Because he didn’t want her to see the sigils that formed the unbinding incant. So. He may be reckless in his magework but he wasn’t a fool.

Eyes obediently shut, she listened to him recite six harsh syllables of power. Out of habit, not really out of hope, she bid them sink into her memory. Then she felt the air stir as he inscribed it with two linked sigils. Just in time, she managed to muffle her surprise. She was bound… and yet she could see their complex shapes clear in her mind. If he’d asked her to draw them, she knew that she could.

Is that usual, with a binding? I wish I knew. I can’t ask.

The councillor’s fingers tightened. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, sir. I’m fine.”

“Nearly done.”

One more syllable, swiftly spoken, and she felt his binding incant spring free. Between heartbeats her trammelled mage-senses sprang back to life. The pleasure of it was so great she gasped and opened her eyes. The shock of his power, so close to her, buckled her knees. She would have fallen if he hadn’t taken both her arms.

“The incant,” he said, shaking her. “Quickly. The longer I wait before rebinding you, the worse it will be.”

Desperate, she looked up at him. “Please, Councillor Danfey, can’t you leave me unbound? I won’t run away, I won’t—”

He shook her again, harder. “Mage Lindin, don’t make me regret my kindness. Give me the travel incant, now, or I’ll rebind you and your brother can fend for himself.”

Hating him, hating herself for showing weakness, for giving in to despair, she told him the incant’s syllables and showed him its single sigil. He repeated the words to make sure he had them aright, then used his left hand to sketch the sigil, not quite completed, making sure it didn’t engage.

“That’s right,” she said. “You have it.”

His eyes and face lost their fierce coldness. “Good. Now brace yourself.”

The second binding was even more painful than the first. But only because this time she knew what it meant, what she was losing, how his words would make her cloddish and blind. As the cruel incant sprang closed around her, setting her nerves on fire, she cried out and fell against him. Expected to fall like a witless animal to the floor.

Instead he held her close as she wept.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry. Be strong, Barl. Be yourself.”

Through the terrible burning, she could feel his heart beneath her cheek. It was pounding like a blacksmith’s hammer, his broad chest the anvil, shuddering with her pain. His arms tightened, cradling her. Had she ever felt so safe? Had she ever, in her whole life, felt as protected as she did now?

Confused, she struggled free. “I’m all right.”