Built of rock as black as the volcanic stuff of the surrounding peaks, the house seemed to be mostly a series of towers, sharp spikes spearing the overcast skies. Nic had commented sardonically about the Sammael aesthetic, and how their affinity for causing pain was mirrored by their ancestral home. Gabriel smiled to himself, appreciating her insight, missing her with a crazed intensity. His magic kept reaching for her of its own accord, snarled and miserable when it failed to connect.

Was she up in one of those towers? If so, why couldn’t he feel her?

“Not very welcoming, is it?” Jadren asked, walking up behind him. Before Gabriel could growl that he’d walked this way to be alone, Jadren pressed the water flask into Gabriel’s hand. “Selly says you need to hydrate.” Then he gazed up at the forbidding citadel. “Downright menacing, that castle. Makes House El-Adrel look like a pretty beachside cottage by comparison.”

“You’ve never been here?” Gabriel had assumed the other wizard had. It seemed like the head families of the High Houses had a custom of visiting each other, and he was sure Jadren had implied as much.

Jadren squinted at the towers. “Not me. I never got out much. Not until Mother darling brought me to Meresin.”

“Explains your poor social skills.”

“You have no idea,” Jadren agreed.

“You ever going to tell us why you didn’t attend Convocation Academy?”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know any better,” Gabriel replied equably.

“Ignorance is bliss, they say.” Jadren took back the flask and took a healthy swallow, grunting in displeasure. “We need to make one of these with whiskey.”

“I have water magic, not whiskey magic.”

“We’d have to brew the whiskey, but if you could figure out the replenishing part, we’d be rich. Think of what we could charge for it!” Jadren smacked his lips in anticipation.

“Nic wants to grow grapes,” Gabriel offered, not sure why he was mentioning it, except that it made him feel closer to her to talk about her. “To make wine.”

“Wine flasks would be great, too.” Jadren nodded sagely. “We’ll keep the entire Convocation too drunk to realize how miserable they are.”

Gabriel laughed, realizing as he did that it wasn’t funny. Sobering, he turned back. The horses should be rested enough. Jadren walked alongside him.

“So what’s your plan for approaching House Sammael if you’ve never been there?” he asked.

“My plan?” Jadren looked around as if one might appear.

Gabriel set his teeth, so as not to snap in sheer frustration. “Yes. Remember how you argued to come along because you know how to approach a High House and I don’t?”

“Ohhh… that plan.” Jadren nodded thoughtfully.

Gabriel waited pointedly. The rest of the group, spotting their approach, got up and prepared to ride on. “And?” he prompted Jadren.

“I’m sure something will come to me.”

Wonderful. His mood blacker than ever, Gabriel checked Vale’s tack. Vale twitched an ear, swinging his head to gaze at him in mild astonishment when Gabriel yanked too hard on the cinch. Apologizing to the steed, he went to check on Salve, too. He’d brought Nic’s mare along in a burst of determined optimism, so she’d be able to ride home. That was the fantasy he clung to: that Nic would be fine, able to ride, and would return to House Phel beside him.