AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Don’t think about that either.One of the tricks to a good performance was staying in character, and Nic’s role was to be the chirpy, happy princess. Besides, while her papa generally allowed his children privacy, not spying on them with his pet spirits, he wouldn’t hesitate if he suspected rebellion on the level she contemplated. “Thank you, Papa,” she said, then impulsively: “I love you.”
“I love you, kitten.” He kissed her on the forehead, then turned her to face Maman. “What do you think, precious? Isn’t our daughter perfect?”
“She is, Papa,” Maman agreed with Papa, as she always did, and always with sweet smiles and sparkling eyes. No one would guess that she was anything but utterly delighted with her place in life. It had never occurred to Nic before to question that her mother also called him “Papa,” as if she were one of his children. Now, especially understanding the will-sapping power of Fascination, it made her deeply uneasy to hear that, and she had to pretend to fuss with her skirts to hide the dimming of her smile. “The gown is perfect for a winter wedding.”
Nic twirled in a semblance of glee, spinning away her qualms, not needing to pretend to delight in the beautiful gown. Of Ophiel make, and sewn of precious imported silk, it shaded from pure white to ice blue, depending on how the light and shadows hit it. Embroidered with white and blue thread, the flowers that were Nic’s namesake twined thickly over the fitted bodice and spilled over the full skirts, lavishly sparkled with tiny crystals. “You had to have had it made already.”
Papa smiled smugly. “I knew you’d prove your trials quickly. I arranged with House Ophiel for the gown the same day you signed the Betrothal Trials contracts. They’ll be able to apply for High House status with the fortune I’ve paid them,” he added with a wink. “My surprise for you. A small part of the dowry I’m settling on you.”
The dowry. Nic had been shocked when Papa sat her down the evening before and showed her the extent of it. Somehow she hadn’t figured that Lord Phel would have counted her dowry into his gamble. He’d recover his application price twice over.
“It’s a pity,” Maman added, “that we must have such a small house wedding. A gown like that deserves to be seen in a grand ceremony with all the Convocation in attendance. I wish that Nander and Alise weren’t away at Convocation Academy, and that Nic’s friends could attend and celebrate with her.”
Papa dismissed that with a snort. “Might as well wish for midwinter to be midsummer, silly bird. Lord Phel should arrive in two days, and we’ll have the wedding the day after.”
Nic avoided looking at Maman. “I do hope the heavy snows won’t delay him.” A misplaced stab of concern for Lord Phel’s well-being—an emotion she needed to thoroughly root out—infused her words with truth.
“Eh, don’t worry about Phel,” her father said. “It would take more than a bit of weather to delay him from claiming this prize. I’m not at all surprised he’s the one. He’s a determined, virile sort.” He gazed at Nic, unseeing, seeming to reflect on some absorbing thoughts of his own.
“I do worry about the future of House Phel, however,” Maman put in, probably to distract Papa from Nic, who felt even more green at how casually Papa spoke of her impregnation and being a prize for another wizard. Maman was right in this also: Already her Papa had begun to change how he treated Nic. “What if Lord Phel can’t restore his house status with the Convocation?”
Papa shrugged that off, sitting behind his big desk and moving some documents around, pausing to read one. “Every wizard faces challenges, precious,” he said absently. “Phel will prove himself to the Convocation or he won’t. If he succeeds in restoring House Phel, we’ll have gained a permanent ally. Phel won’t forget what he owes me.”
“But if he fails, our Nic will suffer with him.”
Papa raised his head from the document, staring at Maman as if he’d never seen her before, then transferring the uncomfortable gaze on Nic. Was he considering her possible dire fate? “That’s a familiar’s role in life, to support their wizard, in success and in failure. Our Nic has already tied her fate to Phel. The wedding is simply a formality of a sacred bond already forged between them. Else she wouldn’t have conceived. That’s the natural order of things. You understand that, don’t you, kitten?”
“Yes, Papa,” she replied demurely, folding her hands so she wouldn’t fiddle with the priceless silk. This would be the only time she’d wear this gown, if all went according to plan. She shouldn’t feel bad about that, especially with all else she’d be giving up, but it seemed a crime that such a painstakingly crafted work of art would lie unused.
“I hope you wouldn’t have abandoned me, precious, had I proved less successful,” Papa said, pinning Maman with a questioning look, a hint of anger in it. He held out an imperious hand. “You promised to love me and support me in all things, no matter how fate treated us.”
“Oh, Papa,” Maman said, immediately rising and going to him. “Never imagine such a thing!” She gave him her hand, and he gripped it firmly. “Have I ever denied you any part of myself?”
“No.” He smiled at her, black wizard eyes unblinking on her face, his magic intensifying so that some of his bound spirits manifested to Nic’s eye, straining at their leashes, eager to obey his will. “You’ve never denied me, not even to spare yourself. And I’m grateful. So why the doubts about our Nic?”
“Not doubts, no,” she hastened to assure him. “I’m just emotional.”
“Is that all?” He didn’t stand or change his grip, but something changed between them. Maman seemed to wilt, slowly sinking to her knees, continuing to crumple until her forehead touched the expensive rug, until the only part of her not on the floor was her hand in his. A spirit flitted over and through Maman, and Papa frowned. “You are in a turmoil, precious.”
“I know,” Maman said, her voice muffled. “It’s so hard to let her go, not to worry about her.”
“Look at me, precious,” he commanded, and Maman raised her head. Tears wet her ravaged face, making Nic deeply uncomfortable at witnessing something she should not. Despite the weeping, Maman smiled at him, radiant in her love and trust.
“Let her go we must,” he said, very seriously, but not unkindly. “You’ve raised an elegant, well-mannered young woman who will make Lord Phel a fine wife. With the magic she inherited from me, she’ll make him a powerful familiar.”
“So true,” Maman said. “Lord Phel could not have done better.”
Neither of them seemed to remember that Nic was in the room. She held herself very still, riveted—and yet wishing she could flee unnoticed. Though Papa reprimanded Maman sometimes in front of them, and occasionally borrowed her power for spontaneous workings, intimate interactions like this occurred in his arcanium, where no one else was allowed. Suddenly it occurred to Nic that this little scene was no accident, that Papa wanted her to observe. And learn from it. Learn what, though—obedience to her wizard master?
“Our daughter is getting married, precious,” Papa said, voice thick with emotion. “The years have gone by so fast.”
“Faster all the time,” she murmured.
“We’ve given her everything,” he said reflectively, still holding Maman’s hand and stroking his thumb over the back of it. “If Nic meets with a bit of privation and struggle, well, that builds character. It will be incentive for you, kitten,” he said, turning his head to pin Nic with glittering black eyes. No, he definitely hadn’t forgotten her presence. “You must strengthen your own power and abilities, to aid Lord Phel in his climb. Remember that now you will grow and succeed through him. That is a familiar’s nature, role in the world, and greatest source of joy.”
“Yes, Papa,” Nic said, sticking with safe acquiescence.
“All right.” He dropped Maman’s hand and waved them both off. “I’ve bored the two of you long enough with the philosophy of wizards, familiars, and life. You ladies have a wedding to plan, so go have fun doing that.”
