Until then, she was more than happy to curl up in his lap, even if it meant telling him the terrible news.

~ 22 ~

He’d lived his entire life up until just recently without the arcanium, Gabriel told himself as they finally reached the land he’d grown up on, so it didn’t matter what Elal had done to it. What did matter was the people at House Phel. Much as it twisted his gut to think of Elal violating the place that had become sacred to him, because of and for Nic, he’d give up the arcanium to have everyone safe from harm.

Including Selly… But Nic was correct. He had to trust in her, and Jadren, that they’d survive. Grimly, he reflected on the irony of trusting the El-Adrel spy to keep his sister safe, but everything had turned upside down, it seemed. Telling his parents that he’d lost Selly yet again would be unpleasant. Even worse would be if his parents weren’t alive to be told.

Nic rode beside him, low over Salve’s neck as they raced the final distance to the manse, wearing the riding clothes Alise had wisely brought with her and stowed on the barge. She caught his eye, her smile grave, her eyes full of understanding and regret. She blamed herself for giving up their secrets, even though she also admitted that no one could stand up to Hanneil thought-seeking. It tormented her, too, knowing how her mother had been reduced, and she also blamed herself for that. Guilt wasn’t a rational thing, and Gabriel knew he couldn’t talk her out of it.

What he could do was hand her the tools and opportunity to make it right. Or take revenge.

The answering glitter in her dark emerald gaze told him she understood, and agreed.

This new mental and emotional intimacy between them wasn’t something Nic had precedent for. They’d spent the trip upriver talking, comparing notes, and sharing stories. According to Convocation teaching, what they’d done hadn’t been possible. He should not have been able to access her magic from that distance, nor should he have been able to push her into alternate form without touching her. Even more dramatically, she insisted that there was no way she’d sent her magic into him, as he was sure he’d experienced—and as he felt still. He no longer needed to touch her to consciously sip from her magic. It flowed into him with a steady warmth, curling around him with love he couldn’t doubt. Her father may have induced the Fascination with an Aratron potion, but Nic loved him, just as he loved her.

They might not need to touch to transfer magic, but they couldn’t seem to bear to have much distance between them. Nic thought it was the bond at work, reestablishing and strengthening their connection, rebuilding what had been strained to breaking. He was sure he’d been able to do the supposedly impossible because of their reciprocal bond. Nic, true to her nature, doubted that—but she also had no better explanation.