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Nic did pickout the best inn in town, after making a few inquiries of the locals for recommendations, and—since the price was actually quite reasonable—booked their best room. She also arranged hot lunch and supper for the both of them, plus a bottle of actual Elal wine and some brandy for the evening. This inn had every magical convenience imaginable, including indoor plumbing, so they could take as many hot baths as they pleased. No doubt Gabriel would be chomping at the bit to leave first thing in the morning again, but at least they had a good half day and all night to rest.
She would let him bathe first. Between the hot water, a good meal, and a few glasses of wine, maybe he’d relax enough to get some sleep. He’d clearly been awake all night audibly pacing the barge—and he’d drained his magic down to puffs of mist. The stubborn idiot wouldn’t ask for her magical assistance, and she had no intention of throwing herself at him again. If he found using her magic so distasteful then fine, she’d keep it for herself. Never mind that she couldn’tdoanything with it.
Interestingly enough, she felt more than replenished after a night of sleep, as if giving her magic to Gabriel had increased her capacity to store it. Her teachers had mentioned that possibility, but she’d never experienced the effect. Certainly it hadn’t been true of classwork transference. Those exercises had drawn down her magic, and it had taken time to replenish, unless she used some of the Aratron potions that accelerated recovery. She’d left all of those behind with her wedding trousseau at House Elal, however. Would Papa arrange to send all of that to her once they reached Meresin, or would he withhold her things out of anger?
No sense fretting about it. Gabriel would bring her clean clothes, and once he was asleep, she’d bathe, wash her hair—again, because she was sure she caught a whiff of hunter stink from it now and then—and finally feel something like herself again. Whoever that was now.
Sitting in the window seat of the lovely room, she studied the town through the glass, telling herself she watched for hunters, but really scanning for an Iblis locksmith shop. The innkeeper had said there were several in town. She might also be scoping out the dress shops. Her guess had been good, even though she’d never been to Ophiel before. That meant there should be plenty of shops with off-the-rack Ophiel-made clothing. Who knew what they’d have in the swamps of Meresin? She’d love to assemble a wardrobe, though Vale could only carry so much. Maybe she could talk Gabriel into buying a second horse.
The hair prickled on the back of her neck, a spark of Elal wizardry shocking her alert.
A presence had entered the room—though she hadn’t heard the door open. Easing off the window seat, she slowly scanned the area, noting that the door indeed remained firmly closed. Still, someone was here. Her every instinct lit up with the certainty.
A spirit was here—a complex entity, by the feel. That meant it had to be piloted by a high-level Elal wizard. But how had it found her, and so quickly? Nic had barely been back on land an hour. Papa must have sent every wizard and sentry spirit at his command to comb the Convocation lands for her.
She should have predicted he would.
At the moment, much depended on which wizard had found her. If only she had the ability to compel the spirit to manifest. Maybe, though, she could make it think she’d identified more than a vague sense of its presence. Typically spirits weren’t all that bright, not even the complex ones. “Oh, hello,” she said, turning her shoulder to the room and edging her hip onto the window seat. “What brings you here?”
Glancing casually out the window, she scanned the street, studying the people passing by this time, looking for the wizard. Guiding a spirit in a task as involved as searching for a particular person required a fair amount of magical attention, which attenuated over distance. Unless it was someone as powerful as Lord Elal himself, the wizard almost certainly had to be in line of sight.
The spirit condensed in response to her voice, wafting closer. Still not visible, though. Hovering near. Probably just keeping an eye on her while its wizard taskmaster sent a message that they’d found her. Unless there was a Ratsiel courier convenient—highly unlikely—Nic might have time to get away. Though not enough to dally and spend the night. Wistfully, she gave up the fantasy of being clean. She should’ve had that hot bath immediately, but too late now. She’d have to change their food order to cold sandwiches for the road—oh joy—and she needed to have Vale readied to go. At least the horse was somewhat rested from hanging out on the barge.
The spirit still hadn’t made any moves, so it had to be keeping an eye on her. Hopefully Gabriel could deal with it and the wizard, neutralizing them before a message could be sent.
At the last moment before she turned away, she spotted the wizard on the corner across the street.
It was a faint flicker of Elal magic that caught her attention, unmistakable to anyone with their bloodline, even though the wizard was disguising himself—dampening his magic behind a shield and cloaking his distinctive bald head with a cowled hood. He couldn’t hide from Nic, however, as she outmatched him in sensitivity to Elal magic, even if he was a high-level wizard. The prickle of fear caressing her skin turned into a cold sweat as she identified him.
A distant cousin from another branch of the family, Jan was one of House Elal’s enforcers. And a ruthless one, too. Nic identified him, ironically enough, because she recognized Jan’s familiar, Daniel—who was leaning against a wall nearby, a cheerful smile on his round face. Daniel the spaniel, Alise had dubbed him. It had been an apt moniker, made even more so by his alternate form as a nondescript hound dog. Nic had likely used it herself in the casual cruelty of youth. Hopefully never to his face.
She hadn’t seen them in years—not since her better days, when everyone still believed she’d be a wizard and take over House Elal. Jan and Daniel were both older, more her parents’ age, and she knew them mostly from family gatherings, as they were usually posted far afield. Like in Ophiel, apparently. Either Jan had somehow tracked her—or experienced a stroke of blind luck.
The how didn’t matter in the immediate moment. Jan’s pet spirit had spotted and likely identified her. Nic needed to be gone before Jan decided he’d better detain her rather than waiting for instructions. Gabriel didn’t have the skills to battle Jan, even if he’d been at full power. They should have been practicing having Gabriel draw on her magic. Too late.
The spirit whooshed out of the room—reporting back—and Jan looked up. Right at Nic. A triumphant smile cut his face in half. She had to get out of this room before Jan trapped her in it. Nic had managed to keep reasonably calm till then, but panic claimed her with full force, billowing into an inferno like a fire elemental in a field of dry grass.
She ran to the door—not pausing to grab even her cloak—yanked it open, and careened smack into a wall of Gabriel.
“Going somewhere?” He half-smiled, half-frowned, suspicion crossing his face.
“Let me go,” she gasped, panicking, trying to push past his immovable bulk. “I have to run. Oh,please!”
He dropped his packages and caught her by the wrists. “Slow down. Hunters?”
“Worse,” she nearly sobbed, tears springing to her eyes. “My father’s wizard. An enforcer. He’s coming and I’ll never escape him.”
“Where is he?” he asked tersely.
“Probably coming up the stairs right now. Let me go, Gabriel, please!”
He moved into the room, bringing her inevitably with him and kicking the packages in with them. “It’s too late if he’s that close,” he said, all cool reason to her fluttering panic as he closed and locked the door. “Deep breaths. We’ll handle this. Are you sure he’s here after you?”
“Yes.” Nic took a breath as advised. “He sent a spirit looking for me.”
Gabriel had found the brandy and poured her a finger. He pointed at a chair by the fire. “Sit. Drink. Be Lady Veronica who has nothing to hide.”
“But—”Knock-knock-knock.She flinched at the sound, nearly spilling the brandy.
