Not really. Not at all. Jadren shuddered at the thought. But it would be good not to have to continue this slog. Maybe he needed a less drastic metaphor.
“I may be a half-feral swamp creature,” Selly said, “but even I can tell we’re not in Convocation Center.”
“The principle remains intact. It’s unwise to antagonize a wizard.”
Absurdly, she brightened. “Why, what would you do?”
He threw her flabbergasted look. Did nothing frighten the chit? “This is the first thing you ask?”
“I know so little about wizardry.” She widened her eyes, miming the sweet puppy she absolutely wasn’t. “Gabriel ripped the roof off the tower to free Nic. Can you do that?”
“No one should be able to do that,” he muttered. He still wasn’t sure how Phel had accomplished that startling feat of long-distance magic. Who knew moon magic could be shaped into silver in the first place, much less shaped into sky hooks that could affect physical objects from across a valley? At least Phel was safe from Jadren reporting that feat to his maman, as she’d never believe it. No, Lady El-Adrel would immediately suspect Jadren of embellishing or, worse, outright lying, and would punish him accordingly. Of course, he wouldn’t be reporting anything, ever again, if they perished out in the swamps of Meresin. An oddly cheering thought.
“Oh! Could you change me into a toad, or worse?” She bounced with all the gleeful horror of the child she wanted to leave behind.
“No,” he answered forbiddingly. “That’s only in stories.”
“I saw Gabriel change Nic into a giant silver phoenix,” Selly countered, “so that’s obviously not just in stories.”
“That’s different.”
“How?” she demanded, full of scorn.
He sighed with exasperation. “If you’d had a proper Convocation Academy education, you would know these things.”
She snorted inelegantly. “If wishes were horsies, you wouldn’t be sore-footed and tromping back to House Phel with me.”
She had a point, though he wasn’t at all sure how his life had gotten so fucked that he’d ended up explaining the basics of magic to a rogue familiar who shouldn’t even exist. Oh wait—yes, he did. It was all due to his sadistic maman. “Fine, here is your ad hoc course on Wizard–Familiar Dynamics.”
“Is that what they call it at Convocation Academy?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know, if you didn’t attend?”
He rolled his eyes to the uncaring sky as if it might rain patience. It did not. “Because I’m not ignorant.”
“But if you didn’t attend Convocation Academy, where did you learn this stuff?”
He wagged a finger at her. “Not relevant, poppet. No more peppering me with annoying questions if you want to learn. Less talking; more listening.”
“One last thing?”
She sounded so meek and contrite that he let out a sigh and nodded. “One.”
“I know you said poppet isn’t puppet, but I still don’t like you calling me that.”
Not what he’d expected her to say. He also didn’t expect to feel vaguely remorseful. “Fair enough.” He waved it off along with the useless guilt. “Are all pet names off the table?” he added snidely. Not losing his touch at all.
“Since, I’m not a pet: yes.”
Making a scoffing sound, he threw her a look. “Literal little thing, aren’t you? Don’t answer that. I suppose you want me to stick with Selly.”
“Actually.” She hesitated, uncharacteristically hesitant. “I’d prefer Seliah.” When he raised a brow, having not expected that reply, she hurried on. “When I… I first started to lose track of time and myself, I was still a girl and everyone called me Selly and it was fine. It never occurred to me to mind it, in those days. And then—just recently, obviously—my mind cleared for the first time in a decade and I’d become a woman. But everyone still talks to me like I’m a child and they call me by my childhood nickname like nothing has changed when everything has changed! And I…” She ground to a ragged halt. “I know it’s silly, and I’m obviously emotional about this and overreacting, but…” She waved her hand at him as if he’d said something biting. “Never mind.”
“It’s not silly.” Better than anyone, he understood being treated forever like the child he’d long-since stopped being. Feeling like he should say something nice to her—not an urge he was accustomed to experiencing—he blurted, “Seliah is a lovely name.”
Her smile was wobbly, but her lushly fringed amber eyes held a tentative light. “I think so, too,” she replied quietly. Then she pressed her lips together, miming locking them with an invisible key she tossed over her shoulder, the amber lights dancing with mischief, belying the attentively scholarly expression she attempted to assume. It made her look girlish again and he was struck with an image of her as a restless and difficult student, gazing longingly out the schoolroom window at the outdoors she loved so much, ignoring whatever tutor they’d saddled her with.
