Page 27 of Reluctant Wizard

What in the dark arts had come over him?

Groaning, he pulled at his hair, remembering how sweet her slim, delicate fingers had felt against his scalp, both soothing and stimulating. He wanted it again. And again. He’d uncorked a bottle that could never be sealed the same way. Speaking of bottles, though…

“Is that a bottle in your pants pocket?” he asked, gesturing vaguely in that direction and heroically attempting to banish the image of her slim thighs beneath the baggy material. As soon as he said it, he realized the question echoed a common bawdy joke. Alise’s raised brows indicated she thought so, too. “I mean, I felt it when, we, ah—” He coughed into his fist, then deciding they were much too close, pushed to his feet and gazed beseechingly at the stack of information he’d prepared for her. That was the real and very pressing reason they were alone together.

“A bottle, yes.” Alise stood up also, placing a proprietary hand on that pocket. “It’s nothing.”

That was a lie—and at least, it woke him to his senses. He rounded on her, planting fists on hips. He’d had flat enough. Yes, he’d made a massive mistake, but there was nothing to be done about it now. And it didn’t change the bald truth that Alise had been hiding all sorts of unpleasantness—from him and from everyone else—and he’d resolved to put an end to it. For her own fucking good.

“No more lies,” he told her. “No more prevarications, or deliberate omissions, or deflections to conceal the truth.”

She glared at him, cheeks flushed. “You don’t tell me what—”

“Who else is there?” he demanded. “Who is taking care of you while you deal with this?” He stabbed a finger at the files he’d uncovered regarding the wizard masquerading as Gordon Hanneil.

Her gaze flicked to the stack of paper and away again, face tightening with such real fear that his heart broke for her. “Who else can you trust?” he asked, more gently. “Because you can trust me.”

“I don’t want you hurt.” She shook her head as she spoke.

“Good, because I don’t want to be hurt, and now you will understand how I feel.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Let’s start with the bottle. If it’s nothing, then you can tell me why you’re carrying it in your pocket.”

She sighed deeply, but complied, digging it out and handing it to him. “See? A basic grooming imp bottle.”

“And you’re carrying it around in case you have a grooming emergency?” Many students did, he knew, but they favored the smaller, portable ones. Not the heavy desktop variety.

Rolling her eyes at him, she reached for it, but he moved it away, giving her a pointed look. “I stuffed it with spirits,” she said, as if that explained anything. “And it requires my attention to keep them in there, so its easier to have it on me. Proximity reduces the magic drain. May I have it back now?” She held out an imperious hand and he placed the bottle in it.

He wasn’t done with this, though. Not by a league. Watching her tuck the bottle back in her pocket, he triaged his thoughts on the subject, deciding which to lead with. “Why,” he inquired, as politely as he could manage, “did you stuff a grooming imp bottle with a collection of spirits?” Maybe she had a good reason. He seriously doubted it, but he definitely wanted to hear this one.

She flicked him a glance, buttoning the pocket. “I didn’t want to be spied on, so I gathered all the spying entities in my room, then I had to put them somewhere.”

He held onto his temper by a thin thread. “I know you’re capable of banishing them.”

“Yes, but then the wizards I stole them from would know I did it,” she replied with impatience, as if that reasoning made any sense. “Though now I’m fucked because I used two of them for the cloaking on the way here and lost my hold on them when I… blanked out for a moment there.”

Not admitting that she’d fainted, he noted. Stubborn woman. “What will the repercussions be?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted darkly. “I suppose I’ll find out.”

“Then let the rest go,” he suggested. “The damage is done.”

She put a possessive hand over the pocket holding the bottle. “I won’t. I have my reasons.”

“Even though it’s harmful to you?”

“Even so.” She stopped short of pouting, but the obstinate lift of her chin told him her pride was involved. Alise wasn’t behaving rationally, that much was abundantly clear.

Cillian chose his words carefully. “I feel like this is not a long-term solution, if it’s draining your magic.”

“I know that.” She held up a hand in tacit apology for snapping at him. “I need to figure out what to do. I just haven’t had time. I thought about asking Professor Cixin, but how would I explain why this was necessary?”

He thought that question should be her first clue that she wasn’t thinking clearly, but he restrained that observation. “Let me do the research for you,” he offered instead. “I bet I can find something in the archives, in the records off-limits to students.” He’d have to go carefully, to avoid questions from his supervisors, but he could always spin a tale about a personal research project tangential to the information he truly needed. He could pull that off. Nothing about it was illegal, so it wouldn’t be anything like what had happened with Szarina.

The look of gratitude Alise gave him made it all worthwhile. “That would be amazing. Thank you.”

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