Page 37 of Strange Familiar

No wonder she’d agreed so readily to save her niece by returning to House Elal with her father. He knew Alise and it would have wounded her to be expelled from Harahel, and then to hear no word from him. Or perhaps he didn’t know Alise as well as he thought, as he hadn’t figured this out until now.

Piers Elal, following at least some level of Cillian’s sequence of realizations, nodded. “So, you see. You will leave and—”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Cillian interrupted with quiet dignity. It wasn’t really in him to stand up to others, especially someone who outstripped him in rank, wealth, and power as Lord Elal did. But this was important. Maybe the most important thing he’d ever do. No matter how it worked out between Alise and him, he had to clear up this terrible misunderstanding. He withdrew the paper from his pocket. Because he’d sealed it with his archivist’s magic, the simple note was as fresh and crisp as on the day Alise had grudgingly penned it, her contained fury showing in the bold strokes and slashes of her handwriting. She hadn’t meant to grant him the favor, a slip of the tongue in her determination to protect him and get rid of him.

Finally approaching Elal, presiding behind his desk like a king, Cillian came around the side, forcing Lord Elal to turn to face him. He would be no supplicant. Holding the note between his first and middle fingers, Cillian offered it. “Wizard Alise owes me a favor to be determined later. I’m calling in that favor by requesting a private audience with her.”

Piers Elal snatched up the note in clear outrage, his face crimson, his magic intensifying as if he’d love nothing more than to reduce Cillian to a steaming pile of goo on the spot. He glared at the note, fuming. “That fucking idiot,” he snarled. “Wait until I give her a piece of my mind about this.”

“Not until the favor is granted,” Cillian reminded him lightly. “I know you wouldn’t want your house to be foresworn.”

Elal’s one good eye glared daggers at him, the metal patch nearly glowing with a swirl of maddened spirits. Then his expression shifted craftily and he made to tear up the note. Nothing doing. In growing rage he summoned a fire elemental to burn the thing, with no greater effect. Cillian watched politely, in mild amusement.

“Archival quality preservation,” he finally said, all friendly helpfulness. “Librarians aren’t good for much, but we do know how to preserve documents from, ah, tampering.”

Elal tossed the note on his desk, lip in that contemptuous curl. “Only you and I know about this. I can have you eliminated.”

“And Alise,” Cillian corrected, gesturing to her handwriting. “She knows.”

“My daughter also knows when to keep her mouth shut.”

“Oh,” Cillian inserted as if he’d just remembered, “and my grandmother knows, as does all of House Harahel. Why do you think she granted me the introduction to come here? She wasn’t any more eager to send me than you are to have me.”

Piers Elal gripped the edge of his desk. “You think you’ve outmaneuvered me, but you are gravely mistaken, book boy. Alise doesn’t want you. She’ll simply tell you to leave and you will have wasted—wasted!—a favor from House Elal. And you’re supposed to be so smart.”

A fool for love, Cillian supposed, so he only smiled. “Nevertheless, this is the favor I ask of her.”

Lord Elal fumed, but finally threw up his hands. “Fine. You can stay for dinner and see her then.”

“I did specify a private audience.”

“Which you will have, after dinner.” Lord Elal smiled in malicious satisfaction. “If you still want to at that point. I advise you to consider otherwise. You might wish to cash in that favor for something better than a conversation that will only disappoint you. Wealth, a sinecure. I understand you were fired from Convocation Academy. Incompetence, was it?”

“I look forward to seeing Alise at dinner,” Cillian said, not allowing his resolve to waver. “Shall I remain here until then or…?” He allowed the question to trail off, highlighting Elal’s lack of hospitality, for all his blustering about it.

“I should make you wait in the carriage,” Lord Elal snarled. “But no, I shall offer what Órlaith couldn’t be bothered to do. Likely House Harahel had no spare rooms nor enough food to go around to offer my daughter. I’ll do better. You can stay the night. Have dinner. Plead your pitiful case to Alise, then be sent packing in the morning. I’ll enjoy seeing you creep off after my daughter shows you the road.”

Cillian figured that was as likely an outcome of any.

~ 19 ~

It had been a long day, but a rewarding one. Alise had mastered a new skill and felt terribly pleased with herself. It had helped that her father had left her alone in the arcanium for a time, giving her the opportunity to experiment with trial and error without his forbidding presence.

Yes, he’d become far more free with praise, but he was also quick to point out her mistakes. Professor Cixin, in particular, had extolled the virtues of making mistakes, saying one learned more from failures than from successes. And learned she had from those many failures, then found the way through. Feeling accomplished, Alise sipped her wine, enjoying the company of her boys, the musician among them playing a new tune, the others keeping up quiet conversation in a demure, undemanding way that allowed her to listen or not. She could live this way. It wasn’t a bad life. She nearly laughed at herself for the thought as she allowed her gaze to travel over the luxurious, even ornate smaller dining room for intimate family. “Intimate” meaning the table sat twelve easily. Though only the six of them currently nibbled at the hors d’oeuvres course, two more place settings awaited more company. One for Lord Elal, assuredly. Alise idly wondered if the other was for Brinda or some guest of her father’s.

For all but a few of the people in the Convocation, her current opulent lifestyle exceeded anything they could imagine, let alone hope for. She was privileged, lucky to have all of this, and she needed to appreciate that. Never mind that she hadn’t chosen it. Strike that. She had made a choice. She’d known the stakes and consequences when she agreed to accompany her father back to House Elal. In truth, she’d fully expected to be miserable, a tormented prisoner as she’d been initially. But, once her father saw the error of his ways and began treating her like a real member of the family, like his heir and colleague… Well, everything had obviously gotten much better and she should be happy.

She was happy.

Or, at least, content.

Satisfied.

She didn’t really understand why, under it all, the restless misery persisted.

You miss Cillian, a tiny voice inside whispered, quietly, but so insistently that she couldn’t ignore it. All right, fine. She drew out the feeling and let it sit, probing the pain of missing him like checking a bad tooth, the responding twinges shockingly sharp. Deliberately, she studied each of her boys, all so reminiscent of Cillian yet none able to hold a candle to him. Noticing her attention, they each smiled warmly in return, sitting up straighter and preening for her. Of course, they were all familiars and so they couldn’t compete with a full wizard. That wasn’t their fault; they were all perfectly fine people.

Still, they weren’t him, and Alise fought a sense of drowning despair that she’d forever feel the lack of Cillian in her life. Maybe if she could see him one more time, she could get over him. Surely he hadn’t been all that sweet. He’d flown into a rage once and he could be cranky. He’d been an absolute pill in the carriage on the flight to House Harahel, not to mention that he’d never bothered to write to her. Yes, if she could see him again, she’d recognize he’d been a passing crush during a difficult phase of her life, she decided, sipping her delicious wine. She wouldn’t feel this—

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