blandly. “To be blunt, I’m the head of both the university and the Special Operations office.”
Of course he was. Of course he was. Void everything.
“And if you have any interest in spellcraft, you would be a natural.”
...Okay, that was not where she’d thought this was going.