Page 34 of Reluctant Wizard

She considered that, finishing her sandwich and using the crusts to sop up the dregs of soup from the bowl. “Maybe,” she allowed. “My maman had exquisite taste and she loved us. She made our lives good and—” She broke off, unable to continue, coughing on some of the crumbs.

“Grieving is hard,” Cillian said with sympathy. “That alone would be enough for you to handle on top of finishing coursework for graduation. Now you have everything else to deal with, too.”

Summoned by Cillian’s words, one of the elephants, called Overdue Projects, bounced up to loom invisibly over her shoulder. She made the elephant named Matricide stay hidden in the corner, where it glared at her balefully. “Speaking of which,” she said decisively, “I need to go get some work done.”

“Today is a rest day.”

“No rest for the wicked—or the terminally late on fifty-seven assignments.”

“Your professors have been notified of the extenuating circumstances by Healer Jonathan, who explicitly told you not to work today. You meet with Morghana Seraphiel first thing in the morning. I have a meeting with Provost Uriel, which I’ll go to after I escort you to Morghana. In the meanwhile, you’re staying here where it’s safe. To rest.”

“Am I a captive then?” She’d meant the question to come out with sharp derision, but didn’t quite get it there. Instead, she sounded… wistful? Surely not.

“Like Sylus holding Lyndella prisoner until she admitted she wanted him as much as he craved her,” Cillian said teasingly, tapping the book beside him.

A new tension settled between them, sexual and fraught. Cillian was no Sylus, but then neither was Alise anything like sweet and yielding Lyndella. Unwillingly, she remembered yesterday’s kiss, how hot and hungry it had been. From the heat in Cillian’s black gaze, he was thinking of it, too.

“Cillian…” She trailed off, not certain what to say.

He cleared his throat and looked away. “I apologize. That was an inappropriate remark.”

“I think we’ve moved past inappropriate,” she commented drily. Might as well summon the elephant called Our Relationship to the fore. Out the windows, it had begun to snow thickly, the afternoon sky darkening with early dusk, and the fire elemental flickering brightly in the tiny fireplace made the room warm and cozy. Alise realized she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay. With Cillian. “I think we should talk about what this is between us.”

“Oh. Ah. I see,” he stammered, actually blushing. “Would you like another sandwich first? There’s more soup.”

Deflecting with busying himself. Turning things around so he was feeding her instead of talking about what he wanted. Craved. The word resonated in her mind. “No, thank you. I’m good for now. Stop avoiding this conversation.”

“You’re one to talk,” he replied, “as you’re avoiding discussing any number of things.”

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “How about this? I agree to stay here until tomorrow morning, without further protest, and I’ll allow you to escort me to see Professor Seraphiel. I’ll discuss anything you wish, but only after we talk about our relationship.”

“I see. That’s reasonable.” Instead of putting his tea on the side table, he leaned down to set it on the floor, where it would pose no danger to his books. He crossed his legs, folding his hands over his knee almost primly. His elevated foot bobbed, revealing his nerves. “I think we should agree that we are friends and colleagues only, that we shall put my inappropriate feelings and advances aside. I’m fully aware that there can be nothing of a, er, romantic nature between us and I will ensure that you never again feel pressure from me, from, ah, that direction. As it were.”

Suppressing a smile at how formal Cillian had become in his discomfort, Alise nodded gravely, pretending to consider. “I understand what you’re saying, but I have a different solution. I think we should have a love affair.”

Cillian’s mouth fell open and he goggled at her in a decidedly disconcerted fashion. “I—You—But, I and you, we can’t.”

“Why not? I want to. And you want to—unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“I, no. That is. The provost said…”

“Provost Uriel is an admirable woman and an excellent administrator of Convocation Academy, but as she reminded me recently, just as the high houses do not command her, she does not command the high houses. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I am still the daughter and heir-apparent to the lord of High House Elal and sister to the lady of House Phel. I call as my friends the lord and lady of High House El-Adrel. You are a well-regarded scion of High House Harahel. What we do is our own business.”

“Alise…” Cillian raked a hand through his curls, setting them into more disarray than usual. He retrieved his tea and gulped it like another man might take a bracing draught of brandy. “I care about you, obviously, and it’s too late for me to pretend that I don’t, um, desire you.” He blushed more deeply, avoiding her gaze. “But you are so very beautiful and powerful. There can be no future for us.”

“We can’t have a future because you… like me too much?”

“No, no, that is. Ach, I’m doing this badly. I know full well that you are not meant for me. You have a brilliant future ahead of you and I’m a Harahel librarian. I can’t be part of your life.”

What life, what brilliant future? Alise nearly snorted aloud at that, but decided that was an argument that would go nowhere. “Even if that’s so, and I don’t agree, why can’t we have now?”

“Because it would be better to spare ourselves the pain that parting would inevitably bring.”

“Would it be inevitable though?”

“You argue like a politician,” he retorted wryly.

“Probably too true. I may not have been my father’s favorite, but one can’t grow up in House Elal and not absorb political thinking. Still, my point is that we’ve started as friends. Why do you assume we wouldn’t stay friends?”

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