Page 17 of Twisted Magic

Then her gaze snagged on a class she’d never seen in the catalog before, an independent study on Convocation History. With Provost Uriel herself as her adviser on the project. She lifted her gaze to the provost, a question on her lips.

“Are the terms acceptable?” Provost Uriel asked in such a way that the question died before Alise could speak it. “I’m well aware this will be challenging on a number of levels. We needed to ensure that no one will be able to accuse you of being easily forgiven or rewarded for your behavior.”

Alise could see that. Her re-enrollment itself would be her punishment. “The terms are acceptable, Provost Uriel,” she replied.

“Good.” She extracted something from a drawer, shimmering with quiet Uriel magic. “You’ll need this pass. It will give you access to the archives for your independent study project.”

“Thank you for giving me this opportunity to redeem myself. I won’t let you or Convocation Academy down.”

“Or House Phel, I imagine,” the wizard replied drily.

Alise acknowledged that with a dip of her chin. “If I may make one request?”

The provost raised a single, silver brow. “You’re hardly in any position to make requests, Wizard Elal.”

“I’m aware.” She allowed a respectful pause. “I have been disowned by House Elal and, as you note, House Phel is paying my way. May I be enrolled as Alise Phel?”

Provost Uriel didn’t smile, but something in her air hinted of approval. “I’ll have my aide submit the paperwork accordingly. Now be off with you. I believe you’re late for class.”

“Yes, Provost.” Taking her ridiculously long list of restrictions and classwork, Alise obediently took her leave, feeling oddly optimistic for the first time since she left House Phel and everyone who loved her behind. She could do this.

~7~

Vale, at least, was as wholly committed as Jadren to leaving House Refoel in the dust. Not that dust dared encroach upon the verdant, idyllic valley. The gelding had grown sleek and ever so slightly overweight during their summer tenure in the land of healers. The horse pranced in high spirits as Jadren loaded up his saddle bags. Jadren was sure the noble-hearted horse had grown a little bored with lack of adventure.

Well, they would soon be on the move, going to the one place Jadren had sworn he’d never return to voluntarily. His dear maman always managed to find a way to yank his chain and reel him back, so he and Vale would be traveling to House El-Adrel with all possible haste. As soon as he extracted himself from the clinging tentacles of Refoel. Several of which tentacles were currently attempting to bar his way.

“Lord Jadren,” Chaim said in a tone of strained patience, his healer’s calm visibly cracking around the edges. “You can’t possibly know where Seliah has gone.”

“Incorrect. I know exactly where she is.”

“She cannot have been abducted from Refoel lands,” Chaim insisted. “We have safeguards and alarms. I would know if a hostile force had crossed our border, much less invaded the very building I dwell in.”

“I suggest you rethink your assumptions,” Jadren advised him, “as that’s exactly what happened.” …we’ll send transportation for you. It would arrive faster than you might think. His father had tried to warn him, and Jadren had only realized that in retrospect. The “transportation” had already been nearby when he and Seliah read that letter. Lurking, waiting to spring the trap. And he’d failed her.

“If you would just give us time to—”

“No.”

“One cryptic note isn’t enough evidence to—”

“Yes, it is.”

Chaim, unaccustomed to being rudely interrupted ever, much less several times in a row, huffed in exasperation. “There are official channels for handling this sort of thing! You know this. Let me employ our in-house Elal wizard to trace Seliah’s—”

“No Elals,” Jadren snapped, rounding on Chaim. “Lord Refoel, with all due respect, you seem to fail to realize that Seliah has been abducted in an illegal, malicious act—from within the bounds of your own house, whether you want to admit that or not—and you’re maundering on about official channels.”

“I don’t agree that she’s been abducted,” Chaim argued. “We are all aware that Seliah was unhappy with you.”

Jadren stilled, wondering if he imagined the hiss of Liat drawing breath through her teeth. “I fully admit to being an ass,” he said in his friendliest tone. “I’m working on doing better. But Seliah? She is a class act, all the way. She would never be so cowardly as to run away instead of standing her ground. If you don’t know that, you understand nothing about her at all.”

“I apologize for any implied insult,” Chaim said stiffly. “My point is that there is simply no way that hostile forces could—”

“Could and did, Chaim,” Jadren ground out, his meager supply of patience exhausted, “whether you admit it or not. Somehow they did. This is war, whether you healers recognize it or not.”

“The internecine affairs of House El-Adrel hardly counts as outright war,” Chaim replied with a sniff.

That gave Jadren pause—just enough of one to make him think twice about punching Chaim in that sniffy nose. “Let’s say you’re right,” Jadren conceded calmly, “and this is only a House El-Adrel affair. In that case, I’m leaving immediately for the house of my birth to resolve it.”

---