“But you won’t be able to bond another familiar while she lives.”
“I don’t want to,” Jadren assured him. “Believe me, it’s really better for everyone if I don’t have access to that level of power.”
Bemused, Phel studied him. “I have been repeatedly told that all Convocation wizards crave as much power as they can possibly get.”
“Not me,” Jadren said, too quickly. “All I want is a place where I can be alone, where no one will bother me.” Like a cave in the mountains. No, too cold. Maybe the desert. Definitely not a swamp which Seliah could navigate with her preternatural abilities and find him.
“After what you’ve apparently endured all your life,” Phel said slowly, “I can’t blame you for wanting to be left alone.”
“Save your pity, Phel.”
“Fair enough.” He considered. “What about what you said about true love making fools of us all?”
“You can’t trust what a man says when his heart is being carved out of his chest.”
Gabriel blinked at him. “Figuratively or literally?”
Jadren only laughed. Both, he didn’t say aloud.
“If you truly love Selly,” Phel began, “then—”
“She prefers to be called ‘Seliah,’ you know,” Jadren said, interrupting before that could go too far down a painful path.
Phel paused, frowning. “What?”
“‘Selly’ is her childhood nickname,” Jadren explained. “She prefers ‘Seliah’ now. You should respect that.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Well, now you do.” Jadren twitched restlessly, ready to be out of the bed, the house, and Seliah’s life. “So, are we agreed? I disappear, you let me go, and we’re done with each other.”
“What will you tell Selly—Seliah?” Gabriel asked, correcting himself. “Regardless of all else, she won’t be happy about this. She’ll want to go with you, most likely.”
“I’ll handle the disappearing part. You handle keeping her from thinking she needs to look for me.”
Gabriel considered. “I’m thinking Nic would say this is a terrible idea.”
Once, Jadren would have made a cutting remark about listening to what familiars thought. Now he only regarded Phel with somber urgency. “You and I both understand that I’m no good for Seliah. Let me do this one thing for her.”
“All right.” Gravely, Gabriel held out a hand. Though it wasn’t a Convocation custom, Jadren made a concession for Phel’s country manners and shook it.
“Deal.” Jadren rubbed away the magical residue from Lord Phel, the moon and water sensation too reminiscent of Seliah. He hesitated. “I don’t have to ask you to take care of her.”
Gabriel Phel raised one dark brow. “If you’re leaving, what does it matter to you?”
“It doesn’t,” Jadren answered hastily, hearing the lie in his own words. “She’s a good person. Too innocent and sensitive still. She thinks she’s tough, and she is in some ways, but she needs to be protected from her own worst impulses.”
Phel nodded, expression neutral. “I suppose you need supplies.”
“That would be good,” Jadren admitted. “And, ah… could I keep the machete?”
“Seems I recall you won it fair and square.”
“The reverse,” Jadren corrected. “I lost and you gave it to me anyway.”
“Ah well.” Gabriel grinned, clapped his hands to his knees and stood. “Keep it. Use it well.” He put the chair back where it had been, one of the many small tells that showed he wasn’t the arrogant high-house lord he pretended to be. Jadren liked him all the better for it, not that he’d ever tell the wizard that. “Also, Wizard Jadren…” Phel paused, hand on the back of the chair, studying him with an opaque expression. “You have a place in House Phel, should you ever want it.”
If Jadren hadn’t been lying down, he’d have staggered. He had no words, opening and closing his mouth over nothing, several times in a row. “What’s the catch?” he finally managed.
