“He’s brooding and driven,” Nic protested, stung into defending the hero of her adolescent fantasies.
“He’s an ass,” Gabriel declared firmly. “Controlling, self-absorbed, and oblivious to Lyndella’s suffering.”
Nic narrowed her eyes at him. “Have you been reading my novels?”
“I had to do something while not sleeping in Vale’s stall. He has a sneaky tendency to step on you if you’re not watching him every moment.”
Absurdly touched, Nic trailed her fingers over his cheek. “Then you know Lyndella understood and loved her tormented wizard.”
Gabriel was silent a moment. “Maybe she shouldn’t have.”
Nic rolled her eyes at him. “I wonder if Lyndella had to kick Sylus out of his funks occasionally…”
“Lyndella was far too sweet to do anything like that,” Gabriel countered.
Nic snorted, and he laughed. Lifting their joined hands, he kissed the back of hers. “What do you want to do?”
“Well, I think we’re agreed it’s too early in our personal story for the tragic ending to our epic romance, so starving here in the arcanium is a no go.”
“We can go out and fight. That proctor should be easy to kill.” Gabriel simmered with silvery rage. “I’d enjoy that, in fact.”
“And you’d doom House Phel. Murdering a Convocation proctor in cold blood will have them permanently yanking your house status and dividing Meresin up between your neighbors.”
Gabriel looked mulish, so she added, “They’d likely kill anyone with your bloodline, to prevent anyone from Phel popping up again to cause them trouble. They probably already regret they didn’t salt the earth, which allowed you to appear to dig your thorny self into their sides.”
“A daunting thought.”
“You’ve come so far, Gabriel. Don’t give up now. Don’t give the Convocation an excuse to get rid of you before you accomplish your goals.”
He cocked his head. “And which goals might those be?”
“I know you haven’t spelled it out, but I assume you want to infiltrate the highest levels of power in the Convocation and either change it or bring it all down.”
“Both outcomes have their merits,” he admitted.
“All right, then.” She could do this.Theycould do this. “That leaves unlocking my alternate form.”
He gave her a long look. “Except we still don’t know how.”
“I think youmakeme do it.” It made sense, really. As much as she looked forward to discovering her alternate form, the idea of contorting her flesh into a new body made her skin crawl. Maybe it wasn’t something one could make oneself do.
“I haven’t had much luck making you do anything at all,” Gabriel observed wryly.
“You make me do some things,” she purred. “And we both like that.”
He didn’t take the bait. “I wish we could find a way to make this reciprocal.”
“I don’t think it’s physically possible for us both to be tied up and whipped at the same time.”
Not flinching, he gazed at her steadily, but she could tell it took effort on his part not to immediately respond with his usual arguments. “Is that what you think it takes?”
“Maybe?” She thought about all the bits of gossip and innuendo, the romantic tales. “Probably. There are certainly broad hints about interludes like that between Sylus and Lyndella, and others.”
“Why whipping? That’s a serious question,” he said before she could come back with a sarcastic retort.
“Mortification of the flesh? At least the first time, I think you have to take control of my will, then cause me enough pain that I want to leave or change my body.”
His expression tight, he considered that. “I don’t like this.”