“Never mind. There are histories, yes, some quite old. What era are you interested in?”

“The, ah—” She caught herself before calling it the “final” one. Nothing ominous in that. Besides, it hadn’t been so final after all. “The most recent, before House Phel’s status was revoked.”

“That’s still a couple of centuries old,” he pointed out.

“I didn’t ask if it was new,” she replied patiently.

“I don’t recall reading one,” he answered slowly as they reached the end of the tunnel, unlocking the next door. “It could’ve been among the tomes ruined by floodwaters.”

Hmm. She really wondered. “How about family gossip?” She picked her way carefully over the cellar floor, hoping she wouldn’t step on anything disgusting—or venomous—with her bare feet, but still unwilling to call Gabriel’s attention to his error in forgetting her boots. “What tales are told of the end days of old House Phel?”

“They aren’t,” he said abruptly. “We don’t talk of the past.”

Maybe Gabriel’s parents would know. “Do you have any living grandparents?”

He bit out a sigh. “No. Do you want to tell me what you’re getting at?”

“Just mulling a few things. In History of the Convocation, my professor emphasized learning from the past to predict the future.” Thankfully they reached the rickety stairs up to the kitchen without anything chomping on her toes.

“We’re still in the process of reestablishing House Phel,” he replied, sounding cranky about it, “and you’re already researching our downfall?”

“Well, clearly I’m not,” she countered primly. “As there aren’t any books to read on the topic.”

“What about in the Convocation archives you mentioned?”

The back kitchen was silent, empty of people. Though the old manse was coming to life, housing more wizards and familiars by the day, Nic had decided to keep the old kitchen in the central part of the house as a staging area. The kitchen in the north wing was being outfitted for the primary meal activities, which she hoped to enhance with magical conveniences. Eventually they could add a kitchen annex to the south wing, too. But it would be best for Gabriel’s temper—and would be in service of keeping the location of the arcanium secret—for this space to remain a glorified pantry.

“I wouldn’t mind taking a look in the Convocation archives,” she mused, eyes and ears alert for trouble. Everyone must be still out front, awaiting Nic and Gabriel’s return with Selly. “It’s your right to access House Phel’s records.”

“Our right,” he corrected, squeezing her hand, then releasing it to rest his on the hilt of his sword.

“Sure,” she agreed easily. “As long as you don’t mind me making a trip to Convocation Center so I can—”

“Out of the question,” he growled. “You’re not going anywhere near those savages.”

That was what she’d thought. She’d have to think of another way. Alise and Nander were enrolled at Convocation Academy and could potentially access the archives, given a seal of permission from Gabriel. If they were willing to help out. Her brother wasn’t likely to do it. A newly minted wizard, Nander was tragically self-involved, not to mention replete with the fundamental laziness of a fifteen-year-old boy.