The Evils of Haranshire
Seirye made no gesture or other movement but listened to Lucien, looking intently into his eyes. His reply wasn't what she wanted to hear but it was clear to her that he was doing his best. In contrast the question he asked was surprising and something that she hadn't even considered.
"That spell, I do know it, well at least it's inscribed in my tomes, although I haven't memorized it...," she paused for a moment not knowing how much he understood her arts, "I need to spend time at the start of each day focused on the spells I might want to cast during that day and I am afraid that my skills extend to only learning a few spells at a time and that is not one that would typically bother with." The idea that someone would be her friend, whether it be for real or simply as a result of her arts just wasn't something that she had considered.
Now she felt doubly embarrassed at her failure. She lowered her voice a little not wanting their captives to hear her. "That glamor has its limits though especially since they now lay at our feet as our prisoners, and well-bound. If I was to prepare it, for tomorrow say, and cast it, then there is a chance that they might refute my suggestion that I was their friend."