Not just tears now, but whimpers too. She pressed her palms to her face and turned to the stone wall, trying to stifle the sounds of distress. If the mages beyond the door heard her they’d certainly tell the Council. And the Council would rejoice to know how humbled she was.

Perhaps even Morgan Danfey would enjoy it. How can I trust him? I can’t let it matter that he saved me. He’s still one of them.

Somehow she had to find a way to tell Remmie what had happened, warn him that he must leave this mess alone. Though she’d left him hurt and furious behind her, she knew her brother. His anger wouldn’t last forever. Knowing Remmie, it wouldn’t last past a week.

And then he’ll come to Elvado and raise a ruckus. The Council will see that he loses his position, and probably ensure he’s never allowed to teach again. They might even bind him.

The thought of Remmie bound, and denied his precious schoolhouse, slid more tears down her cheeks, hot and fast.

The sound of the stone chamber’s door opening turned her face from the wall. Had her smearing her wet cheeks dry on her sleeve. And then she was blinking, because her visitor wasn’t Morgan Danfey.

“Lady Venette Martain,” the mage said, cool and self-contained, closing the door. “We met last night, if you recall.”

So. It was morning. Barl nodded. “My lady.”

With a careless snap of her fingers the woman ignited more glimfire. The jewelled gold clasping her throat and wrists flashed warm fire. The gold threads in her deep-green silk tunic spangled and sparked. She was beautiful and powerful… a dangerous combination.

“No, no, Mage Lindin,” she said, her smile swift and sharp. “It’s quite all right. Don’t get up.”

Barl matched her smile for smile, feeling reckless. “I wasn’t going to.”

One eyebrow lifted, then Venette Martain began a seemingly aimless wander. “I’m trying to decide,” she said at last, “whether you’re stupid… or deep.”

“Perhaps I’m deeply stupid,” she suggested.

“Yes. Perhaps you are.” Still wandering, Venette Martain folded her arms. “You’re certainly fortunate. If Morgan hadn’t spoken up for you when he did…”

“You’d have let them do away with me? Thank you, my lady. It’s good to know where I stand. Or sit.”

Venette Martain flung out a pointing finger. “Young woman, you’d be well-advised to mind your manners. If you think binding is the worst thing that can happen to you, trust me when I say you’re incorrect.”

“Trust you?” Barl laughed. “Oh, certainly. That would be my first impulse.”

Anger didn’t diminish the councillor’s beauty. “You consider yourself hard done by?”

“Trust me, Lady Martain. So would you, if our positions were reversed.”