Page 65 of Twisted Magic

Narrowing her gaze, she lifted her chin. “Keep it up and you’ll find yourself going through one for real.” Dipping that chin at the assembly, she lowered her voice. “They’re waiting for you to say something wise and inspirational.”

“They’ll be waiting a long time, in that case,” he commented wryly, but he considered what to say. This was a turning point for House El-Adrel. It deserved commemoration. He opened his mouth, hoping the right words would come to him—and stopped as a Ratsiel courier flew in through an open window at such a high speed that it could only be an emergency communication. The flash of silver instantly told him it came from House Phel.

“Gabriel,” Seliah gasped. The courier went straight to her, dropping a small envelope in her hands.

Jadren’s gut tightened. This would not be good. “What does it say?” he asked gently.

She lifted swimming amber eyes to his. “House Phel is under siege.”

~20~

“But where did they come from?” someone in the panicked throng crowding the study hall demanded querulously.

Gabriel ignored the question, which wasn’t really directed at him anyway, making his way through the mad scramble of House Phel denizens. They’d accumulated more minions than he could name anymore, and they all—from the youngest student apprentices to the most senior wizards—seemed to be dashing around in fruitless alarm.

“First Sammael and Elal attack, and now this!” someone else cried stridently.

Han was doing his best to direct the evacuation from the most open and vulnerable parts of the house through to the wizards’ workshop, the only room in the manse without windows to the outside, except the arcanium. Still, Han wasn’t a military commander and these weren’t soldiers. No one was listening.

“You’d better take control,” Nic advised, rushing up to him, breathless, dark curls plastered to her temples with sweat, smears of blood on her gown. None of the blood looked to be hers, just broad stripes on her skirt where she’d wiped her hands. “They’re afraid, but they’ll listen to you.”

“Not when I tell them we’re outnumbered and outpowered,” he grumbled, wincing when she shot him a severe look. “How is Asa holding up?”

“Don’t give up the battle before you’ve even fought,” she chided, proffering one of her lists. “The infirmary is full, but Asa is his usual inimitable self. Narlis is with him, plus a few other familiars assisting and volunteering their magic.”

He glanced at the list she’d handed him, noting the information she’d gathered from various reports, spirits sinking as he realized it was even worse than he’d dreaded.

“Gabriel, my only love,” Nic said sternly, slipping her hand into his. “One thing at a time. Get the vulnerable to safety.”

He nodded, gathering himself. If Han was no general, neither was he. To think Gabriel had once believed he’d live a simple life as a farmer, battling nothing more terrifying than worms in his orchards and locusts in his crops. Drawing on Nic’s magic, he used that to amplify his voice. “Everyone, quiet!” he thundered.

And everyone cringed, clapping hands to their ears, some yelping in physical pain.

“Maybe a little much,” Nic muttered, emerald eyes alight with amusement despite the grim circumstances.

“Sorry,” he muttered back, and ratcheted down the volume, not needed anymore anyway since they’d all fallen silent, faces turned toward him. The trust in their expressions nearly did him in. How could he fail them all so thoroughly?

“Steady,” Nic murmured, flowing warm, wine-rich magic into him.

“Yes, we were attacked, suddenly, brutally, and with numerous casualties,” Gabriel told them, going for utter honesty. No sense denying the obvious. “At this point, the enemy forces appear to have entrenched behind their camouflage to lay siege so there is no longer any immediate danger. But there is no doubt they are still out there and will attack again. Wizards and familiars with combat experience or capability of any kind, remain here. Those of you without that skill set, or if you simply prefer, proceed to the wizards’ workshop, where you’ll be safest.”

“What if we want to surrender?” someone shouted from the back, an edge of panic in their voice.

“Yeah,” another called out. “I didn’t sign up for this. You’re supposed to protect us!”

“Oh, nonsense,” Nic snapped out, her carrying voice and Elal pride needing no amplification. “Every single one of you knew House Phel was in a precarious position, which is why many of you got hired on or were given exclusive apprenticeships with the most powerful water- and moon-wizard in the entire Convocation.”

“The only one…” one of the instigators muttered unhappily.

Nic picked him out and pinned him with a disgusted glare. “That’s right, Wizard. The only wizard who could teach you to use the magic everyone else told you was useless. You took the risk to sign on with House Phel in order to enjoy the benefits of what Lord Phel could teach you. And now you’re whining about us being under siege, something a child could have predicted? Your behavior has been noted for future performance reviews. Meanwhile, you—all of you—have been given the choice of two options: assemble here to assist with defense or take safety in the workshop. Pick your path. Now.”

“Lady Phel?” Quinn Byssan put up her hand.

“Yes, Quinn,” Nic said, losing the harsh burr of disapproval.

“Could I suggest a third option?” Quinn asked. “Some of us have no combat ability or compatibility—my glass magic won’t help much and dark arts know Han hasn’t gotten anywhere teaching me self-defense—but we would be useful taking inventory of food supplies and so forth, and developing a rationing plan, in case we’re looking at a siege of some duration.”

Nic glanced at Gabriel questioningly, unwilling to countermand his orders, no matter how much sense the suggestion made. He was already nodding at Quinn. “Good thinking. You’re in charge. Report directly to Nic. Those of you helping with defense, report to Han.”

---