Page 41 of Strange Familiar

“But I am.”

“I heard what happened at Bria’s naming, and I’m more sorry than I can say that I wasn’t there with you. I know you agreed to come here to protect her.”

“Of my own free will,” she insisted. “No, Cillian. You can’t argue that with me. I made an agreement with my father with my eyes wide open and dozens of witnesses. I’m not a prisoner here.” She hesitated over that, for some reason, making him wonder, but she plowed on. “I’m learning from him. I’m his heir as you always said I should be.”

“I said you should be Lady Elal if you wanted to be,” he felt compelled to clarify, “not that you should become your father’s creature.”

Her mouth fell open and she straightened. “My father’s creature—is that what you think I am?”

“Are you saying you’re not?” he fired back, the decadent scene in the dining salon roaring back into his mind with full force. Never mind that Lord Elal had clearly engineered that little scenario, wanting Cillian to see Alise in that setting. She’d still been fully immersed in it.

“You have no idea what I’m trying to do here,” she gritted out. “No idea what this is like for me.”

“That’s why I asked,” he pointed out, as reasonably as he could manage, which admittedly wasn’t very. “Almost the first thing I asked you was how you’re handling this.”

“No, you assumed,” she emphasized the word, sneering, “that it’s been bad.”

“A reasonable assumption, you have to admit,” he retorted.

“Why, because Harahel hates Elal?”

“Alise.”

She shoved her fingers into her blue-black hair, clenching and pulling, baring her teeth in a grimace. “Oh, why did you come here?”

“I—”

“How did you even know where I was if you’ve been so isolated and incommunicado?” She demanded, interrupting him again and springing up to pace. Spinning, she pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Nic told you, didn’t she?”

“No,” he answered. “Actually—”

“Because she has no business interfering in my life! You can tell her to stop sending me couriers. Live her life. Raise Bria. Be happy. That’s what she needs to do. That’s the whole point of this…This…” She cast about the room as if the word would offer itself.

“Sacrifice?” he suggested. “Martyrdom?”

“You’re not funny,” she replied sourly.

“I was dead serious. How would you describe this?”

“A savvy career move,” she shot back, looking triumphant.

He couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing.

~ 21 ~

Alise’s face heated at Cillian’s laughter. Maybe she’d overstated the case, but he didn’t need to be so morally superior. So patient and understanding. So fucking sweet. Of course almost the first thing he asked when they could speak privately was about her wellbeing.

Has it been very bad, Alise? The bald question had nearly made her break into tears. Only reminding herself of her father’s fury—and righteous retribution in the very near future—had allowed her to regain some control. He’d never forgive her for banishing his spies, whether or not she’d been honoring house integrity by agreeing to the strict terms of Cillian’s favor redemption. The price for her giving Cillian that favor to begin with would be high indeed, and anticipating her father’s punishment made the sweat drip chill down her back.

A tremulous part of her kept expecting her father to knock down the door at any moment, but if he hadn’t by now, he wasn’t going to. No, he’d save her punishment for later, until after Cillian had gone and she was alone again. She didn’t seem to have much spine on her own. Worse, her father seemed to know that, easily bending her to his will. She’d been molded into the kind of daughter he wanted now. Sensitive to his desires and priorities, attuned to even his unspoken wishes, always just a little bit afraid. Not exactly broken, but too far distorted to be returned to her previous shape.

“I’m sorry, Alise,” Cillian gasped, recovering. “I didn’t mean to laugh. Please come and sit.”

She hadn’t been aware of standing, but she stayed on her feet, the nervous energy propelling her into agitated circles around the salon. She needed to complete and end this conversation.

“If Nic didn’t tell you, how did you know where I was?” Part of her, some romantic remnant she once would have scoffed at, imagined Cillian searching for her. Going to Convocation Academy or House Phel, hoping to find her. Well, he’s found you now, a jaded voice said in the back of her mind. And you sure aren’t rewarding him for the trouble.

Well, no, but then she was a terrible person, so no one should be surprised.

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