“As long as necessary,” he replied coldly, allowing some of his water magic to chill the humid air around the loathsome woman.

“I am expected at Convocation Center.” Though she shivered, the proctor lifted her chin and firmed her lips. “I cannot dally here.”

“Then by all means,” he returned, “do not dally.” He swept a hand at the carriage she’d arrived in just a few hours ago, then cast a jaundiced eye at the overcast, twilit sky. “Feel free to depart immediately. It looks like rain.”

“Does it ever not look like rain in this miserable swamp?” she snapped back. “I am not leaving, Lord Phel, until I’ve completed my duties.” She slid her disapproving glare onto Nic. “As you’ve failed to demonstrate that this recalcitrant and demonstrably disobedient familiar is properly bonded, I shall send a Ratsiel courier to Convocation Center. They will dispatch an escort to take Lady Veronica Elal into custody and return her for disciplinary action and retraining, while I wait here for the other one.”

Nic made a sound of distress—not for that prospect, but because he’d vised his grip on her hand. Making himself relax, he stared down the proctor. “Lady Phel remains with me. I have need of her. And you were allowed on my lands only on the contingency that those Convocation hunters do not step one hairy, clawed foot here.”

That got their audience’s attention. The familiars, gathered into their own little group—though Asa’s familiar, Laryn, stood well apart from them—in particular looked keenly interested. It seemed the hunters were kept somewhat secret. With common folk, he could see how that was possible as they couldn’t see the creatures, but magic wielders, whether wizard or familiar, seemed able to detect the presence of hunters easily.

“The Convocation agreed to your terms on the premise that I’d be welcomed here and allowed to observe. So far I have not been offered lodging or refreshment, and I hardly feel welcome.” The woman delivered her remonstration slicingly, but beneath, her magic, weak as it was, quaked slightly.

And Gabriel actually felt a hint of remorse. Glancing at Nic, he found her deep-green eyes fixed on him—with some of the same feeling in it. “My apologies,” he said, returning his gaze to the proctor. “Our hospitality has indeed been remiss. Mom?”

His mother, Daisy, jerked in surprise at being noticed. She and Gabriel’s father had retreated to a far corner of the porch, observing in appalled anxiety. No wonder. Their daughter had been found, named a familiar, and proclaimed insane as a result of it, lost again, and now arguments raged that they could barely understand. His father, too, looked confused and more than a little sad. Gabriel grieved at how he’d turned their lives inside out—and he saw an opportunity to at least spare them the sight of Nic taking her extraordinary alternate form.

“Mom,” he repeated, more gently, extracting a tremulous smile from her. “And Dad—would you two see about finding a room for the proctor and a snack to tide her over until she can…” He set his teeth and will against the prospect of the odious woman at his dining table. “… join us for the evening meal?”