Page 42 of Strange Familiar

“It’s a long story,” Cillian answered, patting the settee invitingly. “And telling you about it is part of why I’m here.”

“I’d rather stand.” She moved restlessly to the window.

“And pace.”

“Yes.”

He sighed. Cillian had a range of expressive sighs, all evocative of various shades of disappointment in her. “Han and Iliana told me.”

She paused mid-step. Not at all what she expected. “I don’t understand. You went to House Phel?”

“No,” he replied gravely, holding her gaze. “They came to House Harahel.”

She was sorry she wasn’t sitting, feeling suddenly wobbly, the sense of the world having rushed onward while she was sequestered here making her dizzy. Probably she shouldn’t have drunk so much wine. “I don’t understand.”

As the words came out, she realized she’d repeated herself. Dark arts she was a mess. She both fervently wished Cillian would leave already—or, ideally, that he’d never come—and wanted to throw herself into his embrace and beg him to make everything better. Except there was no better. This was as good as she could have, which was why she’d been making the best of it.

“Then let me explain,” Cillian said gently, as if intuiting her inner turmoil. Probably he did. He told her about the bargain he’d made with his grandmother once he recovered from the impact of the magic debt—which made her realize she’d been so busy being angry and ashamed that she hadn’t asked about his health or anything about what he’d been doing. Which had been single-mindedly working on unlocking the folded archive. For her.

By the time Cillian finished telling her about the code embedded in the archived texts, the earth-shattering implications of the research of the ancient Phel scientist, Alise had relented, returning to curl up on the settee—though still a cautious distance from Cillian. She had no idea where they could go from here, except that it seemed blatantly clear that they couldn’t go back to how things had been. It might be best to allow the break between them to stand, perhaps bridged with a distantly formal acquaintanceship. Nothing more.

“I brought this to show you,” he said, the light of enthusiasm shining from him as he dug in his satchel. At times like this, when he talked books and libraries and linguistics, his magic looked to her like sunlight dappling through shadows, illuminating odd nooks, glancing over dust motes so it seemed to make them dance. It hit her hard and painfully how very much she loved him. Numb from the realization, she reviewed the ancient committee meeting minutes and listened with dawning understanding to the shocking information contained within. Of course, only a secret as Convocation-shattering would embolden so many houses to conspire, to move against House Phel in such a thorough, dedicated, and far reaching plan.

Her mind racing, her stomach tight, she accepted the various booklets from Cillian’s hands, pretending to look at them while he excitedly explained how the code probably worked and how they’d determined there was one and what Han and Iliana were doing next to decipher it.

After a while, she found herself simply studying his face as he bent over the materials he’d brought, his long, sensitive fingers pointing out particular elements, watching his lips move and hearing nothing. She’d been such a blithering idiot. Somehow, in Cillian’s grounding, rational presence, her world shifted and resettled into new patterns. The picture that emerged as if seen from his perspective only shamed her further.

She’d been pretending to herself that she was going along with her father, lulling him into complacency, and planning some vague vengeance when all the while he’d been playing her, softening her with praise and gifts and luring her into being exactly what she’d always feared most, what she’d promised herself she would never become: just like him.

“Alise?” Cillian set a hand on her cheek, a fleeting touch that only made her crave more. And more is what she couldn’t have.

“This is an amazing discovery,” she said, trying to sound excited. And it was amazing and she was excited. So why did she feel like her heart was breaking? “Have you told Gabriel and Nic yet?”

“No.” Cillian frowned a little, seeming puzzled. “I wanted to tell you first. This was your project. I knew you’d want to be in on next steps.”

And there was the rub. She couldn’t be “in” on anything but her commitment to House Elal. She wasn’t a prisoner, exactly, that much of what she’d told Cillian had been true, but neither was she free. And they both knew where Elal stood in this conspiracy to suppress such dangerous information. She was suddenly, fiercely glad Cillian had asked her to banish the spirit spies. The moment her father knew about what they’d found, he’d explode. He’d kill Cillian—a small transgression compared to the violence to come—and possibly her as well. She should be so lucky.

“What are the next steps, do you think?” she asked, rather hoping he wouldn’t notice that she’d sidestepped his assumption on her involvement.

“We need to take this evidence to the Convocation. We have proof here of grounds for the original conspiracy against House Phel and the ongoing targeting of the house and you.”

Alise didn’t think they did, but she nodded with enthusiasm. “I think you should take this to House Phel and find out how Nic and Gabriel want to proceed.”

“I know that’s your first impulse and not a wrong-headed one, but I think it’s time to escalate. Provost Uriel told me to bring her evidence and I’ve got it. House Uriel is our best bet for—” He paused, his ears catching up to his thoughts. “I should take it? You mean we.”

And there they were. “No, I mean you. I can’t leave here.”

His frown crystallized. “You said you’re not a prisoner.”

“Maybe I should say I won’t leave. I am the House Elal heir now. My father is teaching me everything. I have access to the House Elal arcanium. Working in it is… extraordinary.”

“And you’re auditioning familiars,” he noted darkly. “Are you seriously considering Wim, Bim, Tim, Gim, and Zim?”

The names rang a bell. It came to her. “From the Five Idiot Brothers of Nod?” she asked incredulously.

Looking vaguely embarrassed, he waved that off.

“It’s unlike you to be cruel, Cillian,” she said softly, “especially to those less fortunate than you.”

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