At Any Cost (4 page)

“
S
o then he
walked me home, and he kissed me.”

The love-struck wonder in Rashel’s voice made Maggie smile in spite of the task at hand—washing bowls that had held bandages used to clean up a mess Maggie hadn’t had the stomach to look at. Her father usually managed to keep his students in check, but once every few years one of them would attempt magic that was far beyond his level, and the consequences were often disastrous. This time a piggish young man by the name of Sam Glinkwell had attempted to transform into a wolf. He’d lived, but become trapped half-way between. Emalda had been run off her feet all morning trying to stem the bleeding from unfinished limbs while her husband consulted with various professors on how best to deal with the situation.

“How was the kiss?” Maggie asked, then grimaced as she dumped another batch of bandages into the fire bin. They smelled of blood and wet dog. A howl echoed down the hall, and she closed the door to the little utility room.

Rashel grinned. “Amazing. Soft. Warm. Not even a little slobbery.”

“You really like him, don’t you?”

Rashel shrugged and went back to work. “He’s okay.” She bit her lip. “Yeah. I like him. But what about you? You disappeared from the party, and then you were gone forever.”

“A week and a half.”

“Close enough. Was Tyrea strange?”

Maggie considered the trip. After that first day at the market, little had seemed remarkable. They’d returned there a few more times, making the trek back to Dorin’s house each night so Emalda could properly preserve her finds. Maggie hadn’t offered to help with anything more than the most basic purchases of equipment, but it had been excuse enough to wander the market and the few streets beyond, hoping to spot a flash of green among the crowds. It seemed that the king and his men had moved on, though, and she hadn’t wanted to ask anyone about it. The next person who thought she was taking too much of an interest might not have been as understanding as her soldier.

Not mine,
she corrected herself. They’d had a nice moment. A few of them, actually, but that’s all they were. Possible kindred spirits passing through the world.
I’ll never see him again.

Rashel reached out a soap-covered hand and pinched Maggie’s arm. “You in there?”

“Sorry. It was a little strange, but not in a bad way. Mostly little differences. I like the way they speak there. I thought they’d be mean to us, but as long as we had money, they were happy to do business.”

“Gold speaks louder than any accent,” Rashel observed.

“Coming back home was stranger than being there.” Maggie felt an uneasy chill as she remembered their return. “When we crossed the bridge, the men who stopped us seemed agitated. On edge. Like we might be enemies.”

“It’s their job to be suspicious,” Rashel noted. “Maybe they were new and just didn’t recognize you.” She brightened. “Hey, you found men who don’t know who you are. Were they attractive?”

Maggie tried to smile at Rashel’s lighthearted tone, but barely managed it. “It wasn’t that. They were worried.” The idea that it had something to do with the Tyrean king’s presence so close to the strait had crossed her mind more than once. But if the island were under attack, she’d have heard of it. Everyone would have, yet life at the school and in town went on as it always had. It was nothing, she decided. Leftover nerves from her strange encounter in Tyrea.

“Did you ask your father about it?”

“He hasn’t been here to ask.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes, until Maggie caught Rashel watching her.

“What?”

“There’s something else you’re not telling me, and I don’t think it has anything to do with your father or an odd welcome back to the island.”

Maggie bit back a smile. “I met someone. Sort of.”

“You didn’t! Someone from here, in Tyrea? You mean you met someone, or you
met
someone?” Rashel gave up on rinsing bowls and stared. “And you didn’t bother to mention this first thing instead of letting me blab about the party and my new fellow?”

“He’s not from here. He was a local. There.” Maggie stumbled over her words, realizing how stupid the whole thing would sound if she tried to explain it. “Not someone I’ll see again. I don’t know why I mentioned it.”

Rashel’s nose wrinkled. “A Tyrean, though. Did anything happen?”

“No. We just talked. It was nice. He seemed to understand me somehow, even though I lied about who I was. I think he liked me. He was with the king’s guard, though, so—”

“Wait. No.” Rashel dried her hands and crossed her arms. “Mags, are you insane? You don’t just meet a Tyrean soldier and have tea.”

“Lamb wraps, actually.”

Rashel clucked her tongue. “I’m sure he was handsome and strong as well as nice, right?”

“And dashing.”

“You said you lied about your name?”

Maggie nodded.

“Thank the spirits for that.” Rashel stacked the clean bowls and motioned for Maggie to open the door. “And for the fact you won’t see him again. Think what would have happened if you’d gone off with him and he turned out to be only pretending to be nice.”

“Like the men I meet here?”

Rashel frowned. “The fakers you meet here won’t hold a sword to your throat, drag you into the woods, and leave you dead when they’re done with you.”

Maggie sighed. “I know it was stupid. Maybe I was lucky he was so kind to me, but he… never mind. You’re right. It was interesting, anyway.”

A deep frown creased Rashel’s forehead. “I worry about you. We’ll talk more later?”

Maggie lifted the fire bin and tried not to inhale as she carried it out of the room. “I’d rather talk about your little adventure. I’ll want all the details.”

Rashel turned toward the infirmary, where the howling had died down. Maggie went the other way, holding the bucket at arm’s length as she made her way toward the door to the yard.

“Magdalena.”

She stopped at the sound of her father’s voice and set the bucket down. “How’s the patient?” she asked as he approached.

“Better. He’s human again, at least. Traumatized, weak, but he seems intact. Emalda should be able to handle him tonight.”

“Excellent. Father, is everything all right?” She looked hard into his eyes, which seemed to have developed new lines around them since she’d last seen him.

His tight smile did nothing to ease her nerves. “I think so.” He motioned for her to step closer. “We had some concerns while you were away about Tyrean spies.”

Her heart skipped. “Here?”

He shook his head. “The west coast. When they were caught, just after you left, they claimed they were seeking to leave Tyrea and settle here. But nothing about their story made sense.”

Maggie swallowed back the lump in her throat. There had been danger, and she and Emalda had likely narrowly avoided it.

“We’ve settled things,” her father added, and rested a hand on her shoulder. “In fact, I came to ask you for a favor that’s somewhat related to all of this.”

“Sorry?”

He smiled, though with no more sincerity than he had before. “Ulric, the king of Tyrea, came himself to investigate the presence of these Tyreans here. Spoke privately with the governor over the past few days, agreed that we should deal with these men as we see fit. He says he didn’t send them.”

“And the governor believes him?”

Albion nodded. “Thaddeus does, yes. I don’t say it’s improved relations between our nations, but he believes Ulric when he says he’ll look into it further when he returns to Luid.”

“You disagree.”

Not a question, but her father nodded again. “I believe Ulric when he says he didn’t send them, but I also believe he knows or suspects more than he’s letting on.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “But for now, we’re to consider the matter settled. Thaddeus is holding a small farewell dinner for the king tonight, and is keeping it as quiet as possible. With Emalda busy with young Glinkwell, I find myself in need of a companion to escort an old man to what should be a terribly uncomfortable evening.”

“How could I say no to that?”

Albion’s smile warmed. “Thank you.”

Maggie wrapped her arms around her father and held him tight, just for a moment. “It’s good to see you again,” she said as she stepped back.

“Likewise. Now, this dinner will be quite formal.”

“I’ll wear my black dress,” she said, and grabbed the bucket. “When do we leave?”

“Late supper. We’ll go after the students eat.”

Maggie nodded and hurried away.

I’m going to see the king after all.
The thought filled her with dread, and she turned her mind to more pleasant ideas. If the king was there, he’d surely have his personal guards with him.
Maybe Max has been here on the island for days. Maybe he’s been hoping to see me. Maybe…

She tried to push the excitement aside. Even if she saw him again, things would be completely different. He’d be working and under the watchful eye of the king. She’d be her father’s daughter, fully visible for what and who she really was.

But the memory of those dark, piercing eyes set her stomach fluttering.

T
all candles lined
the long table in the governor’s spacious dining hall, their light glinting off crystal goblets and fine silverware. Maggie had scanned every dark corner of the house from the grand entryway to the corridor outside the dining room, but had seen no sign of Max. The Tyrean guard from the market with the patch on his eye had given her a once-over (or perhaps a half-over, given his condition), but she hadn’t spotted another familiar face.

Sam Glinkwell had suffered a brief howling spell as they prepared to leave the school, and as a result, Maggie and her father were the last of twenty guests to arrive at the dinner. Everyone else had already been seated around the long wooden table, and they turned as the pair entered. The king’s scar-faced guard watched impassively from the corner, but no other green uniforms came into view as Maggie glanced around the room. All the men stood as she made her way to her seat, and the young man seated next to her hurried to hold her chair as she sat.

“Thank you, Cade,” she murmured. She vaguely remembered the young Sorcerer from his time at the school. He’d been quiet, more reserved than most of his fellow students.

“You look lovely, Magdalena,” he said quietly, and she smiled. She’d taken extra care with her hair, brushing it with oil until it shimmered, leaving it styled loose and curling over collarbones that her dress left exposed. She’d stained her lips pink—not enough to look desperate, but enough to highlight their shape—and she’d darkened her lashes. Max would hardly have recognized her, but she thought he might have been impressed.

“Thank you,” she said again. Let Cade think her effort was for his benefit, if it made for a pleasant meal. She’d expected to be seated near her father, but it seemed the seating had been rearranged when he let them know she was coming. She was surrounded by unmarried Sorcerers, all of them smiling pleasantly even as they appraised her with the ill-disguised interest of auction bidders. As far as Maggie could tell, all but Cade were older, and likely looking to settle down with someone unremarkable.

How nice. This should be fun.

She greeted each of them, and as the servants brought out the soup she allowed her gaze to travel the table. Familiar faces, mostly. She hesitated as she neared the head, remembering Max’s advice about seeming too interested in the Tyrean king. Still, it certainly wouldn’t seem strange for her to look, just to satisfy her curiosity.

She looked away, smiled at whatever the fellow across from her had just said, and let her eyes dart back to the head of the table.

Large hands, clean and strong, rested on the table. Behind that she saw a fine suit, dark blue, undecorated by anything like the blinding array of medals the governor wore across his chest. She chanced a look higher, and her heart stopped as sharp, dark eyes met her own, watching with interest as she took him in. He wore his brown hair loose tonight, hanging over his shoulders. His lips curled into a familiar smile.

Don’t stare.

She couldn’t help it. He looked away and spoke to the governor, who sat to his right, then laughed at something the governor’s wife added to the conversation. Maggie strained to hear what they were saying, but this was a dinner party, not a meeting. Everyone was engaged in quiet chatter as they waited for their food, and she couldn’t make anything out.

“He’s nothing to be afraid of,” whispered Cade, leaning in close. “A bit intimidating though, don’t you think?”

“Just a touch.”

She couldn’t help sneaking glances as the meal went on, but didn’t catch Max—
Ulric,
she reminded herself,
the king
—looking at her once.

She tried to pay attention to the conversation around her, but found herself trying to remember everything he’d said when they met.

I have some magic.
Well, that was an understatement. As Maggie understood it, Tyrea was ruled by whoever held the strongest magic and managed to fight off challengers. Still, it wasn’t exactly a lie.