Page 22 of Strange Familiar

“Nander craves all that,” she said quietly. “Give it to him, because I don’t want it.”

Her father laughed and picked up his lap desk again. “Yes, you do. I can see it in you. And that’s why it’s always been you and never my wastrel son. He lacks your pride, your drive, your determination, your acute intelligence, and your sheer ability. I know it was you who took the bonds of the spirit spies attached to you. All of them, at once.” He laughed with every appearance of utter delight. “When I felt you do that, I felt such a burst of pride, Alise. Only my true daughter could accomplish such a feat—and at such a young age! With time and training, you could eclipse even me. You could well be the one Elal has waited and bred for all these centuries, the one to put House Elal forever at the pinnacle, after which all the world will be known simply as Elal.”

She returned her gaze to him, curiously. “Me? I thought you wanted this for yourself.”

“Of course I do,” he acknowledged, “but I labor for a greater goal. There is a selflessness required in laboring for the good of the family, of our house and name. None of this is truly about me. I am carrying forward a strategy formulated long ago, as passed to me by my father, and as I will pass along to you. That should help to clear your conscience, should you retain doubts. This is not about you raising up your own interests; this is about you ushering in a new world order.”

“With Elal at the top.”

“Of course.” He smiled and unfolded the letter he’d been writing. “Would you choose to elevate another high house? Sammael? Hanneil?” He snorted. “No house is more worthyor better equipped to rule than Elal. Believe me, someone will win this war. It is a choice between being the oppressed or the oppressor. Which would you rather be?”

When she didn’t answer, he chuckled drily and surveyed his missive so far. “Think on it. You’ll have plenty of time, now that you’ve agreed to study with me.”

“What about my degree—I still need to graduate from Convocation Academy.”

He looked up again, his one eyebrow climbing into an incredulous arch. The other must have been destroyed along with the eye because that quadrant of his face didn’t move, other than the lazy swirling of the spirits in the glass dome. “Now you pretend to care about your education? After repeatedly ditching school on various errands where you pretended to save people.”

“I did save people,” she retorted, stung into indignation.

“Temporarily, which means nothing. If you can’t make something last, you’ve failed. All that matters is the long game,” he repeated. “Those little lovebird familiars you think you spared their fate at House Sammael? They will inevitably be bonded to wizards, as is their rightful destiny. The librarian wizard will retire into his well-deserved obscurity along with the rest of his sorry excuse for a house. House Phel will be House Fell again, this time forever. They have served their purpose.”

Alise knew better than to ask what purpose that was, letting the silence fall as her father wound down and returned his attention to his letter. He’d changed, she realized, replaying the conversation, more than he knew. The missing eye was the outward manifestation, but something in his mind had destabilized. In the past, he’d never have been so garrulous nor divulged so much. He’d dropped many clues, however. A centuries-old strategy that had to do with the disastrous dissolution of House Phel. And why did he seem to think Nic could have overcome being a familiar? As far as anyone knew, including centuries of research on familiars, willing and unwilling, familiars simply could not become wizards. A neurophysiological connection failed to form, rendering them unable to wield magic, only to generate it.

“Speaking of familiars doing their duty,” he mused without looking up, adding something to the letter, “I have need of a new one. I’m considering engaging in the Betrothal Trials—or possibly offering a pre-empt. I understand Brinda Chur will be up for the taking soon. Adding fire and sun magic to our arsenal would be brilliant, indeed.”

That shocked Alise out of her musings. “Brinda Chur?” she echoed. Brinda had approached Alise at Convocation Academy, offering generous portions of her bright and brilliant magic in exchange for information on how to manipulate the Betrothal Trials. Surely she hadn’t been thinking to snag Lord Elal? Although she had expressed high ambitions. The prospect turned her stomach. “She’s my age.”

“A year older, I believe,” he replied absently. “Though you are in the same class, aren’t you? By all accounts, she’s rich in magic. And an alliance with House Chur could be very well timed, indeed. Besides, I need a young familiar. Your mother had grown old, her magic withered. I had to wait days between major workings, it took her so long to recharge. Yes, a fresh young familiar for the arcanium and a nubile young body for my bed will be just what the Refoel healer ordered. I’ll be like a young man again.” He looked up suddenly, grinning at what was probably an aghast expression on her face. “And she can breed me more heirs, as a backup to you, in case you falter. Though I’ll also have the Phel infant.”

“You agreed to leave Bria alone if I came with you,” she fired at him, heart thumping.

“Peace, Daughter. I will abide by my word. I’m aware your… compliance rests on me leaving the child alone. But, when House Phel once again sinks into the swamps from which it came, your pretty niece will need a place to go. Would you leave her an orphan, alone in the world to fend for herself, or adopt her into her rightful house?”

“Her rightful house is Phel.”

“No. Phel is only the seed. Elal is the source and the soil. Why do you think I allowed your sister to quicken with a rogue wizard like Gabriel Phel? Elal needs that child. And perhaps Seliah Phel’s to round it out. We could stand to recharge our portion of El-Adrel magic.”

“Seliah isn’t pregnant.” And Jadren would never allow her to be in jeopardy, or for anyone to take their child if she were.

He shrugged, pen moving across the fine stationery. “If she isn’t yet—and I’m not sure you’re correct, given the information I’m privy to—then she soon will be. But there’s time to let that one ripen, as it were.”

Alise dearly wished to be able to tell Cillian all of this. The pieces of the puzzle, as he would put it, seemed to be all laid on the table, only awaiting the right mind to assemble them into the big picture. Perhaps she could figure out how Nic had used the confidential Ratsiel courier to send him a message. Or bind a spirit to take a missive to Cillian. They were still friends, more or less, weren’t they? And even if he never forgave her for leaving him without a word, he wouldn’t be able to resist a riddle. Yes, she’d get a message to him and another to Nic and Gabriel. Also to Jadren and Seliah, warning them all.

“If I’m to be your heir, Papa,” she said, returning to her childhood name for him, “I should complete my degree.” Being back at school would give her the freedom she needed. “It shouldn’t take long at this point. A few more months at Convocation Academy and—”

“Out of the question,” he interrupted without raising his voice, a wreath of spirits encircling her throat and squeezing with light, but inexorable pressure. “Do you think I would share all of this with you and allow you the option of communicating with any of them?” He sneered the word. “No, until I’m convinced that you are firmly on the side of House Elal, I will complete your education in isolation. I think the tower where Nic spent her Betrothal Trials will work admirably. You will live there until I am certain of you.”

Aware suddenly of the reality of her imprisonment, Alise looked out the carriage window at the valley below, House Elal proudly situated in the middle, in the curve of the river. Several towers spiraled up from the ancient, rambling structure, the tallest holding at the top the circular room Nic had occupied for months without leaving, sequestered so that the identity of the father of her child could not be in doubt.

“You might consider using the time to good effect,” her father added. “Conduct your own fertility trials.”

“Fertility trials?” she echoed, too aghast to do otherwise.

“You, too, will need a familiar.”

“I don’t want a familiar,” she replied without thinking, still consumed with the horrifying prospects of being sequestered in that tower room, entertaining male familiars in an attempt to become pregnant, and having Brinda as part of House Elal. Her father had forced breeding on his brain and it was ugly.

“Nonsense,” he snapped. “Any wizard of worth has a familiar. That’s the entire reason for their existence, to bolster the careers of wizards. You know what they say: behind every great wizard is a great familiar. You must simply set aside those foolishly romantic notions of that bookish boy you dallied with—I’m sure he was fine to learn on, but that’s in your past now—and realize that in a male familiar you can have everything you need. Magic, companionship, support, sex, children.”

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