Page 68 of Twisted Magic

“Key the courier to Seliah only,” Gabriel said. Not that he thought Jadren couldn’t be trusted, but just in case. Nic’s knowing look showed she knew what he was thinking but wasn’t going to call him on it.

“I’ll send messages throughout the Convocation,” she decided. “And I’ll pay off all of our debts.”

He felt himself pale. Nic knew the finances better than he did, but even he knew the balance of their debt versus their current accounts. “That will drain us utterly.”

“Our money might as well go the route of our food and magic supplies,” she agreed grimly. “It’s too late for us to behave like a ruthless high house. We might as well stick with the noble, honorable, and self-sacrificing route.” The smile that curved her lips had nothing to do with happiness. “I’ll include a note explaining, that we face overwhelming attack by forces from Elal, El-Adrel, Sammael, and likely others, and that we don’t wish them to suffer due to our unpaid bills. That should make them feel guilty.”

“Will it make them feel guilty enough to come to our aid?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“Highly unlikely, but I’ll enjoy poking them about it.”

“Should you warn Alise?” He expected Nic’s immediate indignation and held up a hand to ward her off. “Pay her remaining tuition, yes, but she’ll want to come help, if she knows.”

“Seliah will want to also.”

“Yes, but Jadren will stop her. Who’s to stop Alise?”

“We’ll send the missive to Provost Uriel,” Nic decided. “She’ll make sure to keep Alise under lock and key.” She grew thoughtful, tapping her lip.

“What are you plotting?” It encouraged him to see Nic moving into strategy mode, even if she was working off the assumption that theirs was a hopeless cause.

“House Uriel has always been an enigma,” she answered musingly. “They rarely take overt sides in any Convocation squabbling, but unlike Refoel, it’s not based on any kind of stated neutrality. They simply don’t participate, which leads to speculation that they do take action, it’s just surreptitious.”

“Covertly pushing events in the direction they prefer?”

“Maybe?” She raised her elegant, black brows, a glimmer of hopefulness in her haunted gaze. “It would be serendipitous for us if they wanted events to go our way.”

“Is that likely?”

She shrugged, fatalistic. “No, but it’s not unlikely either. Uriel is no friend or ally of our enemies. They loathe House Hanneil, and were one of the primary forces in creating the sanctions after the wars, the ones that bound Hanneil into agreeing never to use psychic magic in warfare again. If Alise has managed to find out anything in the archives about Hanneil having a role in taking Phel down, that would help our cause immensely.”

“Has she indicated any progress?”

Nic shook her head, puffing out an annoyed breath. “Just the opposite. She’s using coded language, so I can’t be sure, but reading between the lines indicates she hasn’t found any House Phel records at all, which is telling right there.”

“But doesn’t help us.”

“No.” Leaning both hands against him, she rose on tiptoes to give him a kiss, full of love and resignation. “Nothing can help us now, my only love. All we’re doing is attempting to control what they write on our tombstones.”

The image of a grave marker with Nic’s name on it gripped him in an agony of fear unlike anything that had gone before, bringing home the urgency and tragedy of what they faced. He was no longer happy she was inside the house, trapped within the wards. “We have to get you out.”

“That’s impossible,” she snapped, dropping back to her heels. “Besides, I’m not abandoning you in your hour of greatest need. I’m your partner as you’ve so determinedly insisted upon. We’re a team and I’m not leaving you without a familiar.”

“But to save the baby…” he said without thinking.

“Gabriel Phel.” She drew out his name with cold ire. “You have never treated me like nothing more than a vessel for this baby. Don’t you dare start now.”

He raked a hand through his hair, gutted that he’d hurt her, wondering if he could find some way to convince her to go, if he hurt her more. With a sigh, he realized that not only couldn’t he do it, she would never fall for it. “I didn’t mean it that way,” he told her softly. “I was trying to manipulate you with it. I apologize.”

“As well you should.” Her green eyes glinted with fire, and he braced himself for her wrathful takedown of his character. Instead, she sagged. “If I could pull some trick to save you from this, I would try it, too.” Wrapping her arms around his waist, she leaned her cheek against his chest.

He held her in turn, rubbing her lower back where it often ached, cupping her head in his other hand. She felt so small, so fragile a container for such ferocious intelligence and spirit.

“Dying together in a last stand against our enemies isn’t nearly so romantic in real life as it is in books,” she commented.

Amazingly enough, he laughed, the feeling raw against his ribs, so constricted with grief. “Well, we’re in early stages, yet,” he replied. “Maybe it will feel more romantic later.”

“When we’re half-starved and out of magic,” she agreed. “Anything will sound good then.” They were silent a long moment, just holding each other. With a sigh, she withdrew from his embrace, leaving a cool emptiness behind. “Besides, if we were to get anyone out, we have the non-combatants to consider, the full innocents in this. Like Maman. And Laryn.”

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