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“Of course. I assume House Phel hasn’t set up an account with Ratsiel yet?” She sighed mentally as he shook his head. On top of everything else, she had a monumental effort ahead of her as Lady Phel in simply putting her new house on a basic footing of a minimal standard of living. Until Gabriel had manifested as a highly rated wizard—out of nowhere, generations after the last wizard Phel had produced—the people of Meresin had lived like wild creatures in the swamps. The house itself had fallen into ruin. Indeed, all but the section they occupied was suspiciously damp, if not actually underwater. They enjoyed none of the conveniences that made life in the Convocation comfortable. “That will be my first job after breakfast. I’ll draft the proper documents to set up an account with Ratsiel, and also with Refoel for healing, and a few others to get us started.”
He frowned blackly. “I don’t like the idea of being beholden to the other houses, especially the High Houses.”
“First of all, we’ll be paying for services, or bartering with them for House Phel’s, so there will be no debt incurred. House Phel will not go into debt under my management.” Maman had taught her that much. House Phel might be foundering financially as well as in its physical foundations, but Nic could and would fix that much. She hadn’t grown up as the eldest child of the wealthiest house in the Convocation not to use those skills. “Second, you’re going to need allies among the other houses,especiallythe High Houses—and establishing mutually beneficial financial relationships is one of the best ways to do that. If they need what House Phel produces, then they’ll reconsider before trying to crush your efforts to reestablish Phel to its former position in the Convocation.”
Gabriel regarded her with some bemusement—which was at least better than the black displeasure. “Need I remind you House Phel has no products to export or barter at this time?”
“You do too, and you’ll have more soon. I’ll be working on that, also.”Add it to the list.“For now, I’m going to promise only what Iknowyou can deliver.” She gave him a bright smile, and he held up his hands in surrender, laughing a little.
“It occurs to me that this is part of why I thought it would be a good idea to marry the daughter of House Elal,” he commented wryly. “I don’t know why I’m arguing.”
“I don’t know why either,” she agreed pertly, then hesitated.
He narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“May I—would it be possible for me to have access to the house ledgers?”
“You can justhavethem,” he replied fervently. “Please take over the house accounts. And stop asking me for permission.”
Instead of explaining, yet again, why asking his permission was necessary, she picked up the missive from the Convocation, setting aside the one from her father to do so. Gabriel made note of her choice, black eyes studying her. Yes, she was more afraid of what her father had to say than the Convocation enforcers. What of it?
Gabriel ate steadily as she read the extensive list of her crimes and the Convocation’s detailed terms for when and how House Phel would relinquish her for punishment and retraining. Though some of the promised treatments to subdue the rebellious inclinations she’d demonstrated and to ensure her future obedience turned her stomach, they were also nothing new. She’d been a star student at Convocation Academy and hadn’t needed to undergo the more brutal methods of rendering a familiar pliant to their wizard’s will, but she knew of other familiars who had. Those treatments weren’t fun by any stretch, but they also wouldn’t kill her. Or permanently harm her. After all, she was a highly rated familiar, far too valuable to injure, and she carried the unborn child of her and Gabriel’s propitious blending of magical potential scores. The Convocation might not want House Phel to reclaim its former status among the High Houses, but they absolutely would want this child.
If she couldn’t persuade the Convocation that she’d been duly tamed, they’d simply take the child, and her own chances would turn sour rapidly. They wouldn’t kill her, but they’d make use of her in distasteful ways.
Feeling Gabriel’s steady gaze on her—his moon magic glinting silver-sharp in the air—she essayed a measuring glance at him. Oh yes, he was bubbling with quiet fury.
“Before you say a word,” he said coolly, “I am not complying with the Convocation’s insane demands. Not even the least of them.”
“Gabriel, if—”
“No.”
She took a breath, staring him down. “I’m just saying that—”
“No!” He slammed the meat of his fist down on the table, raising his voice in a rare shout, their breakfast dishes rattling in counterpoint. A few silver needles formed in the air and showered to the floor in a chiming rain.
Taking note of them, and that their appearance meant Gabriel had lost control of his moon magic, she raised a brow. “Can we have a conversation, or are you simply going to bellow at me?”
“I’m not having any conversation that involves turning you over to the Convocation for punishment and retraining.” He spat the words with profound distaste. “I chased after you, deprived you of your freedom, and brought you here—against your will—entirely to prevent them from doing exactly that. I bonded with you last night, against my better judgment, because you persuaded me that they couldn’t take you away if I did. I have become more of a monster than ever, all to preventthis!” He seized the Convocation missive and tore it into shreds.
Nic poured herself more tea—handy that her water wizard could heat it for her—added honey, stirred, then sat back in her chair, politely waiting.
“What?” he ground out.
Pleased with herself for outlasting him, she cocked her head. “Am I allowed to speak now?”
“I told you that you don’t—” He caught himself and raked both hands through his waving silver hair. “Point taken. Though I didn’t mean that you shouldn’t speak. Just that—” He broke off with a rueful sigh.
“It’s in a wizard’s nature to be commanding,” she replied sweetly, noting the flinch as her barb hit home.
“This is probably not the best time for you to needle me,” he said with a brooding glare. “I am not… the most rational where you are concerned.”
The magic—and sexual tension—hummed between them, so thick in the air that Nic nearly forgot what points she’d been hoping to make. She didn’t know what to make of his protectiveness. All wizards were possessive of their familiars, but Gabriel actually cared about her feelings. He truly wasn’t like any other Convocation wizard, with his odd obsession with making her a partner in all things.
“Go ahead,” he prompted ruefully. “Say your piece. I promise to keep my temper. Though I don’t promise to agree.”
“The Convocation intends to send my Betrothal Trials proctor to evaluate our bonding, along with my physical and mental health. Remember that they regard me as valuable and will want to confirm that I haven’t been damaged.” The proctor would also want to assess her tractability, but she didn’t mention that, as Gabriel was touchy on the subject.
