“I have things to take care of,” Nic declared, drumming up a warm smile that painfully cracked her dry lips. “I’ll see to it that you three are given rooms.”

“Iliana and I will share, Lady Phel,” Han said, politely but firmly. “It will spare you a room for someone else,” he added, as if he were doing them a favor.

Nic inclined her head as graciously as possible, though it felt like her skull might break off at the top of her spine.

“Nic?” Alise said, taking a step toward her, then stopping and wringing her fingers together. “I’d like to have a conversation with you, in private, if possible.”

“Of course,” Nic replied, head pounding, though she resisted rubbing at the spike that threatened to drive through her temple. “I’ll have my secretary add it to my schedule.”

Alise nodded in response, biting her lip against something else she clearly wanted to say—which was hopefully not a comment on the absurdity of Nic having a secretary or a schedule. Well, she did have a busy schedule, but hardly a formal or organized one. Or a secretary, for that matter. She turned to go.

Unfortunately, Gabriel came with her, taking her arm in an apparently casual clasp that went straight to the bone. “I wasn’t aware you’d engaged a secretary,” he said in a quiet and mild tone that didn’t fool her for a moment.

Well aware she’d said those words entirely because that was what Maman would’ve said as Lady Elal, Nic tried to tug her arm away. To no avail. “Don’t test me, Gabriel,” she hissed under her breath. “I am not in the mood.”

“No, I can see that.” He steered her away from the stairs that led to their suite, where she’d had some idea of collecting herself in peace, and toward the back door instead. They stepped out into the misty landscape, and Gabriel began walking toward the stables.

“Where are we going?” she gritted out. “I have things to do.”

“Have your secretary clear your schedule,” he suggested.

She growled in frustration, the sound rising to an incoherent shriek inside her head that felt as if it might blast off the top of her skull.

“You need to blow off steam,” he replied calmly. Usually his cool silvery magic felt like a balm to her, but it was the last thing she wanted right then.

“I am so…” She had to take a deep breath. “Angry with you.”

“I noticed. Saddle Vale, please,” he called to one of the grooms. Startled, the girl leapt to obey, turned back to bow, then thought better of it halfway as she caught a glimpse of Nic’s expression. Her eyes widened, and she dashed off again. “Vale could use some exercise,” Gabriel explained. “Though I’m still getting used to having someone saddle him for me instead of doing it myself.”

“Am I to run behind?” she asked with heavy sarcasm.

He slid her a warily amused look, black eyes glittering. “You don’t have to pick a fight with me. You already have one. We’re just not having it with an audience.”