Page 24 of Twisted Magic

She stiffened, nose wrinkling into a snarl. “I am Lady El-Adrel,” she informed him, serene face creasing into harsh lines, her magic boiling in the air like molten metal. “You belong to me, both of you, and you will do as I tell you to do. There will be no negotiating.” She spat the word with distaste.

Jadren wagged a finger at her, still holding Selly close under his other arm. “Ah ah ah, Maman. This isn’t information you can extort from me. No amount of torture—even if I were to allow you to imprison either of us again, which I won’t—will extract the knowledge you crave. And isn’t that what you want more than anything in all the world? Don’t you long to know what you created when you made me?”

~9~

His mother clearly wanted to know, every line of her body vibrating with barely restrained, conflicting desires. Jadren apparently did know his mother as well as she knew him—perhaps even better. All those years of being her experimental animal, that perversely intimate sharing of pain and suffering, had given him key insights into his tormenter’s mind. Perhaps it was no brilliant insight to know that Katica El-Adrel would give almost anything—maybe even anything at all—to realize her lifelong ambitions, but it was enough to give him what he needed to manipulate her.

A fucking epiphany, right there. No one would write books of philosophy on the profundity of his discovery, but epiphanies could be personal and this one would change his life. More important, it would change Seliah’s.

“Fine,” his dear maman finally ground out. “What do you want?”

“What are you offering?”

“I can’t imagine what I have to offer that you could want,” she answered haughtily, the game well and truly afoot.

“Can’t you?” He tsked at her again, mostly because it was so fun to see it enrage her. “Imagine harder.” He stroked a hand down Seliah’s back. “I’m thirsty. Are you thirsty? Let’s pour some wine. It’s looking like this will take a while.”

“I’d be happy to ring for that,” Seliah said brightly, taking his cue with her usual alert wit. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any refreshments here. I hope that the relocated apartments won’t give the staff trouble in finding the way.”

He tamped down on the instant anger, sliding his maman a black look. “You didn’t see fit to feed Seliah?”

She glared back defiantly, which was good. Defiance meant Katica was on the defensive. “I’m Lady El-Adrel,” she snapped. “It’s beneath my notice to track when familiars are fed and watered.”

“Then let’s put that at the top of my list of what I want,” he replied in the same tone. “Go arrange for food and drink. Then we’ll negotiate.”

“In exchange for what?” she asked cannily. “I need something, offered in good faith, to agree to continue.”

“In exchange for us not climbing out of this window right now and leaving,” he answered. He looked Seliah over. She looked gorgeous in the pretty, sapphire blue gown embroidered with glittering black lightning bolts, but it was hardly practical. And those House Blahnik heels were great as a come-fuck-me invitation—a summons he burned to accept, feeling as if she’d been torn from him for days—but not for shimmying down the ever-changing landscape of the house.

“I can manage,” she told him, reading his thoughts as usual and bending to unbuckle the straps of the fancy heels, kicking them off. “I like going barefoot, as you know.”

“I know.” Overwhelmed with affection for his half-feral love, he pulled her close, giving her a lingering kiss, delighting in her passionate yielding. All along the frantic ride from Refoel to El-Adrel, he’d fretted over how Seliah would greet him. He hadn’t worried about his awful mother harming her, nor about any of his gut-deep terrors of returning to the house of his birth. No, all that had mattered was whether he’d pissed Seliah off finally and forever. Instead, it seemed that, as always, she forgave him his transgressions. He deepened the kiss, drinking in her quiet sounds of ardent response, considering telling her to put those shoes back on—and take off everything else.

“Oh, dark arts save me!” his maman exclaimed. “Shall I leave you two alone?”

“That would be grand, thanks,” he answered without bothering to look at her. “And send up those refreshments.” He bent to renew the kiss, but Seliah put a hand on his chest, gently stopping him, her amber eyes warm with desire and amusement.

“Later,” she cautioned him. “I haven’t seen Fyrdo yet.”

That was enough to yank his attention back to the matter at hand, a metaphorical dousing with cold water. He threw his mother an equally chilly glare. “Where is my father?”

Katica pasted on a vague smile, fluttering her fingers in the air. “Around here somewhere…” She pretended to ponder, tapping one pointed nail against her lower lip. “Though, now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him flitting about for some time.” Her mien hardened to a sharp edge, all playacting dropped. “The traitor.”

Seliah’s distress tumbled through her magic, clouding the bright moonlight and ruffling the deep waters. He felt the same.

“Let’s start there then,” Jadren said. “I want to see my father, and have a conversation with him,” he added, thinking of Lord Elal’s evil revenge on his familiar for a similar betrayal, keeping her in her alternate form until her identity dissolved, and hoping that his dear maman hadn’t taken a page from that book.

Katica smiled in truth, thinking she possessed the upper hand again. She’d be wrong, but he let her think that for the moment. “I agree to your request, in exchange for information. How did you kill Ozana?”

“I used my healing magic,” he replied, keeping it concise and knowing that tidbit would only incite her curiosity further.

“How? Explain,” she demanded, and he rolled his eyes.

“That’s all you get until I talk with Fyrdo.” Seliah stirred under his arm. “Until we both do,” he clarified.

Oh, his maman hated this, clearly longing to pitch them both off the balcony at their backs. He’d have to be very careful in how he strung her along. Once she figured she’d extracted every bit of data from him, Lady El-Adrel would have her vengeance for his temerity and it would be terrible, indeed. He’d have to make sure Seliah was well out of her reach by then. Perhaps himself, too, if he could manage it.

“Fine,” his mother ground out, dragging the word over broken glass. “Come with me.”

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