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She’d gone breathless, her mouth dry. His touch sent shivers through her, the fire leaping to flush her skin. “It’s not your fault that I ran.”
“Isn’t it?” His expression darkened again. “I can sense that you’re afraid of me.”
She should’ve expected that. “Not because of anything you did,” she offered tentatively.
“Then it’s something about who I am,” he suggested, black gaze searching her face. “Or would you have tried to escape whichever wizard succeeded?”
He was getting too close to the truth, so she stepped out of reach, and he let her go. She tried to tell herself she wasn’t disappointed about that, staring out of the porthole blindly, the sea gray with misting rain, the horizon blurring seamlessly into the sky. “What did you mean, that you saw how Papa silenced Maman?”
Rustling behind her indicated he’d sat on a bench, weariness and pain in the grunt he let out. Nic had to remind herself he was still convalescing. Inytta had pronounced Gabriel miraculously recovered, enough so that Nic figured he had some healing magic in him. She’d already suspected as much, as her stitches wouldn’t have held him as well as they did if his natural abilities hadn’t stepped into the gap. The night before, Inytta had barely contained her incredulity at the sight of Nic’s sewing job, advising Nic to leave stitches in flesh to the professionals in the future.
Gabriel, relieved to get out of bed, had been chomping at the bit to be gone from Wartson, though he thought the one pack of hunters had been all there was. Nic had found no excuse to delay. Dragging her feet wouldn’t change her fate.
“When I came for you, at House Elal,” he said, and his voice had a different edge to it. She turned, leaning her back against the rough planks, giving him her attention. He rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully, a sign he was agitated, then sat forward, leaning forearms on his knees and lacing his fingers together. “Your lady mother was upset about your disappearance, understandably so, and Lord Elal told her to be quiet. When she didn’t immediately obey, he… Well, he made it sound like a suggestion, that she ‘take her alternate form.’ She became agitated, saying she wanted to be able to speak.” He flicked his gaze up at Nic in wry acknowledgment. “And she turned into a cat. I think he made her do it?”
The man really knew so little of their ways. It had to be deliberate sabotage by the Convocation, keeping him as ignorant as possible. They’d granted his application to restore House Phel, had adhered to the letter of the law about approving what he knew to ask for, but they truly didn’t want him to succeed. More important, it became abundantly clear why Nic’s contact in Port Anatole had never materialized. Had Maman been forced to remain as a cat all this time? Nic’s stomach clenched at the thought. And all for naught.
“Did I upset you?” Gabriel frowned at her.
“No.” She shook her head, then tried to shrug off the chill sickness. “I mean, I’m surprised they let you witness that little scene. It’s usually more… private than that.” Her poor maman. Nic went to sit on another bench, putting her back against the wall and drawing up her knees. “He did force her change. That’s what wizards do. Familiars can’t take our alternate forms on our own; a wizard must trigger the magic for us.”
He considered that, seeming deeply unsettled, an odd expression on his face. “What is your alternate form?”
“I don’t know, do I?” she replied evenly, trying to keep the sting out of it. “We’ll find out when you trigger the change in me.”
“Me?” More than unsettled—aghast, even horrified.
“You’re my wizard now,” she explained, feeling strangely gentle with him. “Once you bond me, you’ll be able to trigger my alternate form. It is one of the positive incentives for a familiar to bond with a wizard.”
“Then you… want to take an animal form?”
Nic wriggled to scratch her back against the planks. “For the most part, yes.” She’d like to be able to fly, though there was no guarantee that her alternate form would have wings. It was a nice dream, much as Nic had grown wary of hoping for too much. Being trapped in a body without thumbs or words, or even much capacity for thought, though…
Gabriel watched her, looking like he wanted to say something, but he shook his head. Instead, he gestured at her wriggling. “Does your back itch?”
“Yes. The bath last night was nice, but I miss my oils. I’m a pampered daughter of a High House, if you’ll recall.”
“Let me scratch it for you.” He turned to straddle the bench, patting the space in front of him.
She thought about refusing. She didn’t want him to touch her again—and she wanted it too much. Something in the earnestness of his gaze and the sincerity of the offer also made her think he’d take it badly if she was that petty. Besides, her back did itch fiercely. She scooted over and sat in front of him, moving her long braid out of the way. He began with long, smooth scratching over her clothes, quickly zeroing in on the itchiest spots as she wriggled in pleasure.
“Would you be a cat, like your mother?” he asked, his voice a little gruff, though she wasn’t sure what that indicated.
“Not necessarily. The animal forms are more individual than that. They don’t follow family patterns.”
“Can you change back to human form on your own?”
“No, sir,” she replied cheerfully. “That’s one of the ways a wizard controls their familiar. Our bonded wizards can keep us in alternate form for extended periods. It’s a useful incentive to ensure good behavior.” The explanation, learned by rote at Convocation Academy, came easily to her lips, so she was able to conceal how that aspect of wizard–familiar bonding horrified her.
“For how long?” he whispered, his voice holding the revulsion she hadn’t expressed.
“Some wizards prefer to keep their familiars in their alternate form all the time unless they need them for magic work. That is one thing that saves us from being permanently kept as animals by those types—the wizard can’t draw on our magic at all if we’re in alternate form. They need us human for that.”
“Why would you bond with a wizard at all if they can do that to you?” He was nearly growling now, his anger silver bright around them.
His scratching had slowed, so she turned to look over her shoulder at him. “Because we don’t have many other viable options.”
He regarded her gravely. “Except trying to escape.”
