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“I guess I thought people were exaggerating,” she supplied weakly. How did they build here? Maybe she should’ve given more credence to Gabriel’s warning remarks about the state of House Phel itself. “Do you live on boats?”Please not a barge…
He laughed. “Not exactly. But you’ll see. We’ll be at the house before much longer.”
Hedidlive in a swamp. Nic eyed the occasional glimpses of water, no longer finding the lush foliage so lovely now that she knew there wasn’t any solid ground. Some ratlike creatureswamthrough a set of reeds nearby, and a sense of vertigo swept her, even though the trail they rode remained stable.
“Besides,” Gabriel continued, “to say ‘swamp’ is a misnomer. This is technically a marsh.”
“Charming.” She studied the raised path, finding she felt steadier keeping her eyes on it. “The road is magically kept dry?” If so, maybe there was hope for dry ground in her future.
He shook his head. “No, just physically built up. Though water magic does occur at low levels among much of the population of Meresin, and people use it to wick away moisture, to keep their homes dry.”
Interesting. “Has anyone been keeping track of the Phel family tree over the last few generations?”
“You mean anyone besides Elal spies?” he asked blandly.
A flush heated her cheeks as she recalled the extensive dossier on Gabriel’s parentage and the various branches of the family. A sudden thought occurred to her along with that. “Gabriel, do your parents live at House Phel?”
He lifted a brow. “Yes, why?”
Shit.“What about extended family—cousins and so forth?”
“All at House Phel,” he confirmed. “Or nearby. That’s traditional, isn’t it? Where else would they be?”
“I don’t know, on farms. Didn’t you say you grew up farming? How do you farm in a swamp, or marsh, or whatever?”
“Why are you upset all of a sudden?” He frowned at her.
Because she hadn’t mentally prepared to meet his family. She’d slept in an abandoned cabin and had been wearing the same clothes for two days. She probably looked no better than that swimming rat. “What will your parents think of me?”
“They’ll think you’re lovely.”
“They’ll think I’m a mess,” she corrected. “And they’ll hate me for trying to escape. If I’d succeeded, I would’ve ruined you, destroyed the future of House Phel, stolen their grandchild, and—”
“Nic,” he interrupted, holding out a hand and nudging his horse closer. Because she couldn’t refuse him, she put her hand in his. He squeezed it, the silvery-cool calm of his magic spreading through her, soothing and sweet. “They don’t know. I told them we might not return for a couple of weeks, and it’s been about that long.”
Weeks? She frowned. “What did they think we’d be doing?”
He lifted a shoulder, wry and resigned. “I didn’t know. I guess I imagined spending time at House Elal. Parties and receptions. Convocation society stuff. I figured you’d want time for friends and family to travel for the wedding, and more time afterward to say farewells. I didn’t know your traditions and wanted to accommodate you in whatever they were.”
She stared at him, feeling stupid and stunned at once. And unreasonably furious. “Why are you so kind?” she demanded.
He blinked at her. “Shouldn’t I be?”
“No.” She yanked her hand away and waved it in the air. “Your soft heart will lead you into trouble. You need to be hard and merciless if you’re going to survive in the Convocation.”
“Meresin isn’t in Convocation territory,” he pointed out.
“It will be if you want House Phel to be a High House again. Or, if your house is a boat, maybe you can row it to a new place thatisin Convocation lands.”
“It would be a bit big for that.” He grinned and pointed.
The tunnel of trees opened onto a vista of blue sky and bluer lake, surrounded by green grass. On the far side of the glassy lake, a large white house sprawled, perfectly reflected in the water. Colorful gardens tumbled around it, with groupings of chairs and tables scattered throughout. The center section of the house was graceful, with steps leading to a balustraded porch, tall columns supporting several tiers of balconies. From there, wings branched in random profusion to either side, hints of more gleaming through the foliage.
It was decidedly not a swamp.
“That’s House Phel?” she asked faintly, just to be sure.
Gabriel was watching her, an odd expression on his face. Nerves? “Yes. I know it’s not as grand as what you’re used to—and a great deal of it is still in miserable disrepair—but we’re making it livable again. I promise your room will be perfectly dry,” he added with a quirk of a hopeful smile.
