“Not in a way that physically harms you, that is,” Sergio inserted with unsettling enthusiasm. “Still, I look forward to renewing our acquaintance.”

Nic forced herself to hold still as the hunter’s foul breath washed over her. It smelled like the dead thing it was.

“Is that really necessary?” Jadren asked in a bored tone, though he kept an easy hold on Alise’s arm, casually restraining her. “A collar is so gauche. Surely a pair of Sammael wizards aren’t afraid of a mere familiar.”

“Veronica Elal has always thought far too highly of herself,” Sergio returned in a sorrowful tone, “or she wouldn’t have dared attempt to escape the Convocation and her rightful role in life. She needs a bit of humbling. This is only the first step in breaking the false pride that has warped what could’ve been a brilliant familiar. But no worries: the Convocation trainers are eager to teach her the important lessons that will restore her early promise as a valuable cog in our well-oiled machine.”

Though it took everything in her to submit to being collared again—and in front of all of House Phel—Nic quelled the urge to run. The hunters possessed supernatural speed, as she’d experienced, and they’d only pin her down and drag her away in chains. She should probably be past caring about her pride, but if she ever returned to House Phel, she’d rather not be shamed before her people more than she already was. Still, she turned her head away, unable to bear the hunter’s dripping fangs so near her face… and she spotted Laryn, standing well off to the side, wearing an expression of unholy glee. The fool hadn’t even had the sense to disappear. What did she imagine would result from this—that Asa would take her back to Convocation Center?

Perhaps so.

“I’m contacting our father,” Alise gritted out, her hands clenched in fists. “You’ll regret crossing House Elal.”

Sergio snickered, swaggering forward to attach a lead to Nic’s collar himself. “Lord Elal can take it up with the relevant authorities—though I doubt he’ll have any luck, if he even cares—but the Convocation is extremely interested in making an example of this recalcitrant familiar.” He yanked viciously on the chain, dropping Nic to her knees before she could resist. “House Sammael is ever loyal to the Convocation,” he declared. “We are above such petty extortion and threats. Come along, pet. No time for napping.” Winding the lead around his hand, he dragged Nic to her feet again and pulled her toward the carriage.

“Wait!” Sabrina shrieked, stomping her foot like a child. “What about my familiars?”

“Don’t fret, silly Sabrina,” Sergio chided, shoving Nic into the carriage. “The hunters have their scent now. They’ll ferret out wherever the naughty things are hiding, and your pair of lovers will be at House Sammael in a heartbeat. You’ll be able to play with them to your heart’s content.”

“Yay!” Sabrina clapped her hands together, following them into the carriage.

From the inside, the carriage was transparent, allowing Nic a good, last look at the graceful manse, her people, turning to each other in agitation, Alise in tears and Jadren looking stoic. In the background, Laryn waved goodbye, and the hunters split into groups, dropping onto all fours to sniff the ground. Like a lethal river of blight, they streamed off to find Han and Iliana.