Page 11 of Strange Familiar

“Nic!” Cheeks scalding, Alise tried not to choke.

“Oh, you have,” Nic crooned. “Tell me every little detail.”

“No.”

“It’s your job to distract me. I’m in pain,” Nic wheedled.

Alise sighed. “You’re just nosy is all.”

“Exactly so,” Nic replied jauntily. “Tremendously curious. Insatiably so. Only a dense recitation of every intimate detail will satisfy me. So: spill.” She’d turned them on a pretty path leading around one of the wings of the manse, far away from any eavesdroppers.

“There’s really nothing to tell,” Alise said, deciding this was a ripe opportunity to set the record straight regarding Cillian and her, and to cement what she knew their future must be. It was over between them, no matter how the thought pained her. Denying reality any longer would serve nothing. Not only couldn’t she and Cillian ever be; they shouldn’t have ever been. She might as well make it official.

“I apologize that my wording made our relationship sound like more than it was. I only meant that Wizard Harahel had been assigned as my independent study mentor and that he was safeguarding me against any troubles. Not that there were any,” she hastily added. “But in your letter you mentioned vague fears about me being in danger, so I thought I should address those.”

“Mmm hmm.” Nic’s ostensible agreement sounded more skeptical than anything.

As Nic also said nothing more after that, Alise plowed on. “I mean, some things did happen that I’ll share with you and Gabriel as you’ll need to know about them.” She was digging herself into a hole. Nic would be upset by the entire truth—information she and Gabriel needed as Lord and Lady Phel—but wasn’t it bad for a woman in labor to receive bad news?

“Eventually,” she added, “after the baby is born and you’ve recovered.”

“Don’t do that,” Nic warned, her tone falsely mild. They’d entered an orchard with tiny, bright green leaves starting to unfurl on the gracefully twisted limbs of the ancient trees. “I’m pregnant, not addle-brained.”

Alise belatedly recalled Nic’s letter mentioning her threat to stab Gabriel with a fork for calling her emotional. “My point is that, to answer your question, no, I’m not romantically involved with Cilli—Wizard Harahel. He’s a friend. And mentor. Only.”

“I see,” Nic replied amiably. “So, despite the difference I sense in your magic, which includes a wealth of feeling that’s quite palpable, you didn’t have—let’s protect your delicate sensibilities, shall we?—ah, intimate relations with that adorable boy?”

“He’s older than you are,” Alise pointed out, irritated with both of them. How in the dark arts could Nic sense all of this in her?

“Is he?” Nic sighed rubbing her belly. Alise side-eyed the substantial mound, checking for more ripples. “I feel so much older than you lot these days, so much has happened.”

Alise understood that feeling, very well.

“But,” Nic continued in a brighter tone, “I observe that you have twice dodged this question and therefore conclude that you did have sex with the delightful librarian wizard and I of course happen to know this was your first sex, so… How was it?”

Wonderful. Amazing. Soul-shatteringly intimate. She’d never felt so loved and adored as when Cillian had made love to her. And now it was gone. “I think I liked our relationship better when we weren’t speaking,” she griped.

“That good, huh?” Nic murmured, squeezing her arm. “Does the fact that you’re here—clearly surprised to discover I’m in labor—without your beloved and smelling like a five-day old slaughtered pig mean that—”

“Enough with the stink remarks already.” Alise extracted her arm and stepped a good two arm’s lengths away. “As a matter of fact, no I haven’t bathed in several days and I’m covered in muck because the roads here in Meresin, if you can dignify them with that title, are actually shallow bogs. I travelled here from House Harahel after Lady Harahel—who just happens to be Cillian’s grandmother, a fact that adorable librarian boy forgot to mention—threw me out for being a filthy, stinking Elal, and I don’t know if Cillian is even all right because he found the hidden Phel texts in the Convocation Archives and it nearly killed him to extract them and carry them to House Harahel where they’ll be safe because House Hanneil sent a spy wizard to try to stop me, which was horrible, and—” She dragged in a breath, finding she simply couldn’t around the rock lodged in her chest.

Nic regarded her solemnly, both hands rubbing her belly. “That’s a lot.”

“I’m sorry,” Alise managed to get out, pressing her fingers on either side of her nose, willing herself not to cry and discovering it was too late. “I’m not supposed to upset you.”

“Gabriel can tough it out if I can,” Nic said, her gorgeous emerald eyes welling with sympathetic tears. “You should have told me your heart was broken.”

“It’s not. I’m just tired and… And Cillian, he…” A sob tore out of her.

“Oh, honey.” Nic opened her arms. “Come here you little stinkbomb.”

Needing the embrace, Alise let Nic hold her, weeping on her big sister’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I sm—sm—smell bad,” she sobbed.

Nic patted her back. “It’s all right. Nothing a small herd of grooming imps can’t cure. You must have been right out of your head that it didn’t occur to you to summon some. Let’s go back to the manse and you can tell me the whole story, including who at House Hanneil we have to kill for daring to hurt you.”

“He—he’s already dead. Or as good as. Provost Uriel took care of it. She wiped the floor with him. She’s actually a terrifyingly powerful wizard. Did you know that? And Morghana Seraphiel tutored me in the dark arts and then told me to tell you that House Seraphiel stands ready to assist, and I’m forgetting more.”

“Definitely a story we need to hear.” Nic patted her back. “Unfortunately, it will have to be later.”

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