Page 18 of Twisted Magic

“There is the matter,” Chaim ground out, “of your potentially devastating ability to wreak havoc upon the world. I cannot in good conscience allow you to—”

“Try to stop me,” Jadren invited with lethal intent. “I need the practice.”

Liat quickly looked to the side, and Jadren was sure she’d suppressed a laugh. Chaim managed not to take a step back, but just barely. “At least take one of our elemental-powered carriages instead of that… horse.”

He’d offered it as a concession, but only Chaim could make “horse” sound like an insult. “No way,” Jadren replied, patting Vale’s arched neck. He considered whether to wear Mr. Machete—his trusty big blade of Phel’s moon magic, which could melt the hunters—or not. He buckled the sheath to the saddle. He could draw it there easily and Vale would be helpful in a fight if it came to that. He doubted it would. They wanted him back at El-Adrel and would clear the way for him. “This horse is part of the team.”

“I’ll send a secured Ratsiel courier to House Phel for you,” Liat volunteered, “to apprise them of the situation. Is there any particular information you’d like me to include?”

“Thank you, Liat.” The offer moved him a surprising amount. “Just tell them…” He didn’t know what. There was too much. “Tell them I’m handling it, that I’ll ensure Seliah comes to no harm.”

Liat’s black eyes gleamed with emotion, and she nodded.

“Lord Jadren!” Pinny ran up, earnest face full of concern. “Here’s the last of Seliah’s things. Please tell her…” Pinny’s face crumpled with anxiety.

Jadren put a hand on her shoulder. “She’s going to be fine. They won’t hurt her.” They’d better not.

“I still think,” Chaim began stiffly, “that we should—”

“Do you, Chaim?” Liat asked with deceptive mildness. “Think? Because it doesn’t seem that way.”

Chaim gaped at his sister, momentarily flabbergasted. Liat smiled at Jadren, unperturbed. “Good luck. Take care of our girl.”

“I intend to.” Better than he had been. He mounted Vale, ready to ride.

“Practice your drills!” Liat called after him, and he lifted a hand in acknowledgement, already losing the rest of her words in the pounding of Vale’s hooves.

With relief, Jadren finally, finally chased the attenuated thread of his bond to Seliah. Too bad he wasn’t a powerful wizard like the mythical Sylus, as he certainly possessed enough righteous rage to burn House El-Adrel to the ground. Nor could he pull off a Gabriel Phel and rip the roof off a tower from across the valley to rescue his beloved. What was with all the abducting of familiars lately, anyway? Exploiting that wizard–familiar bond to make everyone toe the line. If only there were a way to sever that bond. He shook the thought away.

He might not possess the ability to lay waste to his enemies—or his enemies’ roofs—but he possessed buckets of wily contrariness. And the journey would give him time to plan. How to storm House El-Adrel and extract Seliah? Hmm…

“Gabriel!” Nic called out, quick-trotting into the wizards’ workroom at the far end of the north wing of House Phel. Several people, previously deep in concentration on various projects, glanced up in startled surprise. Not a common occurrence, to see Lady Phel in disarray, discomposed, and calling for her wizard. She ignored them all, along with their stares, rounded the deep pit of rippling water that was Nathi’s home, and scanned the labyrinthine work space for Gabriel’s tall, silver-haired form. He normally stood out in a crowd, and her bond with him indicated he was in this vicinity—and it had been his plan to work on the new product lines with the minions this afternoon—but she couldn’t spot him.

The urgent missive from Refoel, annoyingly keyed only to Gabriel, burned against her sweating hand, and she groaned in frustration. Where was he? Tempted to yell for him again, louder, she restrained herself. It really didn’t do for her to behave with so little decorum.

“Lord Phel is in the shielded room with the moon-magic apprentices,” Iliana said helpfully, appearing at Nic’s elbow, a concerned line between her brows. She’d woven her bright-red hair into two long braids that dangled forward over her shoulders and should have made her look like a little kid, but instead framed her pretty face, setting off her warm brown eyes. “I could ask one of the wizards to unlock it, but…”

“No,” Nic said on a sigh. That work—teaching the younger wizards to extrude silver from moon magic—was conducted in a shielded room for a reason, as the results so far had proved to be unstable to the point of being explosive. Nic could wish that her wizard would stay outside of the blast zone, but she’d been the one to nag him to teach his skills to their minions. She looked longingly at the walled-off corner the wizards had installed, wondering if she imagined the muffled sounds of thumping from within. Determinedly, she turned her back on it. Gabriel’s tendency to fling himself headlong into dangerous pursuits was of the many things she couldn’t control and was attempting to get better about letting go of. “I’m sure they’ll emerge soon,” she added.

Iliana nodded encouragingly. “I’m certain of it. They’ve been in there an hour and rarely stay longer than that. The poor apprentices practically collapse with exhaustion when they emerge.” She dipped her pointed chin at the missive Nic clutched. “I see the Refoel crest—news on Jadren and Seliah?”

“Marked urgent and keyed to Gabriel,” Nic replied, the itch of apprehension returning full force. Not that a few minutes would make that much difference.

“Oh.” Iliana frowned in concern, her gaze drifted to the warded work area, then determinedly back to Nic’s face. “Let me distract you then. Wedding plans?”

Nic groaned. “Dark arts, no. Actually—”

“Don’t ‘actually’ me, Nic,” Iliana broke in, her impatience with the countless delays making her forget protocol, never Iliana’s strong suit to begin with. “We already lost the entire summer. Unless you want a winter wedding, which can be pretty, we’ll have to wait until next year at this point.”

“That’s exactly what we have to do,” Nic told her firmly. “Gabriel and I discussed and I’ve finally convinced him that this wedding nonsense has to be tabled.” Maybe indefinitely for all she cared. Having a big party wouldn’t change their relationship, but it sure would strain their already precarious financial position.

“It’s not nonsense,” Iliana protested.

“In the grand scheme, it doesn’t make sense right now either,” Nic explained, aware of other ears listening. She didn’t like the minions knowing more than they needed to about House Phel’s difficulties, but they could hardly be kept entirely secret either. The finances were her and Gabriel’s business, but the legal matters facing them were public knowledge. “There’s too much unsettled with our legal problems, plus we want Jadren and Seliah to attend and their status has been…” She waved the missive in her hand in lieu of trying to put words to the blank abyss of information regarding the wayward pair. Seliah’s letters had been chatty, upbeat, and completely lacking in useful information. “Besides,” she rubbed a hand over her swollen belly, “the baby will be born midwinter and I’d like to be able to dance at my own wedding, instead of sitting on the sidelines like a beached whale.” Her Ophiel gowns—thanks to Wizard Dahlia’s expertise—adjusted to her changing figure in as flattering a way as possible, but she still felt enormous, with months to go.

“I suppose that makes sense.” Still, Iliana looked unhappy.

“Tell me how your work with Nathi is going,” Nic said, hitting upon a surefire topic to distract Iliana.

---