Page 6 of Rogue Familiar

Selly sat back, considering that. Jadren also believed that she didn’t know her own mind and heart. “Is it a wizard-thing or a man-thing, them thinking they know us better than we know ourselves?”

“Both?” Nic laughed wryly, shaking her head. “And it hardly matters. We’ll just have to stick to our lines in the sand. So, what will you do?”

Selly really liked that Nic asked her. It seemed like, ever since she’d regained her sanity—well, and including for years before that, however dimly she recalled them—people had been telling her what she should do and why. The bitter irony was, now that someone was actually asking her, Selly only wanted to know what Nic thought she should do. This was part of being an adult, though, making her own choices. Good information helped, however. “Where do you think Jadren will go?”

Nic considered that. “That’s an interesting thought problem. You know him better than anyone. Where do you think he will go?”

“Not back to House El-Adrel.” Selly knew that much.

“No, I imagine not.”

“But he doesn’t have much of anywhere he can go, does he?” Selly asked. “He’ll need a place to live, an income. You know the Convocation better than I do—can he get hired at another house without his mother’s permission?”

“Theoretically, yes, but in practice no—not without an MP scorecard. Not unless he convinces someone to take him on under the table. I don’t see that happening, though. Not with Katica El-Adrel retaining some kind of hold on Jadren.” Nic eyed her keenly. “You haven’t gone into detail about what happened at House El-Adrel—not beyond the bare bones—but Lady El-Adrel… She does have something on Jadren, doesn’t she? Something deeper and more powerful than a Convocation high-house head or parent typically holds on one of their scions.”

Selly met Nic’s penetrating green gaze evenly. “I don’t know what is typical. Jadren explained some—that high-house heads tend to be very controlling, that they rule with precision and total power, expecting everyone in their houses to follow exacting standards that basically result in a house of possibly thousands of people having the same characteristics and values.”

Nic actually looked amused. “Did he say that? He’s not entirely wrong, though he’s coloring with a bit of a broad brush. Not every Convocation High House operates that way, certainly not the lower tier houses.”

“Does House Elal?” Selly asked before she could lose her nerve. At Nic’s coolly raised brows, the impassively regal expression her sister-in-law could assume like a mask at a moment’s notice, she hastened to explain. “Jadren used Lord Elal as an example of that behavior—he wasn’t complimentary—and it just now occurs to me that I haven’t asked about what you’re going through, the estrangement from your father, what kind of… pressure he might be exerting on you.”

Nic’s aloof expression thawed and she sagged back against the window frame, her eyes holding a curious softness. “You really are very much like Gabriel, both of you so empathetic and thinking about how other people might be feeling.”

“Not really,” Selly said, guilt pricking her. “It didn’t occur to me until this conversation to ask you. I’ve been mired in my own problems.”

“You have plenty to work through,” Nic assured her in a dry tone. “No one expects you to just spring into action and—.”

“I expect it,” Selly interrupted. “I feel like I have to keep saying this. I’m not an invalid or a crazy girl who needs to be coddled.”

Nic nearly laughed, but abruptly sobered. “Who’s calling you crazy? That’s unfair and dead wrong.”

Jadren had called her that, but—oddly enough—she hadn’t minded. At least he hadn’t minced words. And he understood what that kind of magically induced uprooting from the real world felt like. “I’m aware that I’m recovering from a bad place,” she answered instead, “but part of that recovery is becoming a functioning member of this house, being a friend to people. Being supportive rather than a burden.” She cast about, feeling as if she needed to convince Nic of something. “Do you remember the story you told me when I was in the thick of madness? A kind of parable for my situation.”

Nic nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “I wasn’t sure how much of that time you remembered.”

“I remember that.” Vividly. Climbing to the balcony in the rain, creeping inside the unlocked glass doors, wanting to see this new woman Gabriel had brought home, feeling dazzled by Nic’s beauty and the palpable wine-red, rose-scented magic that lushly billowed around her. The only other magical person Selly had been around until then was her brother, who had the same sort of magic she did, so meeting Nic had nearly overwhelmed her senses with her very differentness, along with the heated redolence of her magic. Nic had seemed like a glowing, living blossom—and when she’d been kind to Selly, it had warmed and settled something in her.

“You offered me a way to understand myself. By giving me the tale of the princess cursed to be misunderstood, you helped me see that what was wrong with me might not be my fault.”

“Oh,” Nic murmured, reaching out to take Selly’s hand. “It was never your fault, honey.”

“I know that. Now,” she added wryly, holding onto Nic’s hand. “Then…it was all so confusing. I didn’t know what was real, what wasn’t, even who I was.” She shuddered a little internally, not liking to recall the turbulence of those mists that had held her at their mercy. No wonder Jadren had such a violently visceral reaction when reminded of his own suffering. “My point is that I’ve been mired in my own problems. First through no fault of my own, but since then, out of self-absorption. I haven’t been a person who could be a friend to you, but I’d like to start now.”

Nic smiled, a slow curve of her full lips, generous with warm affection. “You already have been, Seliah. You came to rescue me.”

Selly shook her head. “I didn’t do much.”

“You came when you didn’t have to. When, in fact, you were strenuously dissuaded from it. Then, you stayed behind to play rear guard so we could get away. You saved us.” Nic waved a hand in front of her face and blinked at the tears filling her eyes before she rolled them. “I weep so easily these days. I blame the pregnancy.”

“I don’t know much about pregnancy, but I’ve heard tales that the emotions can be volatile,” Selly replied, casting a dubious eye at Nic’s barely rounded belly.

“Yes, well.” Nic wiped away the tears, regaining her usual dry tone along with her poise. “It’s a handy excuse, anyway. You asked about Papa.” She sighed heavily, allowing a deep unhappiness to show.

“You don’t have to—”

“Ah ah ah.” Nic wagged a finger at her. “You don’t get to back out now.” She relented and smiled. “Really it’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but you asked and you should know. Papa is… Well, Jadren is more correct than he isn’t on that one. As Lord Elal, Papa rules his house, his family, and his many minions, with fierce and absolute power. That includes my mother as his familiar, and me as his daughter. Or it did include me, until I ran away, a rebellion for which he hasn’t forgiven me, and for which he is punishing me by denying me my dowry and even my personal possessions.”

“What?” Selly couldn’t imagine it.

---