Page 22 of Reluctant Wizard

“It’s fine,” Alise said gently, trying to be encouraging. “You’re fine. How can I help you?”

Brinda brightened again. “Your sister, Nic. She conceived in just the fourth month of her Betrothal Trials. How did she do it?”

Alise found herself blinking as she attempted to assimilate the question. Surely Brinda knew the mechanics involved. The academy strongly discouraged romances and sex among students. Iliana and Han’s love affair perfectly illustrated why such student liaisons disrupted everyone and everything. Even though wizards had considerably more latitude in choosing their fates, very few academy graduates ended up in love matches. The Convocation perpetuated itself by breeding magic to magic and partnering the most powerful with each other. Sentimentality didn’t enter into the picture. But none of them were ignorant of the realities of life.

“Ah,” Alise stammered, stalling. “I’m not sure what you mean. The usual way?”

Brinda giggled, high-pitched, full of nerves again. “I know that! I mean, would you ask her for me? I don’t want to spend a year or more waiting to click with the right wizard. The Betrothal Trials chamber at House Chur is underground and ugh.” She wrinkled her nose prettily. “I’ve heard talk that Nic tipped the balance to land Lord Phel, if you know what I mean.” She laid her finger alongside her nose and winked.

“How could she have done that?” Alise asked, fully bewildered.

“There are ways,” Brinda said, nodding earnestly. “I’ve heard there are.”

“I don’t know what.” Alise truly didn’t. Also, Nic had run from Gabriel when she found out that he would be the one. She hadn’t wanted him to begin with.

“The Fascination,” Brinda breathed. “I’ve heard Nic felt it right away with Lord Phel. Is it true?”

Reluctantly, Alise nodded. Nic openly talked about how the Fascination had hit her hard and fast as soon as Gabriel walked into her tower chamber. Though the academy professors were divided on the topic—and Nic herself hadn’t believed in it—the Fascination persisted as a subject of great interest among students. The familiar Lyndella supposedly felt the Fascination for the wizard Sylus, making her ultimately unable to resist his allure, much as she and her family fought the match. Familiars supposedly Fascinated by their wizards gave themselves to the bonding with utter surrender. Come to think of it, Alise had heard speculation that Fascination and fertility were intertwined. Which sounded like more romantic nonsense to her.

At Alise’s confirming nod, Brinda squealed and clapped her hands together. “How did she do it?”

“I don’t think she did?” Alise answered, her confusion tipping it into a question.

“Would you ask? I’ve heard the Fascination can be induced.”

Brinda seemed to have “heard” a great deal. “Where could you have heard that? It doesn’t sound likely at all.”

“People talk.” Brinda shrugged. “I’m prepared to siphon my magic to you. As much as you want, until graduation, if you’ll just ask her for me.”

Alise dearly wanted to suggest that Brinda ask Nic herself, but of course the young woman would feel she couldn’t do that. She’d been terrified to approach Alise, a fellow student. No way would she write to the lady of a high house—however probationary the status of House Phel—to ask such impertinent and potentially dangerous questions.

“I’ll ask,” Alise conceded, mostly because she figured agreeing would end the conversation sooner. Brinda rewarded her with a squeal of joy, lurching as if she wanted to hug Alise, but fortunately remembering herself. “But I don’t need your magic.”

Brinda frowned. “With all due respect, Wizard Alise, you’re very low on magic. And something is draining you. Instead of regenerating your native magic, you’ve lost more just as we’ve sat here.”

Alise felt her jaw slacken in surprise, though she managed to keep her mouth from falling open.

“I’m very good at my job,” Brinda assured her, with rare confidence. “I’ve paid very close attention in my Care and Feeding of Wizards classes, plus my professors say I have a natural talent for assessing magic reserves. I plan to be the very best Familiar I can be for my wizard master, so giving you magic will be excellent practice for me. And you must know, Wizard Alise, that fire and sun magic is the universal donor. You can use it for anything!”

“All the same, that’s not necessary. I’m simply heavily involved in a few intensive projects. And I need to eat,” Alise said meaningfully. Then, given Brinda’s reference to her classes in the Care and Feeding of Wizards, which were not their official names any more than Bossing the Bodiless was, she added, “at the dining hall.”

“I don’t presume to know the arcane business of wizards,” Brinda replied, almost primly, “but I’m certain your projects are vitally important. You need magic for that. And at House Chur we are not ingrates. I cannot accept your help without giving in return. Please allow me to siphon my magic to you. And then you can eat a hearty meal and rest.”

Feeling neatly cornered into doing two things she didn’t want to do, Alise surrendered to the inevitable. Besides, her magic reserves had fallen low enough that a headache threatened to split her skull and she felt lightheaded. If she ran into Cillian—and he’d no doubt look for her at dinner—he’d cart her off to the infirmary and she wouldn’t be able to fight him on it.

“Fine,” she said on a sigh, then realized how ungracious she sounded. “That is, thank you, Familiar Brinda. I would be grateful.”

Brinda gave her a funny look, because apparently wizards didn’t thank Familiars like that, but proffered a hand, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. “I’m concentrating on opening a channel to you, Wizard,” she said in a quiet voice, “but do let me know if it needs adjusting. I’m committed to excellence in my practice.”

Alise wrapped her fingers around Brinda’s narrow wrist, feeling awkward and somewhat soiled, no matter how many times she’d done exactly this in class with a Familiar who wasn’t friend or family. As promised, Brinda’s magic positively gushed into her, bright as sunlight and scorching hot, filling the achingly empty spaces within Alise. She immediately felt so much better that she nearly gasped aloud in relief, her headache vanishing and the sense of wellbeing so profound she nearly laughed with the pure joy of it.

Replete in next to no time, she opened her eyes to find Brinda beaming at her. “You look much better,” Brinda proclaimed. “I mean, you’re always so beautiful, but now even more so. Did you get enough?”

“More than enough,” Alise answered, letting go of Brinda’s wrist. “You’re absolutely right. I feel ten-thousand times better and your magic is wonderfully pure.”

“Thank you, Wizard Alise.” Brinda visibly preened at the praise. “It’s the one thing I do well. That’s why I know my wizard master will cherish me and care for me always.”

The hallway suddenly teemed with students, a sure sign that the bell for students to eat had rung. Brinda hopped off the window ledge and said something more, which Alise couldn’t hear since Brinda had stepped outside of the silencing shield. By the time Alise had banished the spell, Brinda had disappeared into the mass stampede of students heading for the dining hall.

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