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~3~
She was ridiculouslyhappy.
And it felt strange. She’d been miserable for so long. Grieving, really, ever since that black day she’d received her final MP scores that finalized the dreaded truth that she’d be forever relegated to being a familiar and never a wizard in her own right. Yes, she’d been determined to control whatever she could of her future, but those years had been powered by bitterness, anger, and a fair amount of dread over what sort of wizard would end up in possession of her. Then there’d been the last few weeks of storm-tossed ups and downs—the terror of flight, loneliness of leaving everyone behind, the chill of fear from her pursuers.
Then dealing with Gabriel himself, which was never straightforward. He made her laugh and want to weep. The way he made love to her had rattled her on a deep level, the intimacy of his regard shattering her careful poise. With a look, he could see right through her, never fooled by her cool posturing. She so desperately wanted to make him happy that a single sincere smile from her brooding wizard made her feel like the sun had burst out from behind clouds.
Worse, she didn’t even mind what that meant for her. The Fascination had been powerful enough that she hadn’t been able to face parting from him again once he’d found her in Wartson. With the bonding duly sealed, she felt finally settled and at peace. It was as if a low-level illness had finally relinquished its grip, leaving her filled with vitality and fresh with well-being.
She should probably fret about what this portended for her lack of autonomy, but she was too content. The old Nic had been so fretful and angry, exhausting herself while fighting the bonds of her fate. It was lovely and restful to give up that fruitless struggle.
Plus, starting the day ravishing Gabriel’s glorious physique would be enough to put even the dourest person in a perky mood. If she were a familiar from the romantic novels, songbirds would be circling her head, tweeting giddily. Lyndella had been like that when the wizard Sylus finally overcame her resistance and bonded her. She’d danced and sung around his castle, bringing him endless joy. Of course, Lyndella had been astonishingly beautiful, with a golden throat and a dancer’s body. If Nic were to emulate Lyndella, she’d only bring Gabriel wincing dismay with her lumbering and croaking. The mental image of him trying to come up with something kind to say had her choking back a laugh.
“Itisa bit musty,” Gabriel said in an apologetic tone, opening the double doors at the end of a hallway on the main level.
She stepped in and surveyed the decidedly musty library. No bits about it. A grand room once upon a time, one large enough to hold several seating areas for reading and conversation, it was sadly lacking grandeur now. The seating areas gaped like missing teeth, the previous furniture no doubt ruined by long submersion. Alcoves set into generous bay window spaces likely once held cozy cushions for curling up on, but now the seats were only warped and peeling wood. The windows themselves had been boarded up with fresher-looking wood, rendering the room dim and the air quite stale. In the shadows, built-in shelves rose from floor to ceiling, holding thousands of books. Ladders made of brass gleamed dully, perched on wheels to be moved into position to access even the highest shelves.
A lone desk sat on a raised area near the one window that hadn’t been boarded over, the new-looking glass letting in welcome sunlight, though it didn’t penetrate far. Several ledgers sat atop the desk, accompanied by a quill and inkwell.
Gabriel stood back, an odd expression on his arresting face, hands tucked in his pockets as he watched her assessment.
“The books on the lower shelves were ruined?” she asked, noting how the bottom two shelves all around the room stood starkly empty.
“Yes. The house didn’tentirelysink,” he answered, raising one dark brow at her. “At least, this main section didn’t,” he amended. “But those books had rotted. Though I dried them out as carefully as I knew how, they simply crumbled to dust. And mold,” he added with a grimace.
She nodded, unsurprised. Truly, it was miraculous that he’d savedanyof the books, let alone so many. Wandering to the lone glassed-in window, she tapped the low-quality glass and peered out at the view of the river, the same as from their room, which must be directly above. “And glass in only one window out of economy?”
“Glass is expensive,” he acknowledged ruefully, “and I prioritized having glass in our room, as I thought you’d be happier that way.”
Glancing at him in some bemusement, Nic considered again all the trouble he’d gone to in order to welcome the bride he’d imagined to be so willing. “How did you know I like to be able to see out?”
“I didn’t,” he admitted. “I just thought that if I’d been locked in a tower for several months with those metal shutters blocking the windows, I’d feel better having an unobstructed view.”
“Can’t have your valuable familiars flinging themselves to certain death,” she commented wryly. She had hated those shutters. Just another example of his uncanny ability to see through her that he’d noted it. “I suppose you purchased the glass from merchants?”
“Where else?”
“We’ll get a far better price negotiating directly with House Byssan.” She added setting up an account with them to her mental list. “Buying from a merchant easily doubles the cost, maybe more, way out here. Besides, Quinn Byssan is a good friend from my academy days.”
Gabriel looked interested at that. “Wizard?”
“Another familiar.” Not many of her friends who’d manifested as wizards had remained friendly after her final status had been announced. She understood. Wizards didn’t consort with familiars not their own outside of intimate family circles. It was considered bad form, as the taint lingered from the bad old days when wizards seduced away and even abducted attractively potent familiars. Showing too much interest in another wizard’s familiar led to tension between wizards, and tension between wizards led to apocalyptic battles that left only scorched earth behind. Hesitating, she glanced at Gabriel, who was studying her thoughtfully. “I’d like to invite Quinn to the wedding, if you don’t mind.”
His expression darkened. “What do I have to do to get you to stop asking permission from me like I’m your keeper?”
With a mental sigh, she refrained from reminding him that hewasher actual keeper. “You could make it an order,” she suggested sweetly.
“Not funny, Nic.”
“Fine, then. I have a number of friends I plan to invite to the wedding, and I hope they eat you out of house and home.”
“Eatusout of house and home,” he corrected, smiling slightly. “And I think that would be wonderful. I look forward to meeting your friends.”
She winced at the prospect of Gabriel being his earnest self, chatting up her familiar friends like they were people and pissing off every wizard master in attendance. She would have to discuss etiquette with him, which could wait. Going to the desk, she opened the top ledger, peering at the carefully penned entries. A schoolboy’s handwriting, a clear indication of exactly where Gabriel’s rural education had ended. For some reason, the sight of it made her heart melt, imagining younger Gabriel determinedly taking on the duties of the lord of a house. To defuse the sentiment, she flicked the ink pot with a dubious finger, giving Gabriel a deliberately arch look. “I suppose there’s not an actual stylus to be had in all of Meresin?”
“Let me guess,” he replied. “House El-Adrel produces magical quills that don’t need to be dipped in ink.”
It was a good guess, despite the sarcasm. Gabriel possessed a sharp mind, more than making up for his lack of education and experience. “Close. Except that House Calliope holds a special exemption license for the production and sale of the Calliope Stylus, which is self-contained, writes like a dream, and requires no external ink.”
