Gasping, Barl staggered. A good thing the attic was tightly warded, else the ignition of the incant would have rocked the mansion to its cellars. The councillor staggered too. But as the incant wasn’t grounded in an actual working, the effect passed off swiftly.

He turned to her, his face so alight, so alive, she couldn’t breathe. “I don’t believe it! How did you—how could you—”

Before she could answer, he kissed her.

His warm, slender hands, framing her face. His soft lips, his sweet lips, covering hers. Never in her life had she been kissed like this. She felt her arms drop to her sides, abandoned. Felt every muscle soften and go limp. Heard herself sigh her longing into his mouth. She dragged her eyes open so she could perish in his gaze.

Then swallowed a protest as he let go of her and stepped back.

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “That was wrong.”

Yes it was, completely wrong. A terrible mistake.

You idiot, Barl, you idiot. To let yourself feel for him? How much power over you does he need?

Willing her heart to calm, she cleared her throat. “It’s all right, Councillor. You were caught up in the moment. We’ll not regard it.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, as though they’d be safer there. “No. We won’t.”

Her kissed lips were aching. Her heart wouldn’t calm. He had a beautiful mind and a beautiful face and he stirred something within her that she’d never known was there.

But it doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. I’m here for me. For the magework. I’m not here for him.

“So,” she said, and raised a deliberately provocative eyebrow. “I was right. About the sigil and the syllables and Rubin Cylte being wrong.”

“Yes, you were right.” He offered a small, not quite mocking bow. “Mage Lindin, you are an extraordinary talent.”

She could easily hate herself, that she cared for his compliment. “Then perhaps you’ll not be so quick to doubt me next time.”

“Next time?” he murmured. “You think there’ll be a next time?”

“I hope so. I live for my magework, as you live for yours. As different as we are, it’s one thing we share. And it seems you and I work well together. It would be a shame to waste that.”

And for as long as I’m kept prisoner here, I’ll turn captivity to my advantage. I won’t have had my life ruined for nothing.

Silence, as they stared at each other. And then Morgan Danfey’s expression chilled toward wariness. “You do not ask why I am so determined to rework Hartigan’s transmutation incant.”

“I’m curious, of course,” she said, shrugging. “But if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me.”

“That seems unusually restrained of you, Mage Lindin.”

“I’m trying to turn over a new leaf.”