Chapter 5 #2
“They’re certainly going to trouble to make it look forbidding to visitors.”
“Indeed, my lord wizard. Let’s find out why.
” She lifted a hand to the doorknocker, an iron ring piercing and dangling from a gargoyle’s mouth, but before she touched it, the door sprang open inwards, startling Gabriel enough that his magic leapt to the tips of his fingers.
Nic might enjoy teasing him, but her warnings about keeping control of his magic, which often seemed to have a mind of its own, were well-taken.
An ancient wizard stood in the doorway, wizened and with wild white hair, a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, a massive book tucked under one arm.
He peered over the tops of them with wizard-black eyes undimmed by age.
A cat darted through the doorway, leaping down the steps, followed by several stubby-legged, uncoordinated kittens.
One brindle kitten stumbled and rolled down the last two steps, recovered, and dashed off after the rest, apparently none the worse for wear.
“Someone out here?” the old wizard asked, looking straight at them and tempting Gabriel to look behind him to check.
Nic slid him a look, reminding him the burden of taking the lead rested on him.
And also that he needed to be concentrating on behaving like an arrogant high-house head, rather than watching kittens.
“Lord Gabriel Phel and familiar, Lady Veronica Phel,” he announced, making sure to sound a little irritated at not being immediately recognized, “to meet with Lady órlaith Harahel.”
“órlaith, huh?” the old wizard echoed, furrowing his brow and looking perplexed. “órlaith.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully and said nothing more.
The silence stretched on. Nic shifted restlessly, clearly wanting to step in and restraining herself. Gabriel had no idea what etiquette demanded next.
“Lady órlaith Harahel, yes,” he answered, the impatience real this time. Really, fuck Convocation etiquette. “Perhaps you should fetch someone higher up in your household,” he suggested, “who is familiar with the head of your high house and is capable of announcing visitors properly.”
Nic didn’t make a sound or move more than a subtle flexing of her fingers on his arm, but he sensed her satisfied amusement in the warming wine of her magic, flowing into him like the scent of roses on a summer afternoon.
The wizard pursed his lips, a hint of something in his black eyes that seemed to be approving. He transferred that gaze to Nic. “You’re an Elal. I recognize the smell of you. Related to that sweet little thing Cillian’s fond of, are ye?”
“My younger sister, Alise, Lord Harahel Emeritus,” Nic replied, inclining her head in respect. “We at House Phel are equally fond of Cillian. A fine Harahel wizard.”
“Saucy one, aren’t ye?” The wizard cackled, pinned Gabriel with his black gaze.
“Got your hands full with this bottle of fire.” Before Gabriel could assemble a reply, the old wizard bowed to Nic from the waist, nearly dropping his book.
“You would have made a good Lady Elal, young Veronica. Tis a pity the way the world turns at times.” He nodded sagely to himself.
Nic seemed taken aback. Again the silence grew. One kitten darted between Gabriel’s legs and into the manse. He cleared his throat. “Might we come in?” he asked. “Lady Phel is newly a mother and should not be kept standing long.”
“Ah yes,” the wizard turned and crooked an elbow at Nic, a clear invitation that she accepted, allowing him to lead her into the manse, Gabriel following behind.
“Let’s see now,” the man mused. “Seems you wanted to see órlaith. Never know where she might be. Always busy with something. Never could keep her still, except to read a book and even then half the time she’d read while pacing about. ” He chuckled to himself.
The hallway stretched before them, long, unlit, and undecorated.
Gabriel hadn’t visited many other high houses, but he’d heard plenty of Nic’s scathing opinions on how house Phel failed to meet up to those standards.
From what he’d seen of house Harahel so far, House Phel looked like a modern palace.
The wizard—Lord Harahel Emeritus, apparently, which was a title Gabriel hadn’t heard before—opened the door to a brightly lit and cozy room.
“Nic!” Iliana squealed, a blaze of bright-red hair and effervescent enthusiasm as she launched herself at them, seizing Nic in a fierce hug. “Where’s Bria? Tell me you brought my baby!”
“Lord and Lady Phel,” Han said in a pointedly formal tone, drawing Iliana gently back and nodding politely to Gabriel.
“Oh, oops.” Iliana flushed a crimson as bright as her hair.
“Apologies, Lord Phel. Lady Phel. And Uncle,” she added, with a glance at the old wizard, who flapped a hand at her and wheezed out a chuckle as he made his way to a chair perilously close to a blazing fire.
She watched him go, then turned back to Nic and hissed, “Seriously, where is my baby?”
Nic laughed and hugged her. “I’ve missed you, Iliana. My baby is home at House Phel. Her grandparents are looking after her, with help from Quinn.”
“That bitch.”
“Iliana!” Han remonstrated, but couldn’t hold back a laugh. Gabriel held out a hand and Han shook it. “I apologize for my partner, Lord and Lady Phel.”
Iliana pretended to pout. “It’s been a little much, being holed up here in this isolated place. Everyone reads all the time.”
“You’ve been working too hard,” Han added, rubbing her back.
“True. But the right amount of hard,” she enthused. “We have so much to show you about what we’ve found. I’m not sure how much Cillian told you before he left, but since then, we—”
“Wait a moment,” Gabriel interrupted her rapid-fire words, aware of Nic’s stiffening beside him. “Cillian left?”
“Hared off to rescue that sweet Elal wizardling,” the old wizard called out. “I was surprised órlaith approved it, but she’s getting soft in her old age. Probably couldn’t resist sticking one to Piers Elal either.”
“You didn’t know,” Han said with a sigh.
Gabriel exchanged concerned glances with Nic. “No, we didn’t know.”
“It was our fault,” Iliana said, sagging. “Cillian thought Alise just left him here and didn’t care.”
“Had no idea Lady Harahel sent her packing while he was asleep and wouldn’t let her say goodbye,” Han added.
“órlaith does love her little games,” the old wizard put in.
“So, when we told him she’d gone to House Elal to apprentice with her father,” Iliana continued, “he couldn’t be stopped from going after her. Very romantic.”
“Very foolish, if you ask me,” Lord Harahel Emeritus said on a cackle. “But no one asks me.”
“We love you, Uncle,” Iliana called over, then lowered her voice. “He seems eccentric, and sometimes makes no sense, but he’s really very sharp.”
“He isn’t deaf though,” the wizard observed, cackling again.
Han just shook his head.
“When did Cillian leave for Elal?” Nic asked, her magic heated to steam. Gabriel smoothed a soothing hand down her back.
Han and Iliana looked at each other. “Seven days ago?” she offered.
“Eight,” he corrected.
“Eight days ago.” Nic looked up to the ceiling, counting and also mastering her impatience.
“Didn’t Alise say they traveled here from Convocation Academy in a day and night, and Elal is past that?” Gabriel asked.
Nic shook her head. “No, I mean, yes. But they only got here so quickly because they didn’t stop and Alise used her Elal magic to amplify the air elemental. Cillian wouldn’t be able to go that fast. But he also could take a slightly more direct route. I’d said it would take three days from here.”
“Four, at least, in the carriage órlaith provided,” Lord Harahel Emeritus put in without looking up from his book. “Probably five.”
“It was a bit of an antique,” Iliana said, almost apologetically.
“So, he’ll have been there only two or three days at this point,” Gabriel told Nic, easily able to follow the direction of her greatest worry. “And we’ve been traveling since then, so we wouldn’t have gotten word.”
“Even if anyone bothered to send us word about anything,” she groused.
“Besides,” Iliana said brightly, “they probably already left again.”
“Left?” Nic echoed.
“Cillian planned to rescue Alise,” Han explained. “Take her out of that place.”
“Very romantic,” Iliana added.
“It’s not romantic in the least,” Nic snapped, verbally and emotionally, her magic billowing up like a fire doused with rose-scented lamp oil. “He’s a fucking idiot.”
“Whoa.” Han held up his hands sliding a look at Lord Harahel Emeritus, who only cackled gleefully.
“My great-grandnephew is a fucking idiot,” he agreed. “But also romantic. Both truths can exist simultaneously,” he mused in a philosophical tone.
Gabriel, who privately agreed, having engaged in his own foolish quest to find Nic and bring her home, put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him.
She looked spitting mad, and beneath that was the fear.
“Bria is safe at House Phel,” he told her firmly.
“They would have sent a courier if there were any problems.”
Tears welled in her eyes, magnifying the green. “But you and I are not there. What if Alise goes with Cillian and our father decides that abrogates the agreement?”
He shook his head. “Alise wouldn’t put Bria in peril.
If she makes a decision to leave House Elal—and we don’t know that she has, only that Cillian went there—then she’d only do so if she felt confident all would be well.
No one at House Phel will let your father get to Bria.
We prepared against this very possibility. ”
“If Alise has left House Elal, our father will be enraged. He won’t let her go easily—and he’ll want to kill Cillian for interfering. We need to help them.” Nic’s voice rose perilously to the point of hysteria.