“I don’t understood you, either.”
That got a chuckle, if a humorless one. “Oh, poppet, you have no idea.”
Perhaps not, but she would, she’d make sure of it.
A dozen guards in formal House El-Adrel uniforms arrived to escort them. She wore only a simple gown—no lingerie this time—also black, a match of Jadren’s outfit with the El-Adrel lightning bolts zig-zagging down the sleeves and down to the trailing hem. Long slits up the sides revealed her legs to the thigh as she walked. Straps tied at the shoulders, the front dipping low, revealing what little cleavage she boasted, and even lower in back, with the gown open to the waist, as if showcasing the long fall of hair she’d be losing. She didn’t mind that part as much as Jadren seemed to. Hair was hair and it would grow back. That was the least permanent piece of what she faced.
Would she be able to make herself kneel?
Better than being forced to kneel, part of her acerbically noted.
Or is it? she retorted.
None of her inner voices had an answer to that. Jadren walked by her side, hand resting on her lower back, hot against her skin bared by the gown. Every now and then his fingers lightly caught the trailing ends of one curl or another. He wore that icy mask, revealing nothing, but his magic squeaked against her, buzzing with agitation.
“Are the guards to stop me from bolting,” she asked under her breath, “or you?”
He glanced over at her, a hint of a smile softening his harshly blank expression. “Both.”
And then they entered a round atrium. Another glass window domed the top of the room, allowing in spring sunlight so much brighter than the glow shed by the fire elementals in their lamps that she squinted from the change. So wrong that natural sunlight already made her flinch. “Why are there only skylights and no windows in the walls?” she whispered to Jadren.
His soft fingertips scratched lightly along the valley of her spine. “The house moves. Seeing the landscape outside disorients the inhabitants. No more questions. Seen, not heard.”
She clamped her lips closed, not out of obedience so much as being mindful of his warning. Lady El-Adrel stood on the far side of the circular room, presiding over it all with coolly regal poise, her glittering black gaze resting with expectation on Selly. Around her, fanning out like the wings of a great bird, wizards in black robes with shining lightning bolts stood in rows. They filled the half circle of that side of the room, then slid in behind Selly and Jadren as the pair of them entered, the guards remaining outside as they closed the doors. The circle of wizards filled in, silent and smooth, putting Selly in mind of the sliding doors on the oiled rails of the laboratory.
There were no other familiars in the room, not even Jadren’s father, and the encircling wall of black eyes focused on her made her feel small and easily devoured. As if sensing her unease, Jadren flattened his hand on the small of her back, urging her forward, tacitly reminding her there would be no escape. Not yet, not for either of them.
He stopped at the center of room and Selly, unable to face all those blackly predatory gazes, cast her eyes down. The floor had been tiled in concentric circles, all in glittering metallic shades that reflected the light overhead. They formed patterns of zigs and zags, like the omnipresent lightning bolts of El-Adrel. The dizzying pattern seemed almost to move, the various levels of circles gliding in reverse or tandem, the effect disconcerting. Then, as she watched, one circle did move—spinning and then flipping its tiles in a cascading ripple, turning over a new side with silver arrowheads on them. Jadren eyed it, snorting humorlessly, and she wondered if the house could possibly have chosen that image and color on purpose. But why?
She and Jadren halted on the center circle, a burnished platinum mirror that reflected the sun overhead, just now moving into the circular center window above. Blinding. And yet better than facing all those wizards looking like carrion crows waiting to devour her still-twitching corpse.
“So, son of mine,” Lady El-Adrel crooned in a smooth voice. “Do you still wish to bond this familiar?”
“I do, Maman,” Jadren replied firmly, lightly caressing Selly’s back under her hair.
“Her fertility has not been established,” she replied doubtfully, “nor your compatibility in producing magically gifted progeny for the further glory of House El-Adrel.”
“True, but I have proven my own fertility countless times, with more contributions to that glory than even I know,” he said in tightly restrained voice.
Selly looked up at that, taking in Jadren’s coldly still profile. Did that mean what she thought it meant? Jadren had sired children, many he didn’t know about. That seemed bizarre, if not impossible, and yet—Jadren pinched the skin on her back, not painfully, but enough to remind her to be silent. She jerked her attention back to Lady El-Adrel who was observing her with cold interest. “You will, of course, give me first dibs on any children you produce between you.”
Selly gasped. “What?” she burst out. “Never! I—”
“You’ll be given an option,” Jadren interrupted, wrapping fingers around her hair and yanking sharply. “I’ll see to it, Maman.”
She nodded, gaze still on Selly. “If you’re able to control this one.”
“I can,” he replied with easy assurance, turning his attention to Selly. He continued to wind her hair around his hand, inexorably reeling her head back so that she arched in response. Bracketing her throat with his other hand, he caressed her skin, setting his thumb and fingertips on her pulse points. A reminder of his promise and hers.
She hoped she wasn’t wrong to trust him.
“Kneel for me, familiar,” he ordered softly, an answering tremor from him as she trembled. His magic tick-tocked against hers, steady, even soothing. If you don’t comply, I’ll have to force you, to the point of wrapping you in chains. Maman’s chains are particularly evil. I’m begging you not to put us both through that.
She thought her knees might not obey, but they flexed, lowering her slightly, and Jadren subtly adjusted his grip to support her as sank. Jadren held her gaze, face still controlled to show little of his internal thoughts, but eyes gave a window into a softer place. In another person she’d call it compassion. She wasn’t sure Jadren was capable of the empathy required to feel real compassion, but he did seem to understand her better than almost anyone else. At least, he anticipated when her control would break, when she wouldn’t be able to withstand a moment more.
Lady El-Adrel snorted softly. “Is this the same feral creature? I can hardly credit it.”
Jadren still held Selly’s hair wrapped around his fist, but he released her throat, caressing her cheek lightly, holding her gaze with steadying calm. “You’re doing well,” he said so quietly only she could hear. “Ignore them. This is only us.”
