Looking pleased, Hahren retreated to the chamber door, tugged it ajar then beckoned into the antechamber beyond. A moment later the girl entered, flanked by two of the Hall’s duty mages. Her colour was high, her linen tunic dishevelled. Her clear blue eyes were alight with defiance. Acutely aware of Venette’s speculative scrutiny, that in Shari Frieden and Sallis Arkley he had enemies, not allies, Morgan kept himself strictly in hand.

And then Barl Lindin’s blue gaze fell on him… and she faltered. Her shock, seeing him, was shocking.

She feels it, just as I do. What does this mean?

He knew what he wanted it to mean, even as he knew such a thing was impossible. She was unranked, and brought before the Council on the most serious of charges. But how could he not think of it? Even as her beauty beat through his blood, her breathtaking power lit a flame in his heart.

“Well, well,” Venette said under breath. “Nobody or not, she has a surfeit of aptitude.”

From the looks on their faces, the others could feel it too. Varen, who never slumped, somehow managed to sit even straighter in his chair.

“You may leave us, Lord Hahren. Take the duty mages with you. They can wait outside.”

Hahren hesitated longer than was wise, then nodded. His eyes raged with disappointment. He’d wanted to see the girl punished. “My lord. Councillors,” he murmured, then withdrew, the duty mages silently obedient at his heels.

As the chamber door closed behind them, Varen drummed his fingers on the table. “Very well, Mage Lindin. Account for yourself.”

“Is there any point?” the girl asked. Her chin was up, her expression defiant. “Surely you’ve already decided to condemn me.”

“Tread carefully, Mage Lindin,” Sallis snapped. “You are in perilous straits.”

A faint flush of colour touched the girl’s cheeks. “What did Lord Hahren tell you?”

“We aren’t interested in his tale,” said Venette. “We want to hear yours.”

“You didn’t before,” the girl said. Beneath her defiance she was frightened. “You dismissed me before, without giving me the chance to prove myself worthy of a place in the College.”

Varen’s drumming fingers drummed louder. Then he slapped the table. “Enough posturing, Mage Lindin. You do not impress.”

Barl Lindin stared at the floor. Watching her closely, Morgan thought she was making a deliberate effort not to look at him. And he thought that effort cost her something. Still aware of too-perceptive Venette beside him, he did his utmost to show the girl nothing but indifference.

“I’m sorry, Lord Varen,” she said, not looking up. “I don’t mean to be rude.”

Venette snorted. “And yet you are. Can it be you’re trying to give us a bad impression of you?”

The girl lifted her gaze, stricken. “No!”

“Then tell us what happened.”

“Lord Hahren tried to lay hands on me. I was afraid. I lashed out.”