Page 30 of Strange Familiar

Alise looked away, her feelings too mixed to consider. She’d been doing a lot of that lately. Cillian would probably call her out, saying she was in some kind of denial, but Cillian wasn’t there, was he? No, Cillian was ensconced at House Harahel and too busy—or too pissed at her—to send a Ratsiel courier. Probably he didn’t even know where she was. More likely, he didn’t care to find out, which was fine. Their relationship, such as it had been, had always been about the intimacy of the moment, the time and place and project. She’d known from the beginning and every step along the way that the liaison with him would go nowhere. Where she’d tripped up was forgetting that essential truth and getting attached.

And, as much as she hated to admit it, her father might be right about her getting a familiar. If she found one she liked, and that didn’t have to be right away—and she definitely didn’t want babies anytime soon, if at all—she could see now the benefits of bonding a familiar. It wouldn’t have to be a predatory relationship. Look at Nic and Gabriel, Jadren and Seliah, too. They were bonded and they worked together as a team, a loving partnership.

It was something to aspire to. She could find a male familiar with the qualities she’d enjoyed in Cillian—bookish, intelligent, gentle, a nurturer—plus she’d have his magic to boost hers in this truly delicious and exhilarating way. There was a compelling aspect to the adoration with which Brinda regarded her wizard master. With a bonded familiar, Alise would never need to worry if he was angry at her or disappointed in her. Her familiar not only wouldn’t abandon her, he wouldn’t want to leave her, full stop. He would want to take care of her and that sounded pretty wonderful at this stage, too.

Nic and the other familiars at Convocation Academy liked to make a joke out of some of the classes teaching familiars how to best support their future wizards. They called the classes “Care and Feeding of Wizards 101,” which was funny, but also contained a grain of truth. Familiars were perfectly suited and positioned to provide for a wizard’s needs. Feeling the hunger and exhaustion set in from the hours spent in the arcanium, Alise could easily envision the pleasure of having a loving partner to put a meal before her, to run her a bath, rub her shoulders, perhaps make love to her in the way Cillian had taught her to crave. Would that be so wrong?

Having someone look at her the way Brinda regarded Piers, too, well… Cillian had also taught her to value that, to cherish that feeling of being cared for. She couldn’t have Cillian, that much was obvious, was water under the bridge, but she could have a familiar of her own. It was her birthright. No one would blame her for bonding one.

Familiars were relegated to their station in life regardless. Alise couldn’t change that. Even though she could sever the wizard–familiar bond, she couldn’t do that without killing the familiar. And if she didn’t bond her familiar, someone else would, and they very likely wouldn’t be as kind as Alise planned to be. Maybe she was, as her father insisted, being stubborn about refusing all the young familiars he’d sent. Any number had been pleasing to look at and eager to win her favor. She could have at least talked with some of them, gotten to know them a little.

She could discuss this with her father, she decided, as she followed him out of the arcanium. He’d listen to her as she explained her thinking, that she didn’t want babies yet, and he’d be mollified, encouraged by her interest in courting a familiar on her own. Yes, he’d be happy that she’d begun to see the validity of his argument.

Because he carried Brinda, now sleeping trustingly in his arms, Alise handled locking and disguising the entrance, something a solo wizard could do and a task her father had begun trusting her with a few days ago. Or was it a week? She was seriously losing track of time. Their relationship had changed over the past… while. Whatever. He was a good teacher, quick with praise, precise with critique for improvements. She’d begun to think that she—all of them—had perhaps judged him too harshly.

Yes, he’d been angry at Nic, but looking at it from his perspective, as he’d asked her to do, Nic had shamed him and House Elal by attempting to escape. She’d made them all look bad and then refused to even have a conversation with him about it. Instead Nic had demanded her dowry and more, having the temerity to expect Elal vines to grow her own grapes, which meant she could compete with House Elal wines in the future.

Piers had been deeply hurt by that, he confessed to Alise one night after their regular father-daughter dinner. At first those dinners had been stilted, Alise sitting in sullen silence, refusing to converse. But her father had determinedly kept up a one-sided discourse, explaining how difficult it had been for him to be abandoned by his eldest daughter, and then his heir, to have lost his wife and familiar of nearly thirty years—only to have no one to comfort him in his grief.

Though he’d hinted in the past that he suspected Alise’s role in the severing of his wizard-familiar bond with her maman, he couldn’t know anything more than that the bond had broken and she’d eventually died. Maman had been weak when he was forced to leave her behind at House Phel. He’d been injured, unconscious, packed into a carriage by Gabriel Phel and forcibly separated from his lifelong familiar, who then died. And then to have everyone treat him as a villain instead of as the bereaved widower… Well, it had been devastating.

Then, to heap insult upon injury, none of them had thought to give him the barest courtesy of notifying him of Bria’s birth, much less inviting him to the naming ceremony. Yes, he’d been angry and he was ashamed of himself in the wake of it all. He’d always had a temper, as Alise knew, and he’d let it get away from him, in his hurt, offense, and ongoing grief. He’d never expected his entire family to turn on him and, well, it had injured his pride. All of it had made him take a good long look at himself. Still, he couldn’t regret the outcome as it had brought him this: this one, golden and unique opportunity to get to know Alise, and to teach her all he knew.

One of his greatest fears had been that he’d never be able to pass on the Elal secrets he alone had known. All due to his foibles, may their ancestors curse him. Ferdinand had his place and his uses, but he wasn’t the wizard Alise was. Piers deeply regretted, he confessed one night, when they’d both had a fair amount of a truly excellent vintage of Elal Summer Red, on top of a very long stint in the arcanium, that he’d taken so long to bring Alise under his wing.

What if something had happened to him—as when he’d very nearly died during the battle at House Phel—and the location of and access to the Elal arcanium had died with him? He’d actually brushed away a stream of tears from his remaining good eye. That had been a real wake-up call, when he emerged from the worst of his grief and found himself alone. And he’d known he needed to do whatever it took to make Alise his heir. Not for his own sake, but for the sake of the Elal legacy his foolishness and pride threatened to destroy.

And now, he’d found so much happiness with her—and Brinda—and it had become the greatest wish of his heart for them to continue to work together. Alise was everything in a wizard and heir he could hope for. He wanted her to know that, how exceedingly proud he was of her, of her natural talent, her power and proficiency. In truth, he predicted that Alise would someday exceed himself, that she’d lead House Elal to even greater heights. Mostly he wanted her to know how very proud he was of her. He didn’t expect her to forgive him anything—he didn’t deserve forgiveness, not after how badly he’d behaved—but he hoped she’d understand if he clung to a dream that she’d finally believe, in her heart and mind, how very much she meant to him.

For a time—quite a while, really—Alise had clung to her cynicism, her memory of all that had happened, the things that she knew to be true. There was no alternate perspective to her father penetrating the House Phel arcanium, attempting to steal that magic for himself. That confrontation had led to Gabriel taking his eye, and only because Nic asked him not to kill her father outright.

When Alise mentioned that, her father acknowledged that it had been a terrible time for all of them, but gave it no more weight than that. Hadn’t he paid a terrible price, he wanted to know? He had and paid dearly. An eye for an eye, and all when his greatest crime had been to fight for House Elal, for all the people beholden to House Elal, and the hundreds of thousands living in Elal proper. He’d been doing his duty as Lord Elal, battling for his life. He was sorry that Nic couldn’t forgive him, but he wondered if she didn’t bear him some love in her heart somewhere still, as she obviously hadn’t wanted him dead. At what point could it be considered that justice had been served and he should be, if not forgiven, at least allowed to go forward without prejudice?

Alise didn’t have a good answer to that. As the days wore on, she felt she grew to know her father as a person in a way she never had before. He agreed to let her move out of the tower, admitting that he’d put her there out of fear that she, too, would leave him. As she’d hoped, he enthusiastically agreed to her proposal that she court potential familiars outside of a bed-or-be-bedded scenario. He’d been laboring under false assumptions and truly only wanted the best for her, had hoped that the old adage that the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else. He’d added a bawdy wink that had her laughing, surprised to find herself unexpectedly in sync with him.

Which described the entire experience of being back at House Elal, not as a prisoner or a child or a probationary heir, but as a fully acknowledged heir and… appreciated partner. Every time she earned praise from her father, every time he told her how proud he was of her, of her accomplishments, she felt as if she grew a little taller. He showered her with gifts: more beautiful clothing than she’d ever owned, various fancy tools and instruments to use in the arcanium and out, gorgeously bound books fresh off the Calliope printing press. When she moved out of the tower room, expecting to go to her old rooms, she instead found he’d given her an entire floor of the newest wing.

She didn’t know where the various wizard minions who’d occupied those rooms had gone, but no one complained. In truth, everyone she encountered at House Elal greeted her with a new and gratifying deference. After being a social pariah at Convocation Academy, an unwelcome and quickly evicted guest at House Harahel, and always feeling like an extra with no permanent place at House Phel, being treated like a queen at House Elal was, well, kind of nice. Perhaps she could make her place there. After all, Jadren had become head of the house of his birth without compromising his values.

It hadn’t seemed possible before, but she could see a path forward now. There could be an ongoing conversation with her father, reaching across the differences that divided them and finding mutual consensus. She could be the one to do that. She understood now what her father had been saying to her in the carriage about having the courage and fortitude to lead House Elal forward. He wasn’t telling her what to do, simply asking that she accept her birthright and heritage. Once she became Lady Elal, at some point in the future, she’d be well-positioned to ally with House Phel. She could take her revenge against House Hanneil. No one would laugh at her then, or exclude her from their social circles. She’d be too powerful to shun.

And, if she bonded a familiar, she’d never be lonely.

So, she moved into the grand suite of rooms with large windows paned with the finest Byssan glass. Her father encouraged her to decorate and furnish it as she liked because, as his heir, she should have the best of everything and her apartments at the house should reflect that. It was immensely gratifying to return to her own grand suite after a long day in the arcanium, to be greeted by her private staff of servants, and to witness all the changes that had been made in her absence, all to please her. She’d devoted an entire room to housing her nascent library, with comfy reading chairs.

Catching herself wondering how Cillian would like it, she set that thought aside. If Cillian had truly loved her, as her father had pointed out one night as they lingered over a lovely dessert wine, he would have at least sent her a message. Actions spoke louder than words, Piers reminded her with a sad and thoughtful sigh. He might be late to the game, but he was doing everything in his power to show her how much he loved her, how high she stood in his regard.

Alise selected five of the familiars from the ones her father had suggested, the ones she’d liked best, or at least felt some affinity for, and they came to live at House Elal, on the floor below hers. Any leisure time she had—other than the now regular, nightly dinners with her father, when it was only the two of them—she spent with the “boys,” as her father liked to call them. They were sweet, attentive, and showed flattering interest in her. For a girl who’d barely even kissed a boy before Cillian, it made for a heady experience. They were all eager to win her, bringing her small, thoughtful gifts, even showing off skills like the one with a lovely tenor voice who sang for her or another who composed charming poetry.

It wasn’t a terrible way to live. In truth, other than the long arcanium sessions, which left her rejuvenated with power and preening with pride over her accomplishments, it was leagues better than her grueling schedule at Convocation Academy. No one expected her to prove anything at House Elal, or to make up for past errors or live up to some exacting standard. She could be herself, which turned out to be plenty to earn the admiration of all around her.

In the fullness of time, she’d forget she’d ever thought to want anything else.

~ 16 ~

It took longer than Cillian had estimated or wanted, to get to the bottom of the folded archive. Or the side pockets or twisted-up middle, however you wanted to envision the non-space. Iliana and Han were tirelessly generous, taking turns supplying him with magic, for which he was immensely grateful, even though receiving magic from them was nothing like sharing with Alise.

The invidious comparison kept running around and through his mind to the extent that he had to bite down on the impulse to blurt it out. He was tired, that was all, that was the only reason he was tempted to articulate such an ungenerous observation. He was tired on a level beyond physical weariness, though that was a component. Even after he slept, he woke up unrefreshed. But, more, he felt emotionally exhausted, wrung out from worrying about Alise.

---