Lady El-Adrel led the way, her arm looped through Fyrdo’s, while Selly followed behind on Jadren’s arm. The primary difference was that Jadren rested his far hand on top of hers, where it lay on his forearm, his fingers lightly encircling her wrist in a tacit reminder of her captivity.
“I told you,” she said through her teeth, “I’m not going to run. I’m aware that there is no viable escape route.”
He chuckled as if she’d said something amusing, nodding at a black-eyed wizard who’d stepped out of their path and bowed first to Lady El-Adrel, then to Jadren. Once they’d passed out of earshot, he hissed back at her, “And you and I are both aware that your, shall we say, ‘impulses’ to flee are not always logical or well-considered ones.”
He had her there. It was just like him, too, to bring up the way the panic overtook her, overriding her good sense.
“Not that I blame you,” he continued on a dark mutter, glaring balefully at his mother’s slim back. “But running won’t save you.”
“What will?” she asked in all honesty. For the first time since before House Sammael, the Jadren beside her seemed like the one she’d known in the forest. Was this the real him—or another deception?
“Nothing,” he answered bleakly. “Endure and survive is the only advice I can give you.”
The rich food in her stomach curdled. “You’re frightening me.”
“Good,” he grunted. “You should be afraid. Focus on your breathing,” he added in a quiet voice. “Breathe from the belly. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Count five on inhale, ten on exhale. It will calm you and the calmer you can remain, the better.”
That advice was dramatically unhelpful.
“If I can aid you, I will. But I won’t be able to,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “Best to treat me like an enemy.”
“You are my enemy.”
“There you go. Trust no one but yourself.”
“If that’s what you believe, that explains a great deal about your behavior.”
He only nodded complacently. “At last she understands.”
They went down the corridor that Fyrdo had explicitly advised her to avoid. The testing labs. She didn’t want to know what that meant. She was going to find out.
To her chagrin, she found herself trying to tug away from Jadren, more than once, only the tightening circle of his fingers on her wrist keeping her from breaking away. He didn’t chide her again, only continued forward with grim determination, not letting her go. In the concentric confines of the pulsating tunnel, he said nothing more to her and Selly understood why. Everything Lady El-Adrel said to Fyrdo was clearly audible, as were his deferential replies.
It was all so surreal, so unlike any reality Selly had known, that she wondered again if she might be still insane. Perhaps none of this had occurred and she still lay in the infirmary, strapped to a bed and raving, dreaming up this endless scenario of bad to worse. “Jadren,” she whispered, “I don’t think I can do this.”
His fingers on her wrist relaxed minutely, stroking the sensitive skin over her pulse point. “We have to,” he murmured back. “Therefore we will.”
At last they entered the testing labs, which appeared to be a series of rooms, all in metal—of course—but lacking the decorations and whimsy of the rest of the manse. The rooms were all square and sterile, sporting long workbenches, overhanging hoods, and cabinets full of various kinds of equipment. Glass-enclosed spaces lined entire walls. Some of the enclosures appeared to be occupied, shadowy figures moving silently within, but Selly couldn’t quite see inside to pick out details.
Jadren squeezed her wrist, not hard, but deliberately. “Don’t look,” he advised under his breath. “You’ll regret it.”
“What’s that, Jadren-dear?” his mother asked brightly, glancing over her shoulder with a sharp smile. “Remembering your tenure here, I imagine. Now, which room was yours? I’m happy to take a moment if you’d like to revisit it. A bit of a nostalgic homecoming for you.”
Jadren had lived in one of those cages? She glanced at him, stabbed with unexpected concern. He shook his head minutely. With a sigh she allowed him to steer her away from the row of enclosures. He was probably right that she didn’t want to know.
People populated the rooms they passed through, mainly wizards wearing white jackets with familiars silently assisting them. At the sight of Lady El-Adrel, they immediately paused in their work, turning to bow and offer greetings. Some she acknowledged; most she did not. In the wake of their passage, activity resumed, with much clattering and chugging of various mechanical parts. At last they turned into a smallish room, occupied primarily by a chair canted back in the center of the room. Straps dangled from it, terrifying tools arranged on an attached tray.
Jadren gripped her wrist before she’d even thought to run. Meeting her gaze and holding it, those black eyes glimmered with a message. This one she read with no trouble. There would be no escaping this.
Not unless… She surreptitiously studied the tray of sharp instruments as Lady El-Adrel donned a white coat over her outfit. Yes. Selly needed only bide her time to seize her slim opportunity.
“The newest version of my magical-potential quantifier,” Lady El-Adrel announced with considerable pride. “The MPQ is state of the art. Far better than the one you assisted with, Jadren.”
By the sour feel of him, Jadren hadn’t been a willing assistant.
“I know. I know,” Lady El-Adrel continued airily, stroking a proprietary hand over a thing at the top that looked like a helmet. “Familiar Phel, you’re wondering how I justify trespassing on House Hanneil’s license to have the oracles used exclusively for MP testing.”
Selly hadn’t been wondering that at all. The Convocation obsession with trademarking of particular magics and devices still made no sense to her.
