Page 34 of Twisted Magic

Seliah stopped Jadren as he guided his father toward the bathing chamber and the grooming imps. The earth elementals would make quick work of the gore. “I think you shouldn’t clean up,” she said, seriously enough that he thought she’d deadpanned the joke. But she meant it.

“You want me to go to the great hall and confront my late-mother’s minions covered in her discorporated body?”

“Yes. With the holes riddling your leathers from her attack. A lot of this blood is yours, you should know, from those darts. When they see you like this, it will remove all doubt.”

“Of my sanity?”

“That you are weak or incompetent in some way,” she replied seriously, not taking the bait. “Your very appearance proves you cannot be killed. What better way to forestall challenges and more duels? You defeated Lady El-Adrel in a pitched battle. No one will want to take you on, if they’re smart.”

“You’re assuming a great deal about the relative intelligence of the House El-Adrel minions,” he retorted drily. Still, Seliah had a point. “I wouldn’t have succeeded if Fyrdo had gone to her. She would have outpowered me.”

“Don’t you see?” she asked gently. “That’s part of you, also, that your father loves you and wouldn’t act against you, despite enormous pressure. And the house. She chose you and acted to protect you.”

He still wasn’t sure about that part. “I think the house chose you,” he said, pointing a finger at the large and detailed painting of House Phel on the wall, its frame an ornate silver design of waves and the moon moving through its various phases.

“And I chose you and you chose me.” She shrugged and smiled, as if it all made sense. “Now, what do you think—should I go as is, refugee of a great wizard’s duel? Or I can clean up and be full, glamorous lady.”

“I vote clean up. I love you, but seeing you covered in the remains of my late-mother is a bit off-putting.”

~12~

Months before, Selly wouldn’t have credited it, but she had to admit that Nic’s training on how to present herself as Convocation royalty came in handy at last. Bathed in the hottest water she could coax the fire elementals into heating for her—though the earth elementals removed the blood and gore, she still hadn’t felt truly clean—and with her hair and makeup done, she felt like a new person.

Well, if not a new person, then a considerably more polished one. The servants Jadren summoned, all of them wide-eyed and giving the blood-soaked wizard a skittishly large berth, took away a still-weeping Fyrdo to be sedated by the in-house Refoel healer, and also brought Selly a selection of Ophiel gowns. She selected the richest-looking one, made of shimmering gold cloth, worked in lightning bolts in the same thread, so they showed only subtly.

“Look what showed up for you,” Jadren said, gesturing at an open jewelry box on the table.

She peered at the glowing jewels within, a necklace and dangling earrings. “They’re beautiful.”

“They’re moonstones. They simply appeared, so I assume they’re a gift of the house,” he added drily.

Giving him a questioning look, she hesitated, hovering a finger over the stones. “Do you think they’re safe?”

He snorted. “In this house? Nothing is safe. But you’re the one all fired up to be Lady El-Adrel with your buddy the enchanted artifact the size of a house.” His wizard-black gaze roved over the apartment, which continued to expand and decorate itself. A few potted plants had appeared, including what looked to be a citrus tree in a nook with bay windows.

She studied Jadren during his moment of distraction, trying to determine how he was truly coping. He felt brittle, in much the same way Alise had felt brittle, his magic worn thin from that epic strike that destroyed his mother once and for all, and Selly questioned whether she’d been right to push him to take the seat as head of the house at this moment. If anyone truly challenged him, he might be too weak to fight them off. She had plenty of magic still, and it was rebuilding swiftly. They’d agreed to wait until right before they left the relative safety of their rooms for him to replenish from her. Jadren had some idea that the more he replenished on his own, the less he’d weaken her, which she doubted. But she’d let it go.

On the other hand, he looked truly terrifying, caked in drying blood, his pale and unblemished skin showing through the rents in his leathers. His auburn hair, not at all bright, stood up in spikes, bloodred and menacing. The brass widget on the chain around his neck showed incongruously clean, somehow more threatening just for that. His wizard-black eyes glittered with feverish light, deep pits in the blood-smeared, white skull that was his pinched and hollow face.

She stood by her evaluation that seeing would be believing, for any House El-Adrel denizens who hadn’t been summoned to the duel and relocated forthwith. She also worried that she might be pushing her wizard too far. What Jadren had just endured, the extreme action he’d been forced to take—for she knew full well he’d only launched that final, devastating attack because his late-mother had pushed him over the edge of sanity, threatening him with those hated chains—well, that experience would have the sanest person gibbering in a corner.

“Stop looking at me like you’re worried I’m going to fall apart,” Jadren snapped, turning that too-sharp gaze on her.

“I’m not,” she assured him, just a small lie. Picking up the earrings, she fastened them onto her ears. Enchanted artifacts, they attached themselves upon contact, little screws twirling to gently pinch her earlobes. A bit unsettling, but also convenient.

“I’d offer to help with the necklace,” Jadren commented, in far too neutral a tone, “but…” He held up his blood-smeared hands, the dried stuff flaking off the knuckles and other creases. “You look so lovely,” he added, almost wistfully. “We’ll appear as the beauty and the murderous monster she’s taken to her breast.”

“Whatever intimidates them enough to make them think twice about challenging you,” she replied with enough conviction for them both. “Once you’re Lord El-Adrel, you can appeal to their good sense and better natures.”

“We’ll need that support for the Convocation to confirm the appointment.”

She should have realized there’d be legal hurdles to leap. A thought struck her. “Will the Convocation be able to confirm you in the role if you’re not a citizen?”

“They wouldn’t be, no, but…” He grimaced and waved a hand at one of the bags the servants had brought up. They’d retrieved Vale from where Jadren had hidden the horse in the woods nearby, bringing up the saddle packs at Jadren’s direction. “Look in that outer pocket there. You’ll find something for you, too.”

Curious—and particularly intrigued by his expectant attitude—Selly rummaged in the pocket he indicated and withdrew the two cards, peering at the numbers in the rows and columns stamped on the expensive paper. Belatedly, she caught on. “MP scorecards,” she breathed. “How did you get these?”

“Liat.” He raised his brows expressively. “They had a Hanneil wizard clandestinely evaluate us while we worked. Yours is quite what you’d expect.”

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