Jadren’s lip curled. “I realize you are ignorant of Convocation ways, Lord Phel.” Jadren made it sound like a fatal personal failing. “But I would advise you to have a care how much leash you give your familiar. Such laxity could turn out very badly for you.”

Gabriel sat back, considering the man, acutely aware of the raptly listening audience, and Nic’s plentiful advice on playing arrogant Lord Phel who must keep his minions suitably cowed. He also felt Nic’s intent gaze on the side of his face, burning with warning. “You are in my house, Wizard Jadren,” he said softly. “House Phel is mine, as are the rules. I am thoroughly uninterested in your opinion of my rules, but I do require that you follow them. You are, of course, free to decline my contract and depart.”

It seemed the entire room held their breath. Jadren narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have the latitude you seem to think you do, Lord Phel,” he replied, not putting the threat into words, but implicitly reminding Gabriel of the enchanted dagger—evidence of license infringement—that Lady El-Adrel kept in custody to compel House Phel’s acceptance of her agent. “Your house is still on probationary status. Would you truly risk that to coddle a familiar?”

Down the table, the proctor leaned forward, expression keen with curiosity. Nic didn’t move, but Gabriel felt her alarm prickle along his skin.

“For my wife? Yes.” Turning to Nic, he took her hand. “You, and everyone who wishes to be a member of House Phel, will treat Lady Phel with the respect and deference due her station as an equal head of this house.” Nic’s hand spasmed in his, but he squeezed it, casting his gaze down the table to ensure everyone present knew they were included in this edict. Nic wanted him to be king of this castle? Then he would be, particularly on this. There were some concessions he simply would not make, not even as a pretense.

Jadren’s face was a picture of incredulity. “You’d destroy everything, for her?”

“No,” Nic said at the same time he said, “Yes.”

He caught and held her gaze. “I don’t care what the Convocation says about familiars,” he told her, then deliberately looked down the table at the proctor. “In Meresin, everyone is a person first, and their magical inclination second. If you don’t like that, you are welcome to depart. Immediately.”

“You might’ve waited until they all signed the NDA,” Nic muttered, but emotion shone in her green eyes, and it wasn’t anger.

He smiled at her. He might’ve started this venture to restore House Phel, but she’d become the means and the meaning. Without her, it could all sink back into the marsh. Besides, the proctor would never have signed the NDA anyway. Nic had accused him of wanting to go to war with the Convocation, and that wasn’t wrong. It was also sounding better all the time.

Jadren sat back in his chair, a strange expression on his face. “I can’t decide if you’re courageous or a fool.”