At Any Cost (5 page)

I’ve lived long enough to become bored with people… My duties demand my attention.
True again, she supposed, though he’d been unclear about what those duties were. Perhaps that was what a king did for a bit of fun when he got old and bored. Pretended to be someone else in order to charm an unsuspecting young woman and laugh about it later.

Her mood darkened, but she faked a smile, answered questions, and pecked at a meal she had little interest in.

“So Albion, this is your daughter?” the king asked, loud enough that she heard him clearly.

Maggie’s attention snapped to her father, who sat next to the governor’s wife. His shoulders tightened visibly, but his voice betrayed nothing. “She is. Shall I call her over for an introduction?”

“No. Let her finish her meal.”

Other conversations had died at the question. Anyone who knew Ernis Albion was familiar with his thoughts on Tyrea and his mistrust of their king. He was the only person on the island old enough to remember Ulric as a rash young man, and his opinion of him hadn’t changed much in the century since their first meeting.

The governor’s son John leaned in, eager to be included. “Maggie’s the most eligible young lady on the island, of course,” he told Ulric, and turned to grin at her. “I’d say her poor father has quite the time keeping the fellows away. She’ll make someone a fine match.” John himself possessed middling magic—enough that he’d made his own advances, but not enough to earn him a spot at the school.

Maggie flinched and reached for her wine glass.

Ulric looked over the men who surrounded her, eyebrows raised in a look of disdain. “I can’t imagine why she hasn’t accepted any of you yet.”

Maggie coughed as her gasp sent the wine down the wrong way, sending an unladylike spray of red down her décolletage. Cade took his napkin and dabbed at her chest. She grabbed the cloth away from him.

“I’ve got it,” she muttered, and wished everyone would look somewhere else. She glanced back at the king, who had averted eyes that couldn’t hide his amusement.

“Perhaps you’ve had enough of that, dear,” suggested the elder woman a couple of seats down, who reached over and took the wine glass away.

Maggie pushed her chair back. A servant carrying dessert swerved out of the way. His platter tipped, sending a piece of fluffy cake top-down onto the table before her. She sighed and tossed Cade’s napkin on top of the mess. “Don’t worry about bringing another.”

She gathered her skirts and exited the room with as much grace as she could muster, holding back embarrassed tears until she’d located a balcony overlooking the gardens. The late summer sun had settled below the horizon, leaving the edge of the sky streaked with pink and orange. Maggie pressed her hands against her eyes and decided she wouldn’t try to return to the party. Her father would want to leave early, anyway. Crickets chirped in the garden, and she relaxed as she breathed in the richly scented air.

“Lovely to see you again, Gloria.”

She spun and stepped back, and Ulric reached for her hand before she could topple backwards into the fountain below. Her breath caught at the full, unimpeded sight of him. The suit looked even better than the uniform had, and he filled it out perfectly. As a soldier he’d been impressive. As a king, he made her tremble. Lies or not, enemy or not, her heart leapt at the sound of his voice.

“Your highness,” she said curtly, refusing to let her body’s response to him overtake her more rational thoughts. “I can’t tell you how surprised I am to see you.”

He bowed slightly. “I hope it wasn’t too much of a shock. I confess that I nearly choked on my own wine when you walked in.”

“At least you didn’t have to find out you’d accidentally flirted with a foreign king.”

He nodded. “That wouldn’t go over so well in some cultures if I tried it.”

She smiled in spite of herself, but the irritation she’d built up over supper demanded to have its say. “What was that about, then, back at the market? Do you do it a lot? Should I be insulted you didn’t bother tumbling me before you went home like you probably do the other girls you meet when you’re just a soldier?”

His lips narrowed. “It’s nothing like that.”

“You lied to me.”

“You lied to me, as well, Miss Albion. And I only lied about the things you were happy to assume based on my uniform.” He stepped closer to the railing and drew a deep breath. “The truth is that sometimes it’s not safe to be myself, so I travel with my men as one of them. A Sorcerer with a gift for changing his face poses as me, and no one pays much attention to the guards who surround him. I thought you’d recognized me, and wanted to make sure I was wrong. That’s why I came after you. You obviously had no idea who you were speaking to, so I made up a name. There’s nothing more to it than that.”

“And the food? The conversation?”

He watched the light playing over the clouds as the day slipped away. “I wasn’t trying to get anything from you, though you gave me so much.” His long fingers tightened around the railing. “I liked you. I liked your boldness, how you didn’t turn into a quivering mess when faced with danger, and the way you asked about me and not about the king. I liked that you seemed to find me interesting even though you didn’t know who I was.”

Her irritation faded. “I suppose I can understand that.” Hadn’t she wished for the very same thing, and been grateful to find it in Max?

A smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “I suppose you can, at that. Are the Sorcerers here always like that? Drooling and flattering?”

She thought back to the students who had taunted her when they were young, then expected her to swoon when they decided it was time to settle down. “Sometimes they’re all right. Sometimes they’re worse.” She bit her lip to hold herself back, but couldn’t stop the words. Something about him, even as a king, made her want to be known and understood. “It’s just that they live their lives and have their adventures, and it seems I’m an afterthought. Like they’d be settling for me.”

He frowned. “I hope I was never that deplorable in my younger days.”

She didn’t have an answer for that.

“I should get back before they think I fell into the toilets,” he said, and cleared his throat. “I’m glad you were here tonight. I wanted to see you again, to explain. To tell you that the afternoon we spent together was the most relaxed and pleasant time I’ve spent in decades or more. You truly are extraordinary. I only wish circumstances allowed me to know you better.”

“I enjoyed it, too.” Her voice caught, though she couldn’t say why. The loss, perhaps, of the man she’d thought he was. “I’m glad to have met you, as well. Or to have met Max, I suppose.”

He smiled sadly. “Same person, false name. Can you say the same?”

“I can. My lies were by way of omission. I am exactly who I was that day.”

Ulric glanced back toward the house as laughter drifted from an open window a level below. “Imagine if your father knew about this.”

Maggie shivered. “Not even worth contemplating.”

She looked up at him. The lights burning in the garden cast strange shadows on his face that made him look weary, but no less beautiful. “I’ve been thinking about you,” she confessed. “I watched for you at the market, but you didn’t come back.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Hoping for another lamb wrap?”

Her mouth went dry. “Hoping for the kiss Max almost gave me, I think. Or was I wrong about that, too?”

“No.” His voice grew so low as to be nearly inaudible. “He would have given it to you if he’d been real. I’ve thought of you, as well. Wondered who you really were, why you’d pleased me so well when people who are raised to be refined and interesting have displeased me for so long. Wished I could have been Max for just a little longer without hurting you, just to see what it would be like to live a normal life and be free to pursue what I wanted.”

She stepped closer and brushed her fingers over the back of his hand. She knew she shouldn’t, but couldn’t stop herself. The pain in his voice was no lie. She’d never considered the idea that a great person, one already captured in her history books, might wish to be otherwise.

“You’re not afraid of me now that you know who I am?” he asked. “I wasn’t lying when I said the king could be horrible. I know your father’s opinion of me. He’s not wrong.”

“I believe you. I just…” For some reason she felt she might cry. “We’re nothing alike, but I can’t say I’ve ever felt like anyone understood me as you did that day. We had this connection, even though we lied about who we were. I think the lies made it more real, actually. It’s reality that feels false, like you can’t possibly be the king.” He turned to face her, and she forced herself to look up at him, dangerous though it felt. “You’re not like the rest of them.”

He brushed her hair back as he had in the alley, but this time his fingers traced their way down her throat, moving across the low neckline of her dress. Her heart pounded as his hand moved to the small of her back and he pulled her closer. “I know exactly what you mean. I don’t know what it is about you, Magdalena Albion, but you make me want to do terribly foolish things.” His eyes burned as he looked her over, taking in the dress that hugged her curves, lingering on the expanse of exposed skin above it.

“Terribly foolish,” she repeated as her hands reached out, hesitated, then touched the back of his neck. Such a simple gesture, and one she felt certain would get most people killed. Her heart slammed against her ribs, and her breath caught in her throat as he tangled his fingers in the hair at the back of her head and pulled her closer.

His lips were as soft as she’d imagined, his kiss more forceful. She pressed herself against him and pushed up onto her toes. All thoughts of the rest of the world washed away under the sensation of his mouth against hers, his hands sliding over the small of her back. At dinner he’d seemed refined, even disinterested in the meal. But here, with her, he made no effort to hide his hunger.

Fear mixed with her desire as their kiss deepened, as his tongue parted her lips with that same gentle force. This was not a man accustomed to being denied anything. The idea should have sent her running, yet all she wanted was for the governor’s mansion to disappear, to find out where this might go, to ignore reality for as long as possible.

Against the protestations of her body, Maggie pulled back. For the briefest moment Ulric held on, and then released her. She stepped back and placed a hand lightly over her mouth as she drew deep breaths to ground herself. The kiss had left her lightheaded and disoriented. Ulric leaned back against the railing and looked down at his feet.

“This can’t happen,” she said when she’d found her voice again. “It’s too dangerous.”

“For both of us, no doubt.” He didn’t sound concerned, but added, “I hardly think your father needs more reason to hate me. Even if he doesn’t hold power here, he has great influence.” He squeezed his eyes closed. “I shouldn’t have come out here, yet I can’t seem to walk away. What do you make of that, my dear regular person?”

Maggie crouched and rested her face in her hands, the full skirts of her dress pooling around her. The unfairness of it all pained her. If not for his position, he would be perfect. Charming, gorgeous, powerful but willing to humble himself for her, drawn to her though he cared nothing for her father’s good graces.

And married,
she added to herself, and the thought threw cold water over the fire in her blood. She forced her mind to focus and remember what she’d read. Of course he had a queen. But if she recalled correctly, there were more wives. Hadn’t she and a few young Sorceresses once been disgusted by that fact? Marriages of political convenience, she assumed, as happened in so many lands. Surely the king they had discussed couldn’t be the same as the man who had just kissed her.

She couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t remember.

He rested a hand on her shoulder, which she shook off as she stood and stepped away from him. Did he have children? She couldn’t remember reading anything at all about that, as their births would likely have been too recent for her general interests. Her knowledge of history was useless when the present stood before her, his hand stretched out, waiting for her to speak.

“I suppose you should get back,” she said. The cool distance in her voice pleased her.

Ulric searched her gaze, which she refused to turn away. He swallowed hard and nodded, then pulled his hands through his long hair. “Of course. Just tell me you’re not saving your foolishness for any of those fellows in there. You deserve better.”

She didn’t smile. “Good evening, your highness.”

She forced her eyes away from his, from the loneliness and confusion she saw there, and retreated again. When her father came looking for her an hour later, he found her asleep on a settee in the parlour. He didn’t ask where she’d been, and had no need to ask why she didn’t want to return to the party.

They climbed into the carriage without discussing the dinner. She glanced down at the front of her dress, where a few stains showed against the dark fabric. When she closed her eyes, she felt warm fingers tracing the skin above, and shifted uncomfortably as she tried to erase the image of his face from her mind.

The night was filled with dreams, pleasant and dangerous, in which there was no dinner party, no guests. Only the two of them, a balcony, and all the freedom in the world.

M
aggie tried to forget
. After confirming the existence of several wives and discovering that this arrangement was, in fact, expected of any Tyrean ruler, she returned her history books to the library and vowed to put Ulric and his affairs out of her mind.

I’ve had worse heartbreak,
she told herself as she shelved the last volume and slipped out of the school library. She’d waited until long after everyone else was in bed, not wanting to answer questions.
It wasn’t a relationship. It was an attraction. I don’t care about him.

She almost convinced herself. Even when he invaded her dreams with his regret-filled eyes or his knee-weakening kiss, she told herself it didn’t matter. She forced herself to forget Max, the man beneath the king’s mask. When she wondered whether he still thought of her, she found something else to occupy her mind.

Maggie didn’t have to study mathematics to know that two conversations plus one bad case of physical attraction plus one kiss that never should have happened could never equal love. It didn’t matter what she thought she’d seen in him, or whether she believed he regretted the choices he’d made and the life he’d led. He could never be Max, any more than she could be Gloria. Even if he cared for her as though she were the only woman in his life, it would always be a lie.

As the months went on she learned to let go, convincing herself he wasn’t as charming or as interesting as she remembered, that she’d only be disappointed if they met again. It had been a silly, if intense, infatuation that would only have led to trouble if she’d indulged it. She made an effort to meet more people, to let them get to know her away from her home, and found a few young men who turned out to be quite pleasant.

Not intense. Not mind-meltingly attractive and dangerous. But pleasant.

When Rashel accepted her beau’s proposal early in the autumn, Maggie threw herself into preparations, using every spare moment to assist with planning. Exhausting herself and collapsing into bed left little room for wandering nighttime thoughts.

As the date of the wedding approached, a chill came into the air on the island. Rainy days and fog did nothing, however, to mute Rashel’s enthusiasm or Maggie’s willingness to be dragged on every errand in town.

“You’re sure about the timing?” Maggie asked. “An autumn wedding?”

Rashel looked down from the chair the dressmaker had her standing on. “Oh, definitely. Van and I are too excited to wait, and the leaves will be so beautiful in a month.” She glanced over her shoulder at the window, where light drizzle dampened the air. “I do hope this lifts so we can have the ceremony outdoors like Emalda suggested. But yes. Autumn. Soon. No matter the weather.”

The dressmaker ignored their chatter, but motioned for Maggie to come closer and hold up a swath of shimmering golden cloth while she pinned the folds of the skirt.

“People are going to talk about the timing, Shel.” Maggie winked at her friend. “You sure you don’t want to leave some room in that bodice?”

Rashel giggled. “I know. Not that it would be the worst thing that could happen. I’m just impatient, I guess. He makes me happy. Why would I want to put off being with the man I love?”

Maggie forced a smile. “I’m so happy for you.”

Rashel beamed. “It will happen for you too, Mags. You’re going to find a man who sees in you everything that I do, who loves you for all the right reasons. Maybe he won’t be the Sorcerer some people expected, but you know your father will be pleased and proud as long as you’re happy. Love will find a way. You’ll see.”

Maggie wrinkled her nose. “True love at any cost, right?”

“Exactly. So what if your kids turn out to be mediocre little imps who can’t use magic to save their lives. You and I both know that won’t make them any less wonderful. What do you think?”

Maggie released the fabric as the dressmaker stepped back. Rashel held her arms out to the sides as though about to break into a dance. The golden fabric brought out the warmth in her rich sepia skin, and Rashel shone with joy.

“You’re going to reduce that poor man to tears when he sees you,” Maggie said.

Rashel clapped her hands together. “Exactly what I was hoping for. Now, how do I get out of this thing?”

Maggie stepped outside the shop and took shelter under a window awning as she waited for the grumbling dressmaker to disrobe her friend. She suspected it would take a while, given the slow pace and the frequent squeaks as pins punctured skin. As much as Maggie wished her friend all the best, she found she could only take so much rapturous joy at any one time.

“Don’t bleed on that fabric!” the dressmaker ordered, and Maggie leaned over to close the door tight. She closed her eyes and rested the back of her head against the window.

Don’t think about him.

This was why she needed constant motion and distraction. Giving herself orders never made a difference.

No, he’d never declared love. He hardly knew her, and had even said he didn’t believe in it. But he was the one man she’d found, even now that she had broadened her search, who seemed to understand her, to like her in spite of her background, and to enjoy the fact that she wasn’t magical or noble. His eyes had burned twin holes in her memory, unforgettable no matter what else she packed her mind with.

She opened her eyes and imagined for a moment that he stood across the street. She couldn’t guess why she’d be imagining him dressed in a heavy sweater and sporting a beard, or why she’d added the detail of a few streaks of gray in his facial hair.

Or why the image didn’t disappear when she blinked. Her heart leapt, and she stood straighter, taking in the sight.

He lifted his chin and pulled his hat lower over his eyes. Maggie’s hand crept upward, pulling the lapels of her jacket tight against the chill in the air and the intensity of his stare.

Go back into the shop. Walk away now. This will end badly.

She opened the door. “Shel? I’m going to head home. You okay on your own?”

“Sure. Ouch!”

Maggie raced across the street and followed Ulric as he turned away and walked around the corner. She kept her distance, and he didn’t look back. Though her rational mind continued its warnings, something deeper pulled her toward him.

I just want to see whether I was wrong about him. That’s all. Then we’ll be finished.
She knew it was a lie the moment she’d thought it, but it made her feel less foolish.

He turned when he reached the old inn, cut down the alley behind it, and climbed the outside steps to a room on the third floor.

Maggie’s pulse raced before she reached the top, and not from the climb. He held the door open, and closed it after she’d passed into the warmth of a well-appointed room with a crackling fire in the hearth.

He stood with arms folded, still not speaking. The silence stretched until she thought the tension might break her.

“Fetching hat,” she said. “You look like a fisherman.”

He didn’t smile. “Tell me you’re going through hell.”

“Define hell.” She set her bag on the table by the door, ready to grab if she chose to storm out, and stepped closer to the hearth. The fire warmed her hands, but did nothing to calm her as she felt him watching every movement. “I’m not lying in bed pining for a man I never had, if that’s what you’re asking. My life hasn’t fallen apart. It’s gone on, as I assume yours has in your palace and your city and your country.” She shook her head and turned her back to the flames. “Your country. The one you basically own.”

He sank onto the bed and bent to remove his boots, which didn’t fit his disguise. Heavy dragon leather, probably worth more than the inn itself. Still, the rest of the costume was convincing. Had she not dreamed of those eyes every night, she wouldn’t have recognized him.

“That’s good,” he said. “I’m glad to hear you aren’t suffering. Do you want tea?”

“I want to know what you’re doing here. I don’t believe the governor is aware of this visit.”

He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “I came for answers. And to make an offer.”

“I’m listening.”

He motioned toward an armchair, but she didn’t sit. He stood and stepped toward her, graceful as a predator, but this time she felt no fear.

“I want to know whether you’ve wished for me,” he said. “Whether it’s been hard to forget, even though we never had any chance of being together.” He spoke slowly, as though choosing each word carefully before forcing it out.

As though he’d never had to ask such a thing before.

“Yes,” she whispered, and forced her voice to be strong. “If you must know. Why I should feel that way, I have no idea. I don’t believe in love at first sight, but I’ve never felt anything like this for someone I hardly know.”

He grimaced. “I know.”

“We make no sense. You’re married, you’re a king, you’re too old for me by more than a century, you’re my father’s enemy. You’re everything I don’t want. So why do I want you?” She forced her voice to remain steady, though speaking the words frightened her with how real they made everything she’d been trying so hard to deny. The walls she’d carefully constructed around her heart and mind crumbled under the mere fact of his presence.

His shoulders slumped. “I don’t understand it. I’ve tried everything to forget the fact that you made me laugh when I’d forgotten how. I don’t want to remember the garden lights in your hair, or the way you drew me in as though it were the most natural thing in the world. I’m an old man, Magdalena. I learned years ago to control myself around a pretty face and a fine figure, and I’ve managed to keep every relationship of this nature distant or formal. But you…” His brow furrowed. “How does a woman without any magic enchant a Sorcerer king?”

Enchanted,
she thought. Such a fine word for the way she felt at the sound of him speaking her name. She decided that she didn’t want him to call her Maggie. Her name spoken by him wasn’t formal and oversized as she’d always thought it, but a sparkling jewel of infinite value. She wanted him to say it again, to whisper it into her ear. She didn’t believe in fate any more than instantaneous love, but clearly there was nothing rational at work here. Each step she took toward him felt right.

Like destiny.

She cupped his jaw in her hand and rose onto her toes, and he bent to meet her lips. His kiss claimed her, filling her mind with nothing but the sensation of his mouth on hers. It was that night on the balcony of the governor’s house again, but this time she decided that the world outside didn’t matter. Not his past, not her family. Not this time.

Burn bright while you live.

She pressed her body against his and ran her hands over the thick, damp knit that covered his torso. He pulled back long enough to slip the sweater over his head, and she unbuttoned the shirt beneath. Her jacket hit the floor next, and his lips followed the line of gradually exposed skin as she unbuttoned the front of her dress. She gasped as his big hands tore the thin strap of her undershirt, and moaned as his tongue carved a path over her breast, sending bolts of pleasure between her thighs.

She gasped, and he let out a low chuckle.

He knelt and eased her skirt and underthings over her hips, then ran his hands over the curves beneath. He took a deep breath and kissed her inner thigh. “Gods, you’re beautiful.”

She couldn’t answer. Instead she pulled him to his feet and drew him toward the bed.

I may live to have a thousand regrets in my short life,
she told herself,
but this will not be one of them.

Ulric let her fall back on the blankets, and she watched as he shed the rest of his clothing. He glanced at the fire, which had turned the room into a furnace. With a wave of his hand, the flames disappeared.

“Impressive,” she whispered, unsure whether she meant the magic or his body. “Come here.”

He smiled down at her. “It takes a bold woman to give a king orders.”

Only bold with you,
she thought, and smiled. She liked this version of herself, one who would take whatever she wanted.

She bit her lip and shifted on the bed, letting one leg fall to the side, arching her back slightly. “You’ll always be a lowly soldier to me. Get over here.”

He obeyed.

“
I
have to go home
. My parents will be looking for me.”

Ulric lifted his head from the pillow and glared at the fading light that filtered through the thin curtains. “I could take your father in a fight.”

“Let’s not find out.”

She couldn’t move. She knew she had to, but the urge to stay, to rest beside him and never leave the room was too strong to fight. The world outside would not understand what had happened, and would certainly never allow it to be repeated.

She brushed her fingers through his beard. “This sort of tickles when you kiss me.”

The corner of his lips quirked upward. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t know. I wish we had time to experiment more. Then I could tell you.”

He rolled onto his back. “You can’t leave. I didn’t get the answer I wanted. I’m a determined man, Magdalena. I can wait.”