Wandering Lark by Laura J. Underwood

my comfort and allowed me plenty of time to readjust to this life, which was so different from that I led as a healer in training in my own lands.”
    Turlough sighed and nodded. “I saw your potential, Etienne. You alone have what it takes to replace me when my time comes. You have a good head on your shoulders, so forgive me if I question why you would be so foolish as to dally with my rogue of a nephew and follow his way of thinking.”
    “He intrigues me,” she said. “Love makes us do strange things, they say. Be it follow a man who is a little eccentric or seek vengeance against the innocent for a crime that is not their fault...”
    That brought a glower to Turlough’s brow, but he swiftly changed let it disappear and shook his head. “I still do not understand what you see in him.”
    She shrugged. “And I thought you had given up trying to sway me away from Fenelon. How is he, by the way.”
    “Recalcitrant as ever,” Turlough said and leaned back once more. “I have been forced to send for Gareth.”
    “Really?” she said. “Why? I think Fenelon is a little old for a paternal spanking to be of any use.”
    “Gareth has certain... skills, and his knowledge of Fenelon’s spell casting has made him useful to me.” Turlough smiled. “Gareth is going to hunt down Alaric Braidwine, and either force him to return and face my justice, or kill him.”
    It was Etienne’s turn to frown. “And what makes you think Gareth will comply?”
    “Because his only other choice was to watch his son sundered and executed tomorrow at sunrise.”
    Etienne sat up straight, thrusting the tea aside so that it sloshed over the rim of the cup and splattered the table beside Shona’s bed. “You would not dare,” she said.
    “And what makes you think I would not?” Turlough said. “You and he have committed what amounts to treason against the Council of Mageborn and the Crown of Keltora. Our laws are quite clear where demons are concerned. Any found guilty of consorting with demons will be put to death. Now, quite frankly, you and Fenelon protected Alaric and his demon. You harbored them rather than report them to me and the Council, and that makes you part of the conspiracy.”
    “The only conspiracy I see is the one you are dangerously provoking,” Etienne said. “If it should get out that you have twisted the laws, all to satisfy your insatiable revenge over the death of the woman you loved, I believe you might find yourself seeking other employment.”
    Turlough charged out of his chair, and for a moment, she thought he might actually give in to the urge to cross the chamber and strike her for that remark. But if she had learned anything dealing with Fenelon, it was never to cower from Turlough’s rage. So she held herself stiff as a post, daring him to complete the move with her eyes. Give me a reason to defend myself and prove you are mad, she thought.
    He did not cover the distance, however, but stopped where he was, looking away. “You can still provoke me as easily as Fenelon, but unlike the feelings I harbor against him, I find it difficult to hate you, Etienne.”
    “I’m to be grateful for that, I imagine,” she said.
    “Do you still want to see him?” he asked.
    “You would actually allow it?” she said.
    “Under escort, of course,” he said. “You are still under house arrest.”
    “Very well, but what do you hope to gain from this?” she asked plainly.
    “Some sense,” Turlough said and started for the door. “Come.”
    “Now? What about Shona?”
    “Your healer friend has her ear to the door, I imagine,” he said, and even as he opened it, the healer was there, her face livid. She blustered into the room, head bowed. Turlough looked back at Etienne. “Well?” he said.
    Etienne stood up with what quiet dignity she could muster and followed him out of her quarters. They were met at the entrance of the women’s hall by guards. Mistress Wallace was there as well, looking quite dourly