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“That Convocation proctor—that’s why she wants to take Selly, why she accused us of neglect or deliberate cruelty.”
Wincing, Nic nodded.“She doesn’t know.The proctors have certain inherent biases.It’s as unusual for a familiar of Selly’s power to turn up among nonmagical folk as it is, well, for a wizard of Gabriel’s power to manifest.Selly’s was just different enough that you didn’t observe it in the same way.”
Daisy nodded ruefully.“Gabriel becoming a wizard was hard to miss.”
Nic laughed softly.“He’s told me the story.”
Shaking her head, Daisy studied Nic.“And your own people—they knew you for a familiar right away?”
Deciding not to explain that Nic’s family had believed her to be a wizard until they were all disabused of that notion, Nic nodded.“Growing up among wizards and familiars, my magical potential was noted early on.I started attending Convocation Academy to learn to control my magic when I was five.”
“You were so young, and you’ve studied so long.How can my Selly ever catch up?”
It was a good question, and one with perhaps a distressingly negative answer.“Gabriel did,” she pointed out.“If he did, Selly can, too.”
“I don’t want her going to that academy,” Daisy burst out.“I don’t like that vicious proctor woman.I won’t have her taking my daughter away.”
Clearly Gabriel was an apple that hadn’t fallen far from this tree.“Gabriel feels the same,” Nic replied with gentle firmness.“You should discuss it with him.”
Daisy set her wineglass down and dusted off her skirts.“That boy doesn’t listen to me,” she said with some irritation.“I’m proud of him, of course.We both are.But when he turned into a wizard, he—” She caught herself and stood.
“He’s the same person he always was, Daisy,” Nic said, standing also, stung into defending Gabriel.She knew it pained him that he no longer fit in with his nonmagical family.
“You didn’t know him before,” Daisy retorted, eyes bright with tears.“He was such a sweet boy.Such a good heart, loving, kind, generous, and—” She dashed the tears away with the back of her hand.
“Gabriel is still all of those things.”More so than anyone else she’d ever known.
“I don’t know.”Daisy searched Nic’s face.“It’s a strange thing, to be frightened of your own son.He used to have the prettiest blue eyes like his father’s, and black hair like mine.Now I look into those dark, dark eyes, see that hair that turned white—overnight!—and sometimes I don’t even recognize him.All I see is a monster.I lost my son to your magic.And now my daughter, too.”
Nic took a chance and reached for Daisy’s hand.“They’re the same people they always were,” she said with urgency, needing Gabriel’s mother to understand this.She squeezed the woman’s hand.“Flesh and blood,yourflesh and blood, just with a bit of magic thrown in.”
Daisy pulled her hand away, not ungently, but with deliberate firmness.“I can’t—” Her gaze jerked up to a point over Nic’s shoulder.“Gabriel!”
Nic closed her eyes in pain.She should’ve been paying attention to the feel of Gabriel’s approach.They must not have shut the doors completely.
“I came to see what was keeping Nic,” he said flatly.
“I’ll go check on the meal,” Daisy said, flustered, practically running out of the room.Gabriel barely acknowledged his mother’s departure.
Nic followed her and firmly closed the doors, then turned and leaned against them.“How much of that did you hear?”
“Enough,” Gabriel answered, still in that toneless voice, his back to her.
She went to him and put her arms around his waist.He remained rigid, so it felt like hugging a tree.“She’s overwrought.Upset about all that happened today.Worried about Selly.”
“She didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”Gabriel’s voice rumbled through him.“Or anything I didn’t know.I’ve felt her fear, seen how she looks at me sometimes.”
“Gabriel…” She hugged him tighter.“You are not a monster.”
He unbent slightly, putting his hands over hers.“In the eye of the beholder, I suppose.”
“No,” she said firmly, ducking under one big arm to circle in front of him.“Beholders don’t always know.Don’t people label something monstrous out of fear and ignorance?”
“I don’t know about that.”
“In all of the stories,” she insisted, “the monster is unknown, all the scarier because it’s always in the shadows, barely glimpsed.Once it becomes known, it ceases to be frightening.It even ceases to be monstrous.”
“Clearly I haven’t read as many stories as you have.”
