At Any Cost (9 page)

He chuckled. “Don’t you want to see your own rooms first, find out your living situation before you decide?”

“I’ve already decided. I want you here and now, and forever after.”

She glanced back to find him smiling—not coldly, not cautiously, but with genuine happiness.

“Anything you command, my lady.”

M
aggie slipped silently
from the king’s chambers and wrapped her cloak tighter around her shoulders. She reminded herself again that she needed to have something more suitable made to cover her nightgown during these late-night visits. It wasn’t a question of the cost, but of getting up the nerve to approach the seamstress.

Or anyone.

Maggie didn’t mind being the palace’s resident ghost. On the day of their private wedding ceremony two weeks before, Ulric had presented her with the greatest gift a newly minted recluse could have asked for—the collected works of Tyrean history in leather-bound volumes that covered an entire wall of her sitting room. She’d barely cracked the covers, but had already learned much about her new husband’s rule. So much of the early years didn’t fit with what she knew of him. But then, she reminded herself, a Sorcerer lives more than one lifetime, and people change. If she had anything to do with it, the future of Tyrea would be brighter and better for everyone than the past had ever been.

Ulric visited her frequently, but the queen had picked up on the fact that he doted on his new wife. To keep her appeased, he’d returned to his regular duties and had agreed to a strenuous social schedule. But even when he looked worn around the edges from his busy days, he welcomed her to his rooms. Whether they spent the night in his massive bed without speaking a word, or whether she spent hours prying for first-hand accounts of great battles and events, she was happier than she’d ever been. He asked her about her life, her passions, and her friendships—anything but her father. The loss of her old life stung her, but she had found her purpose. She felt a deep sense of contentment in the tiny world they were creating together.

Late the previous night, after he’d thought she was asleep, he’d whispered so softly she almost missed the words. “It is love,” he’d said, and she’d fought to stay still and not silence him by opening her eyes. “I fear what would become of me now if I ever lost you. To live in darkness without knowing what light is may be difficult, but seeing the sun and having it stolen away would be far worse.” He’d rested his head on his pillow and traced a finger lightly over her cheek. “Gods help me.”

Perhaps my name will never make it into the history books,
she’d thought,
but it’s written on his heart.

The sky outside the colored windows lightened as Maggie hurried down the corridor. Her frequent passage didn’t go unnoticed by servants or guards, but that didn’t trouble her. The few she’d met seemed like good enough people, even if the nobility treated them no better than furniture that had the added benefit of obeying orders. It was the other wives she wished to avoid. Them, and their hangers-on.

And their children.

Three sons lived in the palace. Ulric had waited until late in life to marry and have children. Not all had survived their childhoods. Maggie hadn’t dared pry about what had happened to those who had died, but she had a good idea.

One more reason to avoid that arrogant, white-haired boy.

That—

“Severn,” she whispered, and pulled her cloak closed tighter at her throat.

He leaned against the wall at the base of the enclosed spiral staircase that led to her rooms.

“Good morning, new wife.”

There was room for her to pass, but not without brushing against him. She remained where she was, bare toes freezing on the stone floor, and steeled her mind against him. Without magic, she was as good as defenseless against whatever skills he had, but she wouldn’t make it easy for him.

He flexed his fingers, and her skin prickled. She wondered how his presence would have affected someone who possessed magic. Even with her dull senses, she was uncomfortably aware of him.

And his power will only grow.

“We don’t see much of you around the palace,” he observed. “I do hope no one has offended you. Luid must be very different from… Belleisle, wasn’t it?”

She nodded. Ulric had decided that lying about her country of birth would only complicate things. Still, the story was that her father was a lesser Sorcerer with great power in his lineage—enough to make her a suitable match for the king, but not enough for most people to wish to pry further. Thus far, her father hadn’t given her away. Hadn’t tried to contact her at all, in fact. She hoped it was because he realized the danger, but feared it was because she’d betrayed him. Knowing as she did his feelings about Ulric, she suspected he might never forgive her.

“Everything is perfect, thank you,” she said. Her voice felt small to her, and she cleared her throat. “Strange that we should meet here.”

“Not so strange. I’ve been waiting for hours. You must be exhausted.”

She didn’t answer, and he frowned.

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” he advised. “You may think you’ve won something here, but your victory is temporary at best.”

“I have no quarrel with you.”

He chuckled, and the chill in it sent shivers down her spine. “You’ve been playing so well for someone who didn’t know the game existed.” He stepped closer, still blocking the stairs. She considered bolting back to Ulric’s rooms, but the hard look in Severn’s eyes told her he would cut her down before she took three steps. “I’ve been telling my father for years that your pretty island deserved to be a part of his empire.”

“
Your
empire, you mean,” she whispered, then recovered her voice. “You don’t want it for him.”

Severn shrugged. “It will be mine in time. It’s in my best interest to make sure my father rules well until I take my place. He seemed at least open to hearing my ideas, and then you came along. Did he make you promises about that?”

“You sent those spies to Belleisle, didn’t you?”

“Perhaps. And I paid dearly for it when my father returned from his visit with your governor. Did he see you there? Was he taking out his frustrations on me when I was punished? He was certainly less receptive to my ideas after that journey.”

She didn’t answer.

His lip curled in an ugly sneer. “You may have slowed my plans, but I will rule this land. I will take yours, and I will build Tyrea into the land it should be. I hope you’re alive to see it.”

“Such bitterness from someone so young.”

He looked her over. “I’m guessing not five years younger than you.” His gaze fell on her midsection, and though she remained cloaked in layers of fabric, she felt naked. “I suppose you’re already working hard to produce my competition. Someone you can mould to the ways of your weak, snivelling, powerless homeland. Do you imagine your children will be more powerful than me?”

Yes.

“No.”

Half of his mouth smiled. “You’re lying. And you’re wrong if you think they stand any chance.” He took another step closer. “I’ll let you return to your chambers to clean up and rest before the king wants you again, new whore. But know this. Your presence here is an affront to me, as you have temporarily turned my weak-hearted father’s eyes away from greater things. Your marriage is humiliating to my mother, who watches her husband shower you with affection she believed him incapable of giving. Others see it, too. They talk. Imagine what that does to her.”

Maggie bit her lip to keep from spitting out a retort.

“And your relationship with my father is an offense to Tyrea, to magic itself. My father has been far too kind to the non-magical wretches of this country for far too long, and now there’s you. I can excuse him for using you for breeding, to increase his power.” He stepped closer, shoulders hunched forward, stalking her. “But the fact that he wastes his time with you, that you please him in spite of your irredeemable ordinariness, your horrible accent, and your insistence on holding yourself above everyone here, as though you’re too good for people who are far better than you in every way…”

He stopped himself. “You’re not worth the breath. Just know that you will pay for what you’ve gained by marrying him. Your children, should you manage to spawn anything worth carrying, will never truly be yours. Should they live long enough—and it’s highly unlikely that they will—they will become a part of my work. They will support me as my living brothers already do.” He leaned in, close enough to whisper words she knew would be a dagger to her heart.

She pushed past him before he could speak, and he let her run.

“Enjoy it while you can,” he called after her, and his laugh echoed up the stairs behind her.

She locked the door to her chambers, and felt no safer for it.

W
hen the sun
had fully risen and the palace was awake, Maggie slipped into her cloak again and took the back corridors out to the garden. She felt the stares of the few people wandering the gardens, and ignored the whispers. Her hood shielded her tear-stained face from them—or at least, she pretended it did.

After several missed turns, she found the tiny gate. She held her head high as she approached the guard.
I am not a prisoner.

“I wish to visit the temple.”

“As you please,” he said, and bowed slightly as he held the gate open for her.

She held the hem of her skirt high above the ground and ran.

“Hello?” she called as she passed through the archway. No one appeared or answered. Perhaps the priests only came for the king, or for the people of Tyrea who belonged to this Goddess. Never had Maggie felt so far from the spirits of her island.

She sank to her knees beneath the apex of the high, leafy ceiling, and looked up into the soft glow.

“I don’t know who you are” She kept her voice soft, mindful of the fact that she might have been followed. “I don’t know how to speak to you, or what it means to be a goddess. Have you loved?”

No one answered. Maggie sighed. “Please. If you’re there, if you hear me, if you understand my pain, help me.” She let the tears flow over her cheeks. “I don’t know if I’ve made a terrible mistake, but I can’t leave. He needs me, and I can’t help thinking that this is bigger than either of us.” She swallowed hard and looked down. For the first time she noticed that the rough stone tiles of the floor glowed softly. “I said I don’t believe in fate, and I don’t. But I can’t help thinking I’m here for a reason. Ulric needs me, Tyrea needs him, and it seems that by protecting this country I’m at least postponing danger to my own people.”

The words sounded ridiculous as she spoke them. Her shoulders sank. “I’m nobody, I know, but I believe this matters. I can’t tell Ulric what Severn said. If he punishes the boy, I’ll suffer for it somehow.” She looked up into the branches again. “Please help me. Give me strength to stay. And show me a way to stop Severn before he destroys everything his father has built. The history books aren’t much for religion, but I can feel your goodness.” She felt the truth of it in the air of the temple, in her own bones. “Let my presence here change things. Whatever the cost.”

“The Goddess hears honest prayers, no matter who speaks them,” murmured a familiar voice behind her. “Rise.”

Maggie climbed to her feet and turned to the robed figure. “You won’t tell anyone?”

“No. This is between you and her.”

“Will she answer?”

The robe shrugged, and the hood fell further forward, deepening the shadows over an already invisible face. “The only true prayer is ‘Her will be done.’”

The non-answer brought a sense of peace. Maggie looked up to the ceiling again and felt the soft glow infusing her body. The king had found his sanctuary. Perhaps now she’d found hers.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and looked back. The priest was gone.

“One last thing,” she added to the Goddess. “I don’t think it’s time yet. But should I survive here long enough to bring children into the world, keep them safe. Even if I can’t. Please.”

For this there was no answer. Maggie wondered how many others had asked the same here, and had their prayers unanswered.

She breathed deep once more, and with purpose in her step, Magdalena left to face her future.

~
T
he End
~

I
owe so
much to so many people who helped bring this little project to life.

To my first readers, KL Schwengel, Shannon Andrews, and Krista Walsh, thank you for time and your honesty.

To my beta readers (Melinda Vallem, Kat Armstrong Nicholson, Christi Morgan, Justine Blaber, Sharon J. Eastridge, Kirsty Beresford, and Della Albertyn), thank you for your responses, your typo-spotting abilities, and your enthusiasm.

To Sue Archer, thanks for fitting me into your schedule and for your insightful edits. You are a true pleasure to work with.

And to my family, thanks for the support. I know I can get kind of crazy when a new project pops up, but I think this one was worth the insanity.