Page 70 of Rogue Familiar

She’d wanted to stay with Jadren, worried about how he’d hold up to an examination that could evoke memories of being an experimental subject, but he’d finally snarled at her to quit hovering like a momma cat with a wounded kitten and to find something else to do with herself.

The Jadren-code had been easy enough to decipher: they were digging into the aspects of himself that he feared were the most monstrous and he didn’t want her to witness it.

That was fine. But it didn’t mean she would let him off that easily.

She cocked her head at the sound of the outer door opening, then closing, and waited. Evening had deepened to night, fire elementals glowing with gentle light from cunningly placed lanterns amidst the flowers and flaming warmly from the tops of torches ringing the terrace.

“Nice digs,” Jadren commented, sauntering onto the terrace, wizard-black eyes pits of shadow against his pale skin. He’d hooked his thumbs in his belt and stood hip-shot, conveying his trademark insouciance, but exhaustion tugged at her magic along the bond and he looked haunted, his face gaunt. “Glad to see how the favored children live around here. The room they gave me made that hut we shacked up in look like a palace.”

“Good thing you can share these chambers with me then,” she returned calmly, deciding that the care and feeding of her wizard in this case should not include sympathy. He looked brittle enough to shatter with a kind word.

“Share… with you?” He sounded so scornfully dubious that she might’ve responded in kind, if she hadn’t known what he’d just been through.

“There’s plenty of room,” she said instead, making it nonchalant.

“Only one bed, I noticed.”

“Yes.”

A silence fell between them, not heavy, but as light as petals fluttering from the spring blossoms on the overhanging limbs.

“Liat wants us to stay a while,” Jadren finally said. “It will take a while to figure out my innards, apparently. Seems there’s quite a bit to untangle from what magic I was born with and what was… installed.”

Oh. She wanted to reach for him, to offer him comfort, but he looked so tensely fragile. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Not really.” He mock-shuddered, trying for a jaunty grin that fell short, then twisted into a grimace. “Not yet.”

“You never did finish telling me what you’re so afraid of becoming.”

“A monster. You have no idea.”

“Does Liat—have an idea?”

“Unfortunately, yes. That’s part of why she wants us to stay. It might not be entirely optional at this point. Something something about the irresponsibility of unleashing me on an unsuspecting Convocation.”

Selly took a breath. None of this was a surprise, in truth. “Then it’s good we came here for help,” she replied calmly.

“Is that how it happened?” He snickered, then sobered, gazing off into the night. “If we stay, it will mean working together to sort out my magic. You’d be dragged into it, too, learning how to be a proper wizard–familiar team.”

Team. The word filled her with all kinds of happiness. “Will that include me taking alternate form?”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes. I always wanted to be an animal.”

“You are an animal, darling,” he quipped, mostly out of reflex, she thought. His dark mood didn’t quite allow for real humor.

“I’m willing to stay a while,” she said. “It will be good to sort things out and this is a pleasant place.”

“Except for Chaim,” he said sourly.

“Don’t worry about Chaim.” She managed not to roll her eyes. “You are my bonded wizard.”

“Yes. I suppose we might as well reconcile ourselves to that fact.” Jadren hesitated. “I asked Liat if she knew of any way to sever the wizard–familiar bond. To set you free of me.”

Selly’s heart chilled and slowed. “What did she say?”

He shrugged. “Exactly what you’d expect. That we’re stuck with each other. Sorry it’s not better news.”

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