~17~
Nic paced theround, windowless chamber.It was comfortably appointed, all the furnishings the very finest, as they were at House Elal.The preponderance of black was a bit off-putting, but there were all the conveniences one could wish for, including fire elementals to heat the room, air elementals to provide oxygen—necessary without windows—water elementals for grooming and earth elementals to dispose of her waste.That also meant there was no bathtub, no cheerful fireplace, nothing that wasn’t strictly serviceable.All very efficient and completely joyless.
It was a prison cell, after all.
Troubling most of all, it was also not Convocation Center.
She didn’t remember falling asleep.Probably Sergio had used something to knock her unconscious, because she didn’t remember much beyond getting in the carriage and watching House Phel recede in the distance.She’d awakened in this prison cell of a bedroom and known immediately that the Sammael siblings hadn’t delivered her to the Convocation at all.
Given the over-the-top aesthetic of the décor, they’d brought her to House Sammael.
The room reminded her uncomfortably of the tower room she’d occupied at House Elal for those four months until Gabriel arrived as her unwitting rescuer.Indeed, she strongly suspected this room served as the House Sammael Betrothal Trials chamber, and she pitied the familiars of this house who spent their sequestration here.Unlike her old tower, this one had no books, no puzzles or crafts to occupy her hands.She supposed the claustrophobic boredom of the place gave them a powerful motivation to be compliant and conceive quickly.As if that was under their control.
The locked door clicked.Having quickly learned her lesson, she stood well back from it.The wizards that had brought her food and water the last several times had a tendency to jolt her with punishing pain—another indication she was in Sammael—if she stood too near the door.
There were no clocks in the room—apparently those weren’t considered necessary to sustain life—but it seemed like the wrong time for the delivery of the adequately nourishing and totally boring meals.The lack of time also meant she wasn’t entirely sure how many days she’d been kept captive.Maybe three, counting by fairly predictable routine.This visit was at the wrong time, she was sure of it, which did not bode well.
Sure enough, Sergio Sammael swanned into the room, smug smile distorting his handsome features as he looked her over.“Darling Veronica, you’re looking lovely.”
Nic plucked at the revealing black slip of lacy lingerie she’d been wearing when she awakened, her dress gone and no other clothing options available.At least they’d taken the collar off, too.“The latest fashion at Convocation Center?I must be behind the trends.”
Sergio smiled thinly.“You belong to me now, so you will wear what I please.”His gaze raked her with lewd interest, leaving her feeling soiled.“And your current apparel pleases me greatly.Mind your tongue, familiar, or I’ll keep you entirely naked.”
The threat worked all too well, and Nic bit her tongue, much as she wanted to point out that, in no permutation of Convocation law, did she belong to the odious wizard.
Appeased, Sergio glided toward her.“I’ve come to service you.”His black eyes glittered with malicious glee, and she took an involuntary step back, hitting the curved wall of the small room immediately.“Not that,” he snapped, though his gaze dipped to her scantily clad bosom.“Not until you’re a bit moretame,” he added silkily, absently fingering his bruised and bloodied lip.
He’d tried to embrace her in the carriage, and she’d fought him, managing to land several punches along with a bite on his lip.Sergio, a coward at heart, eyed her warily.He’d managed to immobilize her with pain so searing she’d dropped to the floor, unable to breathe—probably that’s when she’d passed out—but he clearly hated experiencing any pain himself.There was a reason Maman had recommended him for a potential match.If Nic had been bonded to him, she could’ve found ways to use his fears and weak will against him.
She also would’ve suffered greatly in his hands, which she had no intention of doing now.She might be his prisoner, but she was far from helpless.
“I’ve come to tap your magic,” Sergio informed her.“You must be needing thereliefby now.”He managed to make the word sound dirty.His wizard-black eyes glittered with lascivious greed.
“You can’t,” she replied firmly.“I’m a bonded familiar.My magic belongs to Lord Phel.”
“Your former master is dead,” Sergio spat.“We both know that.You weren’t even clever about how you tried to conceal that from me, but I knew before we arrived.Such a pity House Phel commands so little loyalty from its minions.Sammael would never tolerate such latitude.”
Nic swallowed back the bile and bitter hatred at Laryn’s betrayal.And what had it gained the other woman beyond Nic’s misery?Nothing, so clearly that single goal had been enough for Laryn.It was difficult to grapple, being hated that much, but it also wasn’t her biggest problem at the moment.“If Lord Phel is dead—” She didn’t, couldn’t, believe it.“—then why am I still bonded to him?”
“Are you so sure you are?”He sounded pitying, insinuating that she didn’t know her own mind.
“Yes.I know the bond survives, because my wizard is not dead.”At least, he hadn’t been when she was taken away.And now that they’d been separated by such a distance, she couldn’t sense the bond between them at all.Something she tried not to dwell on.No sense losing her mind sooner than necessary.
Sergio waved that off as of negligible importance.“Comatose, then.An unoccupied corpse kept alive by Refoel magic, delaying the inevitable.Your wizard’s spirit has already escaped his cage of flesh, and no amount of Refoel magic can put it back.Eventually that husk of an upstart wizard will cease to function.”He leered at her, looming closer.“And guess who will be right here to bond you when that happy moment arrives?I will never be so weak and incompetent as to allow another wizard to steal you away, rest assured.”
Nic was proud of herself for refusing to flinch—and declining to contemplate the scenario the vile Sammael wizard painted.Gabriel would live.He had to live.She would continue to believe.Otherwise, the despair would break her.
Sergio nodded, taking her silence for assent.“You may as well accept the inevitable, Familiar,” Sergio crooned, his version of being charming, oily as it was.“You have always been destined to be mine.I was your first suitor, after all.”
“That didn’t work out so well for you,” she pointed out coolly.“As Wizard Jadren noted, you had your shot and failed.”
Petulant irritation contorted his face.“A chance of fate, of passing importance, and now remedied.That same fate has ensured I’ll be yourlastsuitor.You are pregnant, so when you are mine, the child will be, too.An heir to follow me in leading House Sammael to glory.”
The prospect of her and Gabriel’s child growing up in this travesty of a family made Nic feel sick—and frightened her more than any of his other threats.She wouldn’t let it happen.Even if she had to crawl back to her father, beg him to forgive her, she’d protect this child.“I will never be yours.”
Sergio tsked, making a show over looking around her prison.“Your intelligence sadly lags behind your MP scores.You alreadyaremine.”
“I am a prisoner, apparently, in House Sammael—but this is illegal.Clearly there was no warrant.The Convocation will never stand for—”