“Of course, I know,” she replied breezily, covering the twin pangs of emotion—pleasure at his praise and sorrow at being forever only a friend. “But I’m not spinning pretty illusions. You know how high your MP scores are. You’re going to be a powerful wizard and everyone knows it.” Feeling momentarily dizzy, she rubbed her forehead, willing herself to wake up.
Han narrowed those jewellike eyes. “I, however, am a terrible friend. Here I am, wallowing in my petty concerns, when you’re clearly upset.” He touched her cheek, tracing an arc beneath her eye. “And exhausted. I can’t even feel your magic and you have shadows under your eyes so deep you look like someone punched you.”
She jerked away. “Wow, thanks. I’m fine.”
“What’s wrong?” he persisted. “Something happened to drain your magic.”
Restless despite her weariness, she got up and went to her vanity mirror. Han wasn’t wrong, which was all the more annoying. Uncorking the bottle with the Elal grooming imp, she set it loose to improve her appearance. As a familiar, she couldn’t control the imp, but they came prepackaged with basic instructions. In general, the imps did well with cleaning and smoothing hair, and they did fine with clearing skin and removing blemishes and unsightly shadows, stimulating skin to create a healthy glow that was as close to beauty as Iliana would ever get.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Han said softly. “You don’t have to fix yourself up. You look beautiful. I just meant I could see…” He trailed off, and Iliana glanced at him in the mirror as the glowing sprite moved through her wayward curls.
Han had shifted to lie on his side, head propped on one elbow and long legs kicked out to drape over the end of her untidy bed. He looked like a lover might, if they’d rumpled her covers with more interesting activities, those blue eyes catching the light and focusing on her. Except he wasn’t gazing on her with sensual adoration, like she imagined in her fantasies. No, he was making a face, clearly uncertain how to extricate himself from the hole he’d dug.
“I did need to fix myself up,” she replied with a smile, so he wouldn’t worry. “Not because you said anything. I was going to anyway, before heading to the dining hall. Can’t have a daughter of House Ariel showing up for dinner unkempt.”
“Oh, you didn’t eat yet?” He glanced at the clock. “It’s late. If we want any food, we’d better go soon.”
“I fell asleep,” she admitted. “What have you been doing that you haven’t eaten either?”
He flopped onto his back with a groan and a grimace, drawing up one knee. Because he was no longer looking at her, Iliana indulged in running her eyes over his long, lean body as she wished she could do with her hands. Or lips. Better put that craving down deep where the thought-seekers couldn’t get to it.
“A Ratsiel courier ambushed me on my way out of the Testing Tower,” he said to the ceiling. “My mother. Apparently there was a rumor I’d been certified a wizard. I ended up having to exchange half-a-dozen messages convincing her I wasn’t engaged in a prank by denying it, and then another eight or nine in which I promised to do better in making myself into a wizard by tomorrow.”
She winced for him, the grooming imp tickling when she interrupted its work. “I’m sorry, Han.”
“Don’t be. And somehow I ended up talking about myself again. Why did you fall asleep before dinner? That’s not like you. Tell me what happened today.”
“Just be glad you don’t have to attend the advanced studies classes yet.” She tried for sophisticated and world-weary, but sounded a little pitiful.
“The lab practicum?” he asked, sitting up and holding her gaze in the mirror. His pale hair had come loose from his flopping about, a few strands escaping the tie and hanging around his high cheekbones. “What was today’s exercise?”
“You know I’m not supposed to tell you,” she replied.
“Like I’d tell anyone you spilled Convocation secrets,” he snapped, pushing to his feet and coming to stand behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders and squeezing lightly. “You can trust me, Iliana. You should know that by now.”
“I know.” She sighed. She did trust him, with everything in her. She just couldn’t have him. The thought of vile Sabrina taking Han as her familiar made Iliana want to commit bloodshed.It won’t happen,she consoled herself. Han would be a wizard. He just had to be. “We worked on magic transference is all. The familiars had to practice yielding up every drop of magic and the wizards learned to take as much as possible.”
Han glared at her in the mirror, as if it had been her idea. “That sounds dangerous.”
“They had Refoel healers standing by and I was pronounced just fine—like I told you—and was told to eat and rest.”
He held her gaze a beat longer. “Then we’ll feed you. Cork up the imp.”
“It’s almost done. Rushing me won’t help.” And she didn’t want Sabrina and that crew seeing her looking ragged. Han had done her a favor pointing it out.
“This is more than magic drain,” Han decided, scrutinizing her face. “Something upset you. It better not have been Sabrina Hanneil.”
“If it was, neither of us can do anything about it.” The imp had thankfully finished and Iliana decided she looked marginally better. She coaxed it back into its bottle home and corked it again, turning and smiling brightly into Han’s scowl. He stood much too close, so she popped him on the upper chest with the heels of her hands. “Out of my way, you hulk,” she said teasingly.
But he wrapped his hands around her wrists, not budging, searching her face. His hands on the sensitive skin of her wrists and the headiness of his full, focused attention made her heart skip a few beats. “You don’t have to take Sabrina’s abuse,” he said in a low voice, looking dangerous in a way he rarely did. That took her breath away, too.
“Idohave to take however Sabrina decides to treat me,” she reminded him. “As she is a wizard and I’m a familiar.”
“You’re notherfamiliar.”
No, and she hoped she never would be. But she’d still trade places with Han if he turned out to be a familiar and Sabrina was serious about bonding him. “You and I both know I have no recourse.Besides,” she said with stern emphasis when he opened his mouth to argue, “the professor supervised the exercise and there was nothing that crossed the line.”
“Iliana,” he began with exasperation, fingers tightening on her wrists in his frustration, though the contact made her wish he was holding her that way for other reasons, perhaps pinning her wrists to the bed so he could…Don’t imagine it.“We both know that Sabrina is—”
