“Practical,” she reminded him, but she laughed, pleased when he smiled down at her. “You could use the income from taxes. Don’t look like that. You give them your protection in return—from your army of wizard minions that you’ll provide—and that increased security will be an investment in the trade you’ll be bringing to all of Meresin, along with magical conveniences. You’ll improve their lives, Gabriel.”
“Wewill,” he corrected. But he didn’t sound convinced.
They spent apleasant few hours touring the fields and orchards that surrounded House Phel in a fertile spread of glorious colors, like the full skirt of an elaborately embroidered gown. Nic had never imagined such a variety of produce, the mild weather and copious moisture of Meresin yielding a gracious bounty of crops. She revised her earlier dismissal of Gabriel’s plan to sell fruit for trade, and began figuring what kind of distribution system they’d need to make the trade cost-effective. With central Elal and the other northern lands still in the grip of winter, Meresin stood to make a fortune selling out-of-season produce.
Her joke about the decrepit barge Gabriel had bought to pursue her to Wartson being the flagship of House Phel’s nascent shipping fleet had been more prescient than she’d thought.
“Does Meresin have a shipping port?” she asked Gabriel as their horses circled an unpleasantly fragrant small swamp bordering the bright green of a cotton field. He rode Vale, who pranced and tossed his head as if he’d been stabled and rested for more than a day, and she rode the neat mare Gabriel had bought her in Ophiel, who she’d named Salve.
“No. We have the Dubglass River, which leads to Port Carica.”
“That’s in Sammael.” Though the afternoon sun remained warm before the advent of rain, she had to repress a shiver.
“I’m aware,” he replied in that dry tone she’d begun to learn meant it was a source of aggravation for him.
She didn’t blame him there. House Sammael dealt in punishment, which made them valuable to the Convocation and unpopular with everyone else. The Sammael heir apparent had been one of her suitors, and he’d been as brusque and unpleasant as you’d expect from that family. He’d also been singularly stupid and nicely aged, so she’d had hopes of running circles around him until he died an early death.
Eyeing Gabriel sideways and placing a hand over her ripening womb, she gave thought to their unborn child. She still wouldn’t have had any idea she’d quickened had the Convocation proctor’s oracle head not confirmed it. Difficult to imagine, now, that anyone but Gabriel would be the father, and her husband. She could be pregnant with Sammael’s child, living in forbidding House Sammael. At least, it looked that way in paintings. It could be that House Sammael encouraged a grim representation, and it wasn’t that bad in reality. Still, learning to deal with Sammael as her wizard master would’ve been leagues worse than her current struggles. Given the way he’d treated her at the Betrothal Trials when she hadn’t even belonged to him yet, she doubted even her pregnancy would’ve given him much pause in extracting all he could from her. That near miss made her shudder. It didn’t bear thinking about.
She banished the thought, though not quickly enough to elude Gabriel’s keen insight into her mind.
He studied her. “Washeone of them?” he asked abruptly, darkness coiling into the underside of his silvery magic.
“One of who?” she asked, making a display of looking puzzled.
“The suitors before me. I know there were three, and I know Sammael heir has been searching for a replacement for his lady wife and familiar, who died last winter. He was one of them, wasn’t he?”
“Why does it matter?” She lifted her chin. “It’s my personal business.”
“Your personal business is also mine now,” he practically growled. “Tell me the truth.”
“I hear and obey, master,” she taunted, but it didn’t work to back him off. He simply raised an expectant brow.
“Yes,” she admitted, shrugging it off, and offering nothing further.
“Which one?” Gabriel demanded, far from mollified.
“The first one. I can’t imagine why that information is relevant to you.”
“You know that’s not what I’m asking. You said one of them barely spoke to you at all except to give instructions. Was it Sammael?”
The man had a cursed good memory. It made him a quick study, which was to their advantage, but also a tricky opponent if she wanted to conceal anything from him. “Did I say that?” she wondered aloud, attempting to sound vague.I know you’re an innocent,Sammael’s cold voice echoed in her mind,but no one cares what a familiar has to say. If I want intelligent conversation, I’ll talk to another wizard.
Gabriel reached out with one long arm and snagged Salve’s bridle, bringing them close. “You know you did. Quit playing games with me.”
“I don’t care to discuss this,” she replied through gritted teeth to keep her voice from wobbling. She had been innocent when Sammael took her, in more ways than one, and it had been an abrupt degradation to be used so perfunctorily by him. That moment, perhaps more than any other, had brought home the powerlessness of her new status in life. Feeling the prick of tears in her eyes, she determinedly looked away.
Gabriel narrowed his eyes, swore under his breath, and released Salve’s bridle. That did not, however, signal a reprieve from the interrogation. He swung down from Vale’s back, came over to Nic, and plucked her from the saddle with his easy strength. Instead of setting her down, he held her against him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her in a tight embrace. Despite her resolve to remain regally poised, she dropped her head on his shoulder, surprised to find herself needing the comfort.
“I’m sorry,” he said raggedly, and she nodded against his shoulder.
“It’s of no matter,” she said, her voice coming out small. She’d said that to Gabriel back in her tower, though she’d done a better job then of sounding like she didn’t care.
“It is. I asked.” Gabriel echoed his own reply, making it clear he remembered, too. Finally, he set her down, though he didn’t release her. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “more than you can know, for what you went through.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“In part it is,” he asserted. “I took advantage of the same system that exploited you.”