“The last time I checked,” Nic said in a dry tone, “whether or not we can perform magic is irrelevant to our other skills and intelligence.”

Quinn wrinkled her nose as she laughed. “What they’re saying is true—Lord Phel has infected you with his radical ideas.”

Nic stilled, a rill of foreboding running chill through her. “Who is saying that?”

“Everyone here,” Quinn answered, her smile fading. “At least, the people who’ve come from the Convocation. That can’t be a surprise to you. Unless you’ve already become so used to Lord Phel’s… unusual ideas that you’ve forgotten just how counter to the Convocation’s policy and customs regarding familiars they are.”

Perhaps she had lost sight of that. Gabriel’s grounded conviction in his own notions, that deep certainty in his ideas—a certainty she could wish translated to confidence in his own motivations and feelings—made it easy to get swept up in believing in what he did. “No, I know how ‘unusual’ his ideas are, and what an unusual wizard he is, full stop. I should ask instead, what is the tenor of those remarks?”

“Hmm.” Quinn pulled out a chair, seating herself. “It varies, naturally, from person to person. Reactions range from confusion to interest to the outright certainty that the Convocation will have to move against House Phel.” She cocked her head thoughtfully. “Most fall under interested, even optimistic—which includes Sage and me—but we also have none of the wizards who truly regard their familiars as their personal slaves to use as they please. It might be different with them.”

“There’s a reason we don’t have those sorts here,” Nic replied with a wide, innocent smile, making Quinn laugh.

“I saw your request to House Byssan and noted your careful wording. Well done on collecting the sorts of wizards who would be intrigued by Lord Phel’s radical ideas rather than horrified. And now you’ve run off the few exceptions.”

Nic nodded, unwilling to confess that Gabriel’s outburst hadn’t been planned.

“The one exception,” Quinn said, “is Jadren El-Adrel.”

“True.” Nic pulled out a chair and sat, too.

Quinn waited, then smiled wryly. “I suppose there are things you can’t confide, even in me.”

“Let’s just say that Jadren is a special case and leave it at that.”

“I’ll say. Odd that he doesn’t have a familiar.”

“Among a number of oddities.” She checked her pile of NDAs to make sure she hadn’t dreamed it. She waved Jadren’s at Quinn. “But he did sign.”

“Will he sign the contract, though?”

“I believe he will.” I am trapped by my mother’s machinations as surely as you are, Lord Phel. “You heard what he said at dinner.”

“I did, but…” She shrugged. “I don’t always know what to believe.”

“I don’t know Jadren’s story, but I think he says exactly what he means. And doesn’t care what people think of it.”

“Interesting…” Quinn drew out the word, then sighed when Nic said no more. “So, how about something you can confide? What happened when the deliciously virile Lord Phel dragged you off? You said before that he isn’t cruel to you, but he looked so furious!”