Page 47 of Reluctant Wizard

He wasn’t sure whether to take umbrage at that. Still, she sounded less broken and that heartened him. “Listen, you’re talking about an experimental technique with a dataset of two points. One of those points—not to be unfeeling about your maman, but regarding the situation with a level of objectivity—was a person already in peril. She’d been non-responsive since her rescue, had spent far too long in her alternate form, and seemed unlikely to survive as she was. Yes? Or you wouldn’t have tried a desperation move to attempt to save her.”

“True,” Alise agreed reluctantly. “But Laryn—”

“Right. Data point number two. A woman who was pregnant, disgraced, feeling the intense displeasure of her bonded wizard. No matter the status of their relationship, she sounds like someone already deeply unhappy to the point of apathy. Was she in robust health and spirits before you performed the severing?”

“Well, she was imprisoned in her rooms and barely eating.”

“I’m gonna call that a no.”

“Fair.” Alise sounded somewhat less despondent, which was definitely encouraging.

“Finally, every good experiment testing a new technique requires a control and you had none.”

“I don’t know how you’d control for that.”

“Offhand? I don’t either, but I can say with confidence that this was a flawed experiment.”

“It wasn’t an experiment so much as—what did you call it?—a desperation move.”

“Exactly.” He squeezed her lightly, aware of her birdlike bones and resilient spirit. “You can’t draw conclusions from that. You tried something desperate to help your mother, with the best of intentions, and it tragically didn’t save her life. But,” he said, talking over her when she tried to interrupt, “bear with me a moment, please, because this is important. The outcome could have, very likely would have, been exactly the same, with or without your attempt to save her.”

Alise was quiet for a long time. “I feel like you’re making excuses for me,” she finally said.

“Was Nic upset with you—did she blame you for your mother’s death?”

She twisted to look up at him, though he figured she couldn’t see more of his expression than he could hers. “Of course not!”

“Because Nic is so even tempered, forgiving, never expects much of anyone.” He nodded knowingly, just in case Alise missed the sarcasm.

“Right.” Alise snorted at the image of fiery, strong-minded Nic being any of those things, then she sighed. “I know what you’re doing. Nic told me it wasn’t my fault, but…”

“But you decided to blame yourself anyway. And nearly tore yourself apart in the process.”

“I have to hold myself accountable,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to become a monster. I don’t want to be my father.”

“Oh, darling Alise. You couldn’t be. It’s not in you. Your heart is too big.”

“You have a worryingly skewed perspective of me,” she said wryly. “What about my sharp tongue?”

“Sharp tongue, soft heart,” he intoned. “That’s what my people say.”

She snort-giggled. “They do not.”

“You’ll see when you come to House Harahel. In the meanwhile, what are you doing to hone this skill you discovered?”

She levered up onto one elbow, a darker shadow looming over him. “Are you crazy? Nothing! First of all, if word of this possibility gets out, it will upend the Convocation, probably start a war between houses. And second, there is no way I’m going near doing anything like that ever again.”

He waited, but she had nothing more, silently vibrating in challenge. “Allow me to rebut then. First of all, word clearly has gotten out or House Ariel wouldn’t have sent that message, specifically to you. They know something. Maybe not all of it, but they suspect and—more saliently—they suspect you. You’re in danger, Alise, and you can’t wield denial as a blunt force weapon in hopes that the threat will go away. That goes for your second point, as well: you might wish you could undo the past, but you can’t. This is an ability you have. Do you really want to wait until you’re feeling desperate enough, again, to try a skill you never spent time honing and perfecting?”

“I just won’t do it,” she answered sullenly, after a significant pause.

“Not even to save someone’s life? To save Seliah’s life? Or Nic’s?”

“You don’t know it would come to that!”

“Neither of us knows that it won’t, either.”

A low growl emanated from her and she landed the meat of her fist in the center of his chest, making him grunt, mostly in surprise. “You are impossible to argue with,” she complained.

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