Page 69 of Twisted Magic

Stunned by that comment, he thought she must have misspoken. “Your mother, yes, has no choice in being here, but Laryn is hardly an innocent.”

Nic waved a hand in the air, equivocating. “That’s the wrong word. Laryn has no choice about being her, indeed never wanted to come here and be part of our house. She’s a prisoner, condemned to die along with us.”

“And you call me the idealistic one,” he commented wryly. “I don’t mind Laryn going down with us.”

“Along with her and Asa’s unborn child?” Nic inquired silkily with raised brows.

He set his teeth. “I don’t like that I see your point.”

“I suppose the point is that this is an invidious situation. Mainly I wish I’d sent Maman somewhere safe.” She sighed again. “I’d better write these letters and send the couriers. We need to get them out before they start an aerial bombardment and you have to close the wards overhead.” She turned to the disarrayed piles of correspondence, frowning as if someone who wasn’t her had messed up the order, and began ordering them again.

“Are they likely to do that?”

“Hmm?” She glanced up from her work, mind already racing ahead to completing the task. “It’s what I would do,” she said, smiling humorlessly, “which means it’s what my father will do.”

~21~

It felt wrong to be enjoying herself, but Alise found herself doing it despite her best efforts to be serious and to feel bad about leaving Convocation Academy yet again, as she’d promised not to do. Even with Provost Uriel’s tacit approval—if that was the case—she was breaking her word. And here she’d thought she couldn’t possibly encounter again some greater cause to tempt her away from her resolve.

This seemed to be a theme in her life.

So, she shouldn’t be feeling this sense of freedom and excitement, the sheer pleasure of being out in the world. It hadn’t helped that Cillian handed her a basket of fresh-baked, still warm cinnamon rolls when she met him at the bottom of the steps at the appointed time. The elemental carriage he’d borrowed from another faculty friend wasn’t the newest model and showed signs of wear, but it was comfortably appointed. Naturally, it was also loaded with books.

“What is a road trip but an excuse to read nonstop and have snacks?” he said to her by way of greeting. He had the top down on the carriage, despite the edge of chill in the air. “If you’re too cold, we can put the top up,” he added, “but I also brought blankets for until it warms up. The House Ananiel forecast says it should be sunny and clear.”

“I like the top down. Reading books and having snacks is an excellent excuse to snuggle under a blanket,” she said, meaning to be funny, but realizing that the sally sounded kind of flirtatious, which she hadn’t intended at all.

Fortunately, Cillian seemed to be as oblivious to flirtation as the air elemental powering the carriage. “I already programmed the elemental,” he said, almost apologetically. “But if you want to check my work, I won’t be offended.”

“Why would I check your work?” she asked, slinging her overnight bag into the enclosed boot at the back of the carriage and climbing in beside him.

“Because you’re the Elal-magic expert,” he replied. “I’m basically a glorified walking card catalog.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.” And, because of that, she pointedly did not check the air elemental bonded to the carriage—and tamed to be easily programmable by even the lowest level wizard—as she would have normally done. Not because she was compulsive about that kind of thing; it just made sense to be thorough. Still, the “Elal-magic expert” comment stung a bit, so she restrained herself.

“We should be at House Harahel by nightfall,” he told her as she settled in and the carriage glided smoothly into motion.

“Too bad Harahel is in the opposite direction from Meresin,” she said wistfully. “It would be nice to stop in and say hi to the family.” More than nice. She fretted that no one there would want to worry her if things weren’t going well.

Cillian gave her a sympathetic smile. “It must be nice to be so close to your sister. Unusual for high-house families,” he added, “at least the politically powerful ones.”

“We weren’t always,” Alise told him, a bit surprised with herself for blurting out that unsavory truth. The Cillian effect of making her equally garrulous continued. “When Nic fled the Betrothal Trials, she didn’t even tell me. She ran off to the lands beyond the Convocation and intended to never contact any of us ever again.” It still hurt, she realized.

“She was protecting you,” Cillian offered. “Eldest child syndrome. She wouldn’t have wanted to involve you in her problems and potentially affect your reputation and future.”

“Mostly she didn’t trust me,” Alise replied. “For all she knew, I’d turn around and betray her to our father.”

“Would you have?”

She nearly spat at him for asking such a question, then realized he watched her with pure curiosity, and no judgment. “Maybe,” she admitted. “Lord Elal might be the most powerful wizard in the Convocation—or was, no knowing what shape he’s in these days—but he also ran our family like his own personal kingdom. We all worshipped him and feared him in equal measures. None of us wanted to cross him. He could be so generous when we pleased him. And so vindictive when we didn’t.”

Naturally, she thought of Maman then, victim of Piers Elal’s vengeance, her cat’s eyes staring blindly at nothing, her mind perhaps gone forever. Would Nic tell Alise if their maman passed away? Maybe. Maybe not, if Nic thought she was continuing to protect her baby sister.

“Sounds rough,” Cillian said with sympathy, but left it there, which she appreciated. She really didn’t want to dig into that morass of the past. “Here, this might take your mind off being homesick.”

He handed her a book and she took it automatically, not really seeing the cover as that word ricocheted through her. Homesick. Was she? When she left House Elal for the academy, she’d never once felt this longing to be back, not like she dreamed of House Phel and the people there. Home. House Phel was home.

“I think you’ll find what it doesn’t mention very interesting,” Cillian said, pointing to the bookmark he’d inserted.

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