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She smiled, sticking with declining to comment as the safest course. “And the pregnancy?”
Growing serious, Asa laid a hand over her lower belly, black eyes half lidded in concentration. “It’s early days yet,” he murmured, half to himself. “Barely a month along, are you?”
“That’s right.”
“Any tiredness, nausea?”
“Tired,” she admitted, “but we’ve been busy.”
“I noticed you’re low on magic. I’ll talk to Lord Phel about not draining you so completely. Heavy-handed of him.”
“Please don’t,” she begged. She didn’t want to explain that Gabriel was still learning, or that the reigniting of the arcanium had been an unusual event. Gabriel would continue to improve in skill and finesse—and in the meanwhile, she didn’t want him inhibited in any way.
Asa sighed. “I’ll take your wishes into consideration, but draining your magic reserves so dramatically could affect your unborn child, just as it could make you physically ill.”
“I know my limits,” Nic replied firmly.
“But does he? We both know you won’t be able to stop him. His ignorance is a danger to you and his heir, and he needs to know that.”
“I need to knowwhat, exactly?” Gabriel asked from the doorway. He filled up most of it with his tall, wide-shouldered frame, his silver hair catching the light, except for that night-black streak, as black as his wizard’s eyes. Nic forgot sometimes, having grown familiar with Gabriel’s innate gentleness and fairness, how intimidating he could be when angered. No pretense needed. Gabriel glared silver daggers at Asa’s hand on her belly with those eyes, his magic coiling hard and sharp around him.
Asa sensed it too. Moving slowly, he removed his hand from Nic’s belly, holding both up in a gesture of peace that looked much like surrender. “Lord Phel, I was examining your lady to determine the state of her pregnancy.”
“And.” Gabriel threw out the word like a lance, not asking, but demanding.
“It’s not always easy to determine much at this early stage, but all seems to be well, Lord Phel,” Asa replied, standing and bowing courteously. “You should have no concerns about your heir.”
Gabriel bared his teeth in something that not even the most optimistic could call a smile. “I am not fond of the Convocation’s way of reducing people to their useful roles. Our child will be important to me as more than an heir, and my concerns are for Nic, a person who already exists. How is she, how is my ignorance endangering her, and what is it that I need to know?”
“I apologize for any implied insult. It was not intended. Your familiar is in good health, Lord Phel,” Asa replied formally. “I’ve healed Lady Phel of her variousinjuries.”
Asa put a slight emphasis on the final word, and Nic, her watchful gaze on Gabriel, managed not to wince at the flare of anger in his wizard-black eyes. She tried to give him a warning look, but his attention was entirely on Asa. “Mitigate my ignorance,” he instructed with quiet insistence. “Quit dancing around and tell me what I need to know about Nic’s limits.”
“The familiar’s magic has been drained excessively,” Asa replied. “Dangerously so, as I’m sure you can sense.” His tone made it clear he wasn’t at all sure Gabriel sensed that, and Nic had to steel herself not to flinch when his gaze snapped to hers, anger, accusation, and—worst of all—guilt in his eyes. She tried to keep her own expression calm and neutral, trying to communicate that this was not an extreme situation. Obviously, she couldn’t argue with either wizard, but she hoped Gabriel would reserve judgment for the moment.
“It is, of course, entirely up to you how you use your familiar, Lord Phel,” Asa continued with stiff formality. “None in the Convocation would gainsay you. It’s likely no surprise to you that I would like to secure this contract. However, I will not compromise my integrity as a healer for it. I won’t withhold my opinion and best advice simply to please you.”
Though Gabriel visibly fulminated, he considered Asa with a revised opinion. Asa had clearly managed to strike exactly the right note with Gabriel. Perhaps without realizing it, or perhaps in light of Nic’s advice. Whichever it was, it had been exactly the right thing to say—and if Asa always spoke so forthrightly to senior wizards, no wonder he hadn’t contracted with a house yet and was so eager to gain this position.
“Good,” Gabriel grunted, and Asa reacted with a start of surprise, making Gabriel smile mirthlessly. “I’m not interested in hiring sycophants. The job is yours—ifyou swear to always tell me when I’m wrong, and if you’ll teach me what I need to know about Nic’s abilities and limits—since she clearly isn’t going to.” His gaze slid to Nic’s again, his anger all for her now.
“To be fair, Lord Phel,” Asa put in, setting a hand on Nic’s shoulder, “familiars are well taught to refuse nothing that their wizards ask. In fact, the bonding won’t let them refuse, even if it occurs to them to do so.”
Gabriel’s jaw flexed, fingers curling into fists, and Asa removed his hand from Nic. “I asked you to give me honest advice, so I won’t make a hypocrite of myself and argue with you. But I would appreciate if you wouldn’t talk about Nic like she’s not right here.”
Nic lifted her brows at him, reminding him without words that he was doing the same thing. His mouth twisted in wry acknowledgment.
“I agree to all of your stipulations, Lord Phel,” Asa said, then nodded to Nic. “Lady Phel.”
Gabriel barely acknowledged him. “Are you done here?” he asked Nic. “Or do you need more healing?”
“I already—” Asa began, but Gabriel stopped him with a flick of his cold gaze.
“I’m much better,” Nic assured them both, hopping down from the table. “I would’ve met you in the library in another few minutes, as you asked. Did something come up?”
He cocked his head slightly, as if considering the answer, some sort of inappropriate retort leaping to his lips before his gaze flicked to Asa, and he squelched it. “Yes,” he said simply, holding out a hand to her.
She put her hand in his, obediently going with him as he turned to leave. “You have injuries too, Lord Phel, that Wizard Asa could tend to.”
