Page 62 of Twisted Magic

“With your consent of course,” he added. “Please don’t eat my hand before the duel. I’d like to show our people I’m capable of appearing not covered in blood, mine or anyone else’s.”

With a rumble that could pass for a laugh, she let him go.

Most of the population of the house had already assembled in the great hall, making it an even larger crowd than the day before, everyone wanting to witness the historic event. Today would see a new head of House El-Adrel, one way or another.

The excited murmurs rose in volume as people spotted Seliah. He’d fretted a little whether anyone would challenge who she was and whether he’d been the one to put her in alternate form, until Seliah very reasonably pointed out the improbability of any other explanation. Where else would he get a huge, black wildcat that wasn’t engaged in trying to eviscerate him?

She was right. Besides which, familiars in animal form looked decidedly magical to anyone with any level of sensitivity to wizardry, and she would be the only familiar in alternate form in the entire house that people hadn’t seen before. Still, he worried, looking for the pitfall here. Surely this couldn’t be that easy. Nothing ever was.

When he’d suggested as much to Seliah, however, she’d responded that he was scarred and traumatized, lacking in self-confidence, that he expected disaster because he was afraid to dare to be hopeful. He’d retorted that she’d spent far too much time in Maya’s company and that maybe she should’ve become a Refoel familiar, if she liked that kind of soul-searching talk so much. Instead of growing annoyed, Seliah had kissed him and told him everything would be fine, which somehow grated even more than if she’d taken him up on the fight he was trying to pick. She’d seen right through that, too, and told him to save it for Bogdan.

Bogdan. How he hated that guy. True, he hated all of his siblings, but fucking Bogdan might be his least favorite. After Ozana, of course. With her demise, he supposed Bogdan had gotten a promotion. Oh joy.

The insufferably smug son of a bitch—an epithet that worked quite nicely as literally true in the worst sense, in this case—waited for him in the center of the great hall. The exact center, where the pattern of lightning bolts converged into what appeared to be a fulminating sun radiant around a crescent moon. Jadren caught Bogdan giving the pattern a glare of scowling promise, as if he already planned how to replace the design should he emerge the victor. Jadren dug his fingers into Seliah’s plush fur. Too late to run, so he had no choice but to win.

On Bogdan’s shoulder, Helen sat in falcon form. She appeared composed and alert, as raptors did, and rather oblivious to the import of the coming duel. Of course, it had surprised Jadren that Seliah remembered so much of her experience in alternate form, something he put down to a bigger, more complex brain in that great, feline head of hers. She bumped his thigh with it, as if objecting to the thought, then ran her whiskered cheek from hip to knee. Marking him with her scent, the possessive creature. Oddly, it gave him a boost of confidence.

“Bogdan,” he said by way of greeting, squaring off with his elder brother. The sun shone at high noon, streaming in hot through the glass far above.

“Prepared to die?” Bogdan inquired, as if asking after his health or how well he’d slept.

Jadren managed to cover the flash of dread, producing an insouciant smile. This was a duel to the death? That hadn’t been in the original terms. Or had it? I really don’t like the sound of sudden death, Seliah had said. Fool that he was, he’d assured her it was metaphorical. Apparently not.

“I’m not so easy to kill,” he answered easily, projecting his utter lack of concern.

“A family talent,” Bogdan agreed with an arrogant tilt of his head, reminding Jadren that he wasn’t alone in the ability to self-heal. Jadren was, however, the most extreme example, which was why his late-mother had singled him out for the dubious honor of being the subject of her most diligent experiments. Which meant he’d learned a great deal about recovering from more extensive physical damage that he doubted Bogdan had ever suffered.

“Nothing like family,” Jadren replied amiably. “Are there any rules at all?”

“Kill or be killed.” Bogdan delivered the ultimatum with flat decisiveness.

Jadren became aware of the hush of the surrounding crowd, hanging on every word. “No collateral casualties,” he specified. “Our people should not be harmed over our quarrel.”

“Oh dear, how soft you’ve grown, baby brother, contaminated with the weak morals of those House Phel phools,” Bogdan said on a sneer. “No wait. You always were like this: spoiled rotten, no spine, just a sniveling little mama’s boy, forever hanging off her skirts.”

Seliah rumbled out a growl at this gross mischaracterization of Jadren’s warped childhood, and he petted her soothingly, which served to soothe himself. “Familiars should be out of the line of fire,” he added. “I insist on those two rules.”

“We can’t access their magic while they’re in animal form,” Bogdan explained, as if Jadren might be just that ignorant.

“Exactly,” he agreed cheerfully, “so there’s no need for them to be anywhere near us.”

Bogdan narrowed his eyes, gaze lingering on Seliah. Jadren didn’t think he imagined the glint of admiration and the hint of jealousy in those eyes. Yes, my familiar is bigger and scarier than yours. He scratched Seliah behind the ears and she cast him an adoring look. Plus, she loves me and is by my side out of free will and loyalty. A thought following on that one niggled at him a bit—that the bonding enchantment mitigated some of that free will. Seliah possessed such ferocious self-determination that he more and more often forgot that she’d had no choice in bonding him, no matter how much she might love him. Still, nothing to be done about it.

“Fine,” Bogdan said, waving a hand negligently, sending Helen winging off to perch at the top of the El-Adrel banner. “My rule one is no devices.” He circled a finger at the widget hanging from the chain around Jadren’s neck, then expanded the gesture to indicate the various bits of useful, mutable metal he’d embedded in the fancy outfit, and Mr. Machete on Jadren’s belt. “Or silly weapons. Second, familiars may not intervene physically. Keep your kitty away from me at risk of forfeit.”

“Fine,” Jadren replied in the same tone, watching with half an eye as they both divested themselves of supplies into bowls hastily brought up by pages to hold the pile of implements. He wasn’t worried about Bogdan withholding anything. If he used a device after this, he’d forfeit. He wouldn’t cheat. Not that way, anyhow. He wished he could shake the unsettling sensation that he was missing something.

Jadren crouched, putting himself at eye level with Seliah’s fierce amber gaze, using looping the widget on its chain around her neck as an excuse. “I know you won’t leave the room, but—” He breathed a laugh at her low growl of denial. “Just get as far away to the side as you can. If the worst happens—” He continued to talk over her rising rumble and didn’t flinch at her bared teeth. “I want you to run,” he told her. “You should revert to human form if I die—stop with the denial and listen—but if you don’t, go to Refoel. Chaim will help you and he…” Jadren found himself suddenly and ridiculously choked up. Oh, sure—every wizard got weepy before a duel to the death. “He would be a good wizard to you. You know he cares for you and you… you love Refoel. I know you do.”

Seliah lifted a big paw, claws carefully sheathed, and set it on his shoulder, then licked his face with her raspy tongue that abraded his skin stingingly.

“Are we done with this rather nauseating demonstration of sentimentality?” Bogdan inquired. “I swear, Jaddy boy, if it weren’t for the family resemblance, I’d wonder if you carried any El-Adrel blood at all.”

Unabashed—actually pleased that he wasn’t recognizably an El-Adrel anymore, as that could only be an improvement—Jadren kissed Seliah on her soft black nose and stood, watching her stroll off and enjoying how the crowd hastily parted for her. She picked a spot on the raised dais, leaping up to sit on her haunches on the thronelike chair that was hers, looking for all the world like a queen surveying her territory. At least she was close to the doors leading outside. He didn’t doubt she could climb and clear the high walls if it came to that, regardless of the traps atop them. Probably the house would help her.

“Let’s finish this,” he said to Bogdan. “I haven’t had lunch yet.”

“You always did talk a big game,” Bogdan replied, “but you never learned to walk the walk.”

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