Page 50 of Reluctant Wizard

Alise found herself smiling. “I like the sound of that.”

Morghana snorted, but a hint of a mirroring smile softened her stern face. “Of course you do. All Elals are slippery. You shall learn to be more so than most.”

They drilled for several hours until Alise satisfied the dark arts professor that she could successfully elude any number of attempts at psychic control—including several truly terrifying attacks from the Seraphiel wizard herself.

Soaked in sweat, Alise found herself on hands and knees, digging all fingers and toes into the grounding soil.

“Barely escaped me on that one,” Professor Seraphiel informed her, “but the good news for you is that was an extremely difficult attack to handle. There are full Seraphiel wizards who couldn’t have done so well. You have a real talent. Are you sure you don’t want to study the dark arts?”

“At this point,” Alise panted, then found it within herself to climb to her feet again, particularly bolstered by the rare words of praise from the wizard, “I’m wondering why everyone doesn’t study the dark arts.”

Morghana Seraphiel laughed softly. “Now you know why everyone fears and avoids us.”

Giving the professor a rueful smile, Alise nodded, accepting the towel Morghana handed her, using real water to wash the dirt from her hands and feet as instructed, returning both to the soil floor before neatly folding the towel. Considering whether this was wise and also that it could be her only opportunity, she said, “May I ask a question, Professor Seraphiel?”

“You might as well take advantage of my undivided attention to make up for the years of education in the dark arts you missed.” She raised her steely brows into forks at Alise’s hesitation. “Well?” She prompted. “Ask. If I am able, I will answer.”

“Have you ever heard of someone being able to sever the wizard–familiar bond?” Alise asked, in more of a rush than she’d intended, or that was probably wise.

The forks inverted into a frown, the Seraphiel wizard gazing at her with baleful interest. “That would be a revolutionary feat of wizardry,” she said slowly, displaying the caution Alise had failed to. “Why do you ask?”

Alise shrugged, trying to be nonchalant and no doubt failing miserably. “Just rumors. You know how students gossip.”

“Indeed, I do.” She studied Alise a long moment. “Tell me something, Alise Elal. Why is House Hanneil so interested in you?”

Alise widened her eyes in false innocence. “I have no idea.”

“You really must become a better dissembler,” the professor noted in disgust. “Lying is an art like any other.”

“A dark art?” Alise retorted impudently, more confident now that she saw through Morghana’s brusque manner.

“Quite the opposite. The dark arts are about uncomfortable truths. There’s no room for denial or self-deception when dealing with demons. Are you going to answer my question?”

“Is it important that you have that answer?”

“Cagily handled. You will do well as Lady Elal.”

“As I said previously, I have no interest in heading House Elal.”

“Would you leave that role to your idiot of a brother? I must say your honest look of surprise serves you better than your attempts to feign ignorance. Of course I know of Fernando Elal. There are many of us who make it our business to anticipate who might next head influential Convocation houses and affect our lives and businesses. A fool can do far more damage than the most malicious intellect. You can bargain with evil. Speaking of which, my regards to Lord Phel in appreciation for him removing that nitwit Sammael heir from existence.”

Alise could only process that with considerable astonishment, unsure where to begin.

“Never mind,” Morghana Seraphiel waved a hand. “I’ve flummoxed your beliefs and expectations enough for one day. To answer your question, I could say yes, it’s important for me to know why Hanneil is so interested in you, but it would be a lie to no purpose. I have my own suspicions and it will be entertaining to see if I prove to be correct. Still, tell your people at House Phel that House Seraphiel stands ready to assist. Now away with you. I’m excessively wearied.”

With that dismissal, Alise didn’t feel she could ask what Morghana meant by that tantalizing message.

~23~

“I thought,” said Provost Uriel, before saying anything else, “that I expressly and clearly told you to stay away from Alise Phel.”

So this is how it would go, Cillian thought with resignation. It had been futile to hope that the provost somehow wouldn’t find out, wouldn’t read in him all that had transpired between Alise and him, how their relationship had changed. As he hoped it had changed, anyway. He had the definite sense of both holding something precious gently enough not to break it, firmly enough not to lose it through carelessness, and being braced for it to fly away from him no matter what he did.

“Her magic is distinctly intertwined with yours,” the provost added, “so don’t bother to deny it. You put the Szarina incident behind you and I thought learned your lesson from that unpleasantness. Why did you have to complicate an already wickedly fraught situation?”

“The situation is more fraught than you know, Provost Uriel,” he said instead of answering. He and Alise were both adults, both consenting. The Szarina incident was the worst thing he’d ever done and everyone knew it. He refused to let that taint the best thing that had ever happened to him and he wouldn’t be pushed into defending or explaining. “We have a Hanneil spy in our midst and, I believe, an imminent civil war.”

Provost Uriel stared at him a long moment, closed her eyes briefly as if in pain, then pointed at him to sit. Striding to her door, she called to Priyan to clear her schedule for the next hour. Instead of returning to sit behind her desk, she angled the chair beside Cillian to face him companionably and invoked a silencing shield with a twirl of a finger. “Tell me everything.”

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