“Still, the woman gives you pause. Don’t try to deny it.”

My lord, my lord, she gives me more than pause.

Meeting his father’s narrowed gaze, Morgan pretended an indifference he was very far from feeling.

“Any mage who flouts the law is at least a mild cause for concern,” he said. “But I think her errant ways have been nipped in the bud. She simply needs to learn her place. A week or two of being bound and obeying Rumm should neatly suffice.” He stood. “And now, sir, I think I must leave you to rest, and take some rest myself. As you say, binding is no easy magic.”

“Yes… yes…” said his father. “But Morgan, before you go, why is it I’ve heard nothing more of this grand experiment of yours?”

The reworked transmutation incant, left to languish uncompleted while he tossed and turned it every which way, seeking to unravel its stubbornly elusive mysteries. The cursed thing haunted him. Taunted him. Racked him with doubt.

But that wasn’t something he could share with his father.

“I work on it when I can, my lord. I have had much Council business of late.”

“Indeed?” His father scowled. “Remember who you’re talking to, Morgan. The work falters, am I right?”

Curse it. “It is a trifle slippery.”

“So you’ve abandoned it? Do not tell me you are a butterfly mage, Councillor, alighting first on this notion and then flitting to that, no more constant or enduring than a flurry of snow in sunshine!”

“A butterfly mage?” Morgan kept his voice light, even though the accusation stung. “My lord, you serve me rough justice.”

An unsteady wag of one finger as his father snorted. “And you cozen me, boy. What, then? Are you truly trammelled?”

Boy. Though he longed for the solitude of his own chamber, Morgan sat once more in the chair beside his father’s vast, ornate bed. “I am… jiggered,” he admitted. “But I shall find my way out of the thicket, never fear.”

“On the morrow, Morgan, I shall assist you,” his father declared, his colour ashen, his chest sounding like an old bellows. “Bound, miscreant mage underfoot or no. Together we shall unjigger you. Not a Danfey born was ever defeated by magic.”

There was no use arguing. “Indeed, my lord, I would welcome your advice. Provided I am not called once more to the Council. And I must warn you, I might be. There is an outstanding matter that is not yet put to bed.”

“I see.” His father grunted. “What’s the to-do this time? Or can’t you discuss it?”

If it had been anyone other than Nevin Jordane’s girl, he’d likely answer and no harm done. But his father and hers were friendly enough that the news would be a cause of pain and even confrontation, and he’d had enough discord for one night.