“How are you alive?” Gabriel asked wonderingly, not quite believing his eyes. Nic came up beside him, her magic similarly besieged.
Jadren flicked him a feeble grin. “Can I pause the questions and say it’s a long story? I’ll tell, but we really need to get out of here and I’d be obliged if you’d take me with you, sans stake through the heart, if it’s all the same.”
“Gabriel,” Nic said, prompting him.
“Ah. Allow me.” Edging Selly gently aside, Gabriel grasped the sword, firming his grip. “I’ve never withdrawn my weapon upon request from a man I tried to kill.”
“Funny,” Jadren commented drily, gaze flicking to Selly, “it’s been happening to me a lot lately. Must run in the family.”
“This will hurt,” Gabriel warned him, then felt foolish. What could hurt worse than having a sword cleaving your heart?
Jadren sighed philosophically. “You have no idea.”
Jadren passed out cold, something that distressed Selly to a bewildering extent, and further confused Gabriel. She kept saying he couldn’t draw on her magic to heal, which made no sense, as Jadren wasn’t a healer and healing magic didn’t work on the wizard practicing it anyway. Nic, however, gave him a stern warning look, so he didn’t argue with his distraught sister. Instead, as instructed, he hefted Jadren’s wiry form over his shoulders and started walking.
Nic and Selly followed behind, keeping up with his brisk pace, and Selly calmed enough to tell the whole story. Though they were braced for pursuit, no one came after them. Somehow Jadren’s father had managed to disguise their escape and buy Jadren and Selly enough time to get cleanly away. Gabriel had no idea how the man could have done it. He remembered Fyrdo from when he and Lady El-Adrel brought Jadren to House Phel. An older, more genial version of Jadren, he hadn’t seemed like the heroic sort. But he’d also embraced his son with real affection, Gabriel recalled, something that seemed to be a rarity in the Convocation.
Gabriel understood that much of being a father—he already loved the unborn child Nic carried with an intensity he’d never before experienced. The part he didn’t understand was how Fyrdo had apparently stood by all those years while his son was repeatedly tortured. He couldn’t imagine it without feeling ill, so he set it aside. Along with what Jadren had said to Gabriel when they both thought he was dying.
What mattered was getting Selly—and Jadren—safely across the border to House Refoel lands. It would be a long walk.
Alise, Han, Iliana, and Asa met them at the border with horses and a brand-new elemental powered carriage. That they were there at the precise location didn’t surprise him. Alise had sent a small spirit scout to ascertain their path and progress to the border crossing. Being a house dedicated to healing, Refoel didn’t guard their borders and Nic said that Alise’s Elal magic could handle any defensive gadgets El-Adrel might’ve buried on their side. The carriage, however, was a surprise, and Nic met his questioning gaze defiantly.
“I ordered one from a nearby depot and Alise picked it up on the way. I know you didn’t want anything from House Elal, but we need this. If you’re going to be stubborn about it, Alise can swap out her own elemental for the bottled one it came with, but Selly and Jadren are riding from here.”
“I wasn’t going to argue,” he replied mildly, grateful that Han and Asa possessed the strength to lift Jadren carefully from his shoulders, carrying the wizard gently to the carriage. Iliana and Selly followed behind, arms around each other, Selly’s dark head inclined against Iliana’s bright one. Asa was already stabilizing Jadren with his own native healing magic, while Han and Iliana stood ready to bolster him with theirs. Stiff, tired, and grateful to be relieved of the physical burden of Jadren, along with the temporary reprieve of passing the responsibility for saving the man to Asa—the rest of the guilt would likely never disperse—Gabriel rolled his shoulders. Not quite ready to address the gulf between Nic and him, he chose the lesser battle. “Was it expensive, the carriage?”
She huffed out an annoyed breath. “Double wholesale value. It nearly broke my mercenary heart to pay that price. I may have shed a tear.” She eyed him in return. “You’re worn out.”
“As are you.” He was very aware of how much she’d given to the flight and the subsequent walk out of El-Adrel lands. They were incredibly lucky House El-Adrel lay so near the Refoel border. Neither of them could have gone much longer. Bracing himself, he decided he might as well brave her anger. “How much do you hate me?”
“Oh, Gabriel.” She smiled at him, though it lacked her usual vividness. “I could never hate you.” She came to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her cheek against his chest over his heart. He folded his arms around her gratefully, holding her tenderly, bathing in the rose-infused heated wine of her magic, as always offered so generously. “One could hardly fault you for your assumptions or actions. Jadren did unlawfully bond a familiar of your house. Convocation law is on your side, even if he had died.”
“I’m not comforted in the least to be finally on the right side of Convocation law,” he replied drily. But that, too, could be set aside for another day. “Why do you suppose he isn’t dead?” Selly had been vague on that score, including why she’d been so convinced the sword hadn’t killed Jadren.
“I suspect that whatever the reason is, that’s why he never attended Convocation Academy or released his MP scores.” She tipped back her head to look at him. “There are tales of hopeful monsters arising at times.”
“Hopeful monsters?” he repeated, bemused by the odd phrase.
“New variations in magic types and wielders,” she supplied. “Non-standard or never-before-cataloged magic potentials. Sometimes the people born with those don’t survive childhood or they go insane from the magic, unable to turn it in a productive direction. Others live normal lives, but essentially as magical duds. Hard to say which is worse.”
“I think one is clearly worse than the other.”
“You would. Still, the other possibility is that the new variant leads to the person being a powerful wizard. Or familiar,” she added hastily, anticipating his correction. “They might be a monster, but they win that particular lottery and become something never before seen. If Jadren is able to magically heal himself to the point that he cannot die…” She trailed off meaningfully.
It gave Gabriel a headache to contemplate. “Quite the weapon, then, for House El-Adrel, is what you’re saying. I’m surprised they risked inserting him in House Phel in the first place, if he’s so valuable.”
Nic shrugged a little, raising her brows. “What risk? He can’t be killed.”
“Lord Phel?” Asa called. He stood in the carriage doorway, dark face serious. “Wizard Jadren is stable enough for travel. I’d like to get him back to the House Phel infirmary as quickly as possible.”
“Go,” Gabriel told him. “Nic and I will follow on the horses. Do you mind?” he asked Nic belatedly. “If you’re too tired to ride, you could go in the carriage with them.”
She slipped her hand into his, interlacing her delicately boned fingers and robust magic with his. “My place is with my wizard,” she answered firmly, waving as Alise instructed the air elemental to return to House Phel and the carriage sped off. “I imagine you want to debate what to do about the bonding.”
He sighed in agreement, leading her to Salve to give Nic a boost into the mare’s saddle. “Selly seems bizarrely emotionally attached to him, especially in so short a time. Is it the Fascination?”
Nic settled herself into the saddle, taking up the reins, watching him with a thoughtful gaze as he mounted Vale. “I don’t think there’s any way of knowing. Is the Fascination real? If so, is it only induced by the Aratron potion my father devised and abused? Did House El-Adrel have access to that potion to administer it to Selly?” She shrugged. “It could be she truly cares about him.”
