“Elals,” Jadren muttered. “The only thing worse than an Elal is a female one.”
Tempted to point out the logical fallacy there, Nic nevertheless continued to keep her mouth shut until she passed him off to a cheerful Daisy. Hurrying back, Nic very much hoped Jadren didn’t treat her that way in front of Gabriel. Her wizard wouldn’t tolerate that, and they couldn’t afford to violate the bargain with El-Adrel by harming Jadren or running him off. Gabriel was pacing in the library, hands folded behind his back, a hint of steam in the air.
Sage and Quinn had been busy, and the tall windows that faced over the river had all been glassed in, rain sliding down them in silver rivulets. A fire had been lit and—like a miracle—a couple of cozy reading chairs now sat before it, upholstered in a damask pattern of overlapping silver crescents and full circles over deep blue. A lovely take on the House Phel crest. A matching rug designed on the same theme but predominantly featuring a full moon reflected on water lay between the chairs and cheerful fire. Dahlia had been busy, and was clearly an excellent recommendation. She said as much to Gabriel, who frowned at her.
“What are you talking about?”
“The upholstery, on the new armchairs.” Nic gestured toward it, although it wasn’t as if there was other furniture she could be talking about. “And the rug. Aren’t you pleased with how Dahlia is using the House Phel crest in her designs?”
Gabriel regarded her for a long moment. “Why are you talking to me about furniture and rugs when I know you’re upset about your father’s message?”
She wound her fingers together, knotting them an extra twist. Then she shook her head for added emphasis. “So he told me to drink water. It’s not important.”
“Nic.”
The grief burbled up in her lungs, wanting to break free in a sob. She refused to let it escape, clamping down hard and holding her breath until it starved for air. Once it sullenly subsided, she dragged in a long breath, momentarily dizzy. “I suppose we’ll be shopping for grapes in Wartson, after all,” she ventured, attempting to make a joke of it, and failing utterly, her words plopping to the floor, sodden with heartbreak.
“Nic,” Gabriel said again, but softly this time. He came to her, gently setting hands on her arms. “He’s just angry. Mostly with me.”
“Oh, now there you’re wrong,” she replied on a shuddering breath. “This anger is very pointed. I betrayed House Elal and disappointed him in the worst possible way. He’s letting me know that I’m cut off. I’m so sorry, Gabriel.” The tears wanted to well up again, so she turned her head to stare into the fire, willing it to burn the sorrow away.
“What are you sorry for?”
“I’ve jeopardized House Phel. Through my fears and foolishness, I have destroyed your financial future and your strongest bid for status in the Convocation. House Elal will never ally with you. All of this is futile.” She tried waving her arms wildly to demonstrate all of their hard work, but Gabriel held her arms tightly, wizard-black eyes intense.
“Listen to me, Nic. None of that is true, and I won’t have you say it.”
“Gabriel…” She laugh raggedly, that terrible sobbing threading through it, attempting to escape another way. She wouldn’t let it. She’d been crying too much lately, being too emotional, and not practical at all. None of this was going how she’d resolved to be. Calm, cool, accepting of her fate and lot in life. “If not for my pride, none of this would’ve happened. Maman always said my pride would be my downfall andlook! I’m right here anyway. I accomplished nothing but harm. If I hadn’t tried to fight you, fight who I am, then we’d have my dowry, an alliance with House Elal, and Papa would still… He would still… love me.” The sob escaped in a great, ugly gulp, the tears breaking like Gabriel’s magic giving way, in a torrent of fetid water. Cries of incoherent grief poured out, and she half expected gobs of algae and water snakes to burst out with them.
“Oh, my heart.” Gabriel picked her up and carried her to one of the new armchairs, holding her in his lap as he sat, big arms wrapped around her. She curled her fingers into his shirt, burying her face against his chest, unable to fight the tears. What a complete wreck she was. And yet he didn’t seem to mind, murmuring nonsense words of comfort, leaning his cheek against the top of her head, enfolding her as if she were something precious. Rain pounded on the roof, pouring down the tall windows in solidarity, and thunder boomed in the distance, an angry counterpoint.
When her internal storm receded, the sobs lessening to stupid little hiccups, shame crawled in to settle cold in her gut. What must her wizard think of her now? “I’m sorry,” she managed, her voice small.
His arms tightened. “Don’t apologize, not for this.”
“But I—”
“I forbid it,” he cut in decisively. “There. There’s me being a commanding wizard. I will not let you apologize for being justifiably devastated by a tyrant’s cruelty.”
That gave her pause. Her mind empty of anything else, she stared at the wing of the armchair where it curved past Gabriel’s shoulder, as if cupping them in a gentle hand. Lifting her finger to trace the pattern of silver moons on the starless blue velvet, she searched for something else to say. “This is really pretty upholstery, though.”
A laugh trembled through him, rumbling under her cheek. “Are those my only options?” he asked gently. “Apologies for events beyond your control or discussions of interior design?”
She smiled, watery though it felt, her nail tracing a tumble of crescent moons. “It’s sweet of you to attempt to take that burden from me, but our current circumstances are entirely my fault.”
“I don’t think anyone has ever called me sweet before,” he mused.
Tipping her head back, she met his gaze, his black eyes soft with affection and sympathy. She must look awful, but he gave no hint of it. Reaching up to cup his cheek, she gave him a wobbly smile. “But you are sweet, Gabriel. Far more than I deserve.”
“You deserve a great deal more than life has given you,” he replied somberly. “And your father’s actions are his own. You are not responsible for what he does.”
“If I hadn’t—”
“You made the choices you did for good reasons,” he interrupted. “As did I. We both chose paths that led us to this point, here and now. How other people decide to react to that is on them. What you and I decide to do about it going forward is all we can control.”
She considered that a moment. “When did you get so wise?”
His lips twisted wryly. “All that self-excoriating philosophizing.”