Page 14 of Strange Familiar (Warriors of Magic #2)

~14~

C illian was deep into the folded archive with a mental image of himself head-down and mostly submerged in a massive trunk of tissue paper, ass in the air as he scrabbled blindly around for books hidden in the bottom. He just knew more books must occupy the null-space, but they were getting more and more difficult to locate and extract. Especially as he reached those original, meticulously crafted inner layers where, he felt sure, the first books had been hidden.

His continued work over the days following that conversation with his grandmother—while going slowly, preserving his magic, pausing to take breaks, eat healthy, blah blah blah—had only further convinced him of his original suppositions. The first librarian wizard to create this folded space to hide the House Phel books had been diabolically clever and fueled with immense power. Possibly they’d had the help of familiars, which Cillian found deeply ironic at this point. There might not be library emergencies, but clearly there existed tricks and twists in the use of their magic that House Harahel had lost over time by devaluing the power of their art. Not that Cillian ever wanted to have a bonded familiar, but the magical assistance clearly made a difference.

He missed Alise. And not just for her rose-infused, wine-rich magic that she’d gifted him so generously, but for her insights and her acerbic wit. Was she still at House Phel or had she gone back to Convocation Academy? He hated not knowing and could only hope that his compliant behavior and successful completion of this project would soften Lady Harahel enough to give him to permission to at least message Alise. But he couldn’t do that without concentrating on the task at hand.

Mostly, it would be really nice to have a magical boost from someone.

On the heels of that thought, he heard something. Voices? Surely not. Even if his grandmother had intruded on his secured salon again, there’d be only one voice. A hand crisply collided with the back of his head and Cillian groaned, rubbing the smarting spot as he unwound his wizardry and conscious mind from the sticky beehive of the folded space.

“I was already—” he began and yelped. “Han? Iliana!”

The pair of familiars grinned at him, Han extending a hand. “Sorry, mate, that was me that smacked you. We spoke to you several times, but you were that far away.”

Dazed, Cillian shook the hand of the tall blond man, while Iliana bounced excitedly next to him. When he next extended a hand to her, she squealed and threw herself into hugging him. With her exuberance and red hair flying, embracing her felt like holding onto a fire elemental.

“We’re so happy you sent for us!” she exclaimed.

Of course, he hadn’t, since he was interdicted from sending for anyone. “Did you… meet with Lady Harahel?” he asked cautiously.

Iliana nodded with enthusiasm while Han looked a bit more jaundiced. “She’s lovely, your grandmother,” Iliana answered, then poked him in the ribs. “Why didn’t you tell us you’re the scion of a high-house family? You outrank all of us. Well except for the Elal sisters, but they don’t count. I can’t believe Alise kept it a secret, too.”

Cillian barely managed to avoid wincing. He’d meant to tell Alise. Eventually. But it ranked so low in matters of importance in his mind that he hadn’t quite gotten around to it. Now, observing Iliana’s reaction, and Han’s new reserve, Cillian began to wonder how Alise had taken that news. Was that part of why she’d left? Could she be that angry with him?

“Being a grandson in a family like House Harahel’s hardly ranks in anyone’s estimation,” he said ruefully, wishing he could explain that reasoning to Alise. Good idea in hindsight, as so many were. “I haven’t heard from Alise recently,” he tendered, wondering how strange that would sound to these two, but needing to know something, anything about her. “Is she still at House Phel or…?” He trailed off as they exchanged looks, a shared expression of grim worry that immediately alarmed him. “What?”

“You don’t know then,” Han said slowly, and Iliana elbowed him in the ribs hard enough to make him blow out a breath and slide her a glare.

“Of course he doesn’t know.” Iliana threw her hands in the air. “He wouldn’t ask if he knew.”

“I was gathering my thoughts,” he protested to her. “It’s not easy news to give.”

“Well, nothing you’re doing is going to soften the blow.”

“Oh, you think that there’s something we can say or do to soften this blow?” Han gestured sharply at Cillian. “The man is in love with her. He’s going to be devastated.”

“Han. That’s their personal business and—”

“With all due respect,” Cillian interrupted sharply, far enough out of his usual mild-mannered behavior that they both looked shocked, “the suspense is worse than anything. Please tell me immediately, and as succinctly as possible, where Alise is.” He braced himself, knowing that hoping they’d say she’d gone back to Convocation Academy would be asking too much.

“Elal,” Han said briefly, then clasped him on the shoulder. “Alise went back to House Elal with her father.”

Once the pair had settled down, they made a decent tag-team, telling Cillian the story of little Bria’s birth, the naming ceremony, and all that ensued, all while interrupting each other with salient details and agreeing on some points, amiably bickering on others. As awful as the story was—or perhaps because their byplay lightened the darkness of the tale—he found himself watching and enjoying their back and forth.

Han and Iliana had been friends for years, certain that they could never have more than that, as two familiars destined to have their mates and fates decided by someone else. Alise had told Cillian the tale of their escape from Convocation Academy. Though Han was the warrior of the pair and Iliana the gentle-hearted, inherently sweet one, it had been Iliana who determined they would defy the Convocation and find a way to be together. Theirs was a love that had overcome the greatest of obstacles and their deep connection shone through clearly.

Cillian rather envied that, telling himself he was learning from their example, even though he knew he was focusing on that to distract himself from the dawning dread and gnawing worry for Alise.

Alise.

At House Elal.

Trapped there with her father, whom she loathed and feared. All alone.

And all this time he’d been more than half angry with her for deserting him. A lot of that anger came from hurt, that she could be so callous, so uncaring, so easily leaving him without even a goodbye. And then she’d gone and nobly sacrificed herself to save her newborn niece.

According to Han and Iliana, there had been a number of discussions at House Phel on how to retrieve or rescue Alise. There seemed to be no legal recourse. The bargain had been fairly struck and exactly walked the lines of Convocation law. As a scion of House Elal and the obvious heir, regardless of what the Convocation would regard as standard family squabbling and drama, Alise was where she belonged. The only wiggle room they’d found was that House Phel had paid for Alise’s education through graduation, which meant they had some leverage with Convocation Academy. But that would only manifest if Provost Uriel really wanted to confront Lord Elal and that seemed unlikely, especially given that the provost had informally suspended Alise.

And given that Uriel seemed to be aligned in a cold war against the Elal-Hanneil conspiracy—or however many houses were involved—with outright war looming on the horizon, the provost was unlikely to tip her hand or compromise their strategy to recover one young wizard who’d only caused her trouble.

Which meant that they were at an impasse, with Nic and Gabriel alternating between talking each other down from storming House Elal to forcibly extract Alise. Neither wanted the other to make the attempt, and they had the added complication of little Bria to care for. As Lord Phel, Gabriel had categorically ordered everyone at House Phel to stand down, though more than a few of them had considered disobeying. From the way Han and Iliana fell into arguing about it, they and others would have staged a rescue—if only they could have devised a strategy that had a hope of succeeding.

Even Jadren and Seliah, still assimilating their roles as Lord and Lady El-Adrel—a house that likely was part of the conspiracy before their coup d’etat—had considered going after Alise, before eventually agreeing to wait. Jadren had extolled the virtues of simply formally approaching House Elal as another high-house head, with Seliah rolling her eyes and demanding if he planned to simply knock on the door, and Jadren retorting, why not, it had worked to rescue her from House Sammael. Han and Iliana even partially acted out the two roles in their recitation, which had Cillian laughing despite himself.

Which, he realized, had been their aim.

In the end, no one knew what to do and so no one had done anything. The solace they all clung to was that Alise should be safe. Lord Elal wanted to subvert her, to bring her into alignment with his cause, so he wouldn’t hurt her. But there had been no word from her either.

Cillian listened to all of this, nodding along in apparent agreement, his thoughts delving deep. He might be giving in to romantic delusions to imagine that he knew Alise better than any of them, but he believed he did. Alise kept that cool reserve around her like an impenetrable wall, allowing others to see only what she wanted them to see. And Alise wanted to be seen as capable, intelligent, in control of her magic and her destiny. Which she was. But she was also a deeply sensitive and caring individual who’d been starved of love all her life. Though she’d found a sense of belonging and family at House Phel, it was still new to her.

How would Alise feel that no one had come for her? She would assume they had written her off, that everyone was preoccupied with their own problems and concerns. And she wouldn’t be wrong. After all, Cillian had accepted his grandmother’s edicts and buried himself in the archives, believing the worst of Alise without attempting to see if she was all right. And he was the one person she’d finally trusted, that she’d allowed inside that careful reserve.

For the first time, he considered that she perhaps hadn’t left him without a word of her own free will. His grandmother wasn’t above lying to protect him and House Harahel, or simply slanting the perspective on what had happened. She’d clearly indicated she felt Alise was a threat.

Regardless, the ultimate responsibility lay with him. He could have chosen to rebel against his family and house instead of knuckling under in his usual meekly accommodating way.

Angry at himself, he fulminated over his lack of action. If he wouldn’t go against the rules for Alise, then who would he do it for? This was a test of character and so far he’d failed miserably. His grandmother, so-called friends, and pleasant-voiced enemies, they all gave him shit for being bamboozled by beautiful, sweet, lithe-limbed Szarina, saying he sacrificed his integrity for her. They liked to mock him for thinking himself her savior, for fancying himself a white knight charging to the rescue, but he’d had good reasons. Honorable reasons. Yes, he’d violated his personal integrity for Szarina, but he’d had the noblest of intentions.

He would stoop to far worse for Alise. She wasn’t fine and safe at House Elal. She was in the gravest peril, even worse than what she’d faced from Gordon Hanneil. That vile wizard, at least, had been clearly her enemy. She’d known from the first moment that he posed a great danger to her, and she’d had the wit to be justifiably afraid, finding ways to fight back.

With her father, as much as Alise feared becoming like him, as much as she hated him, she also still loved him in that indelible way of a child for their parent. Cillian knew that some part of Alise, the girl who’d been perceived as less than and had been neglected by her father, still longed for his approval.

And Piers Elal might be a loathsome toad of a wizard, but he was far from stupid. He knew how to manipulate people and he’d clearly set his sights on winning Alise over as his heir. He’d pull out all the stops to convince Alise that she could be happy embracing whatever it was he wanted her for. Alise was a powerful wizard, possibly more powerful than anyone who hadn’t swum in her magic as he had could know. The opportunity to exercise that power could be terribly seductive. Especially if she believed that no one cared about her. It had taken diligent effort on his part to convince her of his love for her. She might not return his intense feelings, but it would harm her to think he hadn’t been sincere or that his feelings had changed.

How could she believe otherwise when he had effectively abandoned her? He’d promised her once that he’d never let her down, that he’d always be there for her, and when it had come down to it, he’d failed her. Well, no longer. If no one else could think of a way to extract Alise, then it should be left to a librarian. He would develop a foolproof strategy that wouldn’t require might or the law or the assistance of any of the high houses, including his own.

Also, he possessed a secret weapon. He patted the pocket where Alise’s favor rested, always over his heart. Such antiquated Convocation customs transcended law, dating back to the days of outright war. Lord Elal would abide by it. So would Alise, whether she wanted to or not.

Cillian became aware of the silence in the room, broken only by the crackle of the fire, now dying low. He should add some wood to it. Han and Iliana sat still, arrested expressions on their faces. He rather thought the three of them might have been sitting in silence for some time.

“Cillian?” Iliana ventured, a worried line between her fiery brows. “What’s in your pocket.”

“A key to open a locked door,” he answered, not intending to be inscrutable, but liking the way it sounded. Heroic.

“I told you he’d go after our Alise,” Han said with satisfaction. “I’ll go with you.”

“Lord Phel forbade it,” Iliana reminded him, almost absently, her gazed focused on Cillian.

“Thank you, Han,” Cillian said. “Thank you, both. But the plan I have in mind will work for only me to go to House Elal. I promise, though, I’ll get her out.” By hook or crook.

“Well, all right.” Iliana sighed. “Though we only just got here and I thought you needed our help. Magical help.”

“Oh, I do,” he assured her. “And I have to do that first, so let’s get to it.”