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“Rik,” Faustina warned. Tyr hadn’t seen her when he’d come in, but he clocked her in the corner washing linens in a basin someone had elevated for her. She could no longer bend as she could before, so full with child.
He braced through the annoyance building under the surface. “Have you seen any of my translations lying around?”
“Mother didn’t take to her either,” Agnes muttered. “You can always tell with Mother.”
Tyr turned toward her, frowning. “What was that?”
Agnes shrugged. “She was perfectly polite, as she always is. That’s how you know. If she’s all pleasantries, no enthusiasm, she’s putting on a front so as not to hurt someone’s delicate feelings.”
Tyr laughed so Agnes wouldn’t see she’d struck a nerve. He wasn’t the only one who had noticed their mother’s cool reception then. “Well, she’s not my girlfriend, so it’s really nothing to me, is it?”
“Whatever happened with Ana?” Rikard asked. He’d propped himself against the wall for an ale break. “And is her ox of an uncle in our tavern these days related or coincidence?”
“Rikard,” Faustina practically hissed.
“Nothing happened,” Tyr muttered. He didn’t address the Grigor question because he didn’t know either and was tired of guessing. “Because it was nothing. Have you seen any of my work lying around or not?”
Agnes shrugged. Rikard returned to his dishes.
“Great. Thanks. So very helpful.” Tyr rolled his eyes and exited into the tavern proper. It had already been cleaned, the chairs stacked on tables and the floor mopped. He stepped carefully through the maze of still-wet spots and ducked behind the bar to search.
He’d finished rifling through several shelves, to no avail, when a hard creaking sound drew his attention back to the tavern floor. He slowly stood, scanning the tables, and then he saw her.
Magda. Ana’s stepmother. She’d chosen the same corner table Ana had been sitting at the night she’d captured his heart. But there was nothing welcoming about the way she hovered, like a gargoyle. No softness in her expression nor life in her unblinking eyes. When her mouth parted, he could have sworn there were fangs.
He’d noticed none of those things in the market, and he wondered if it was a trick of the light.
More than that, though, he wondered why she was there at all.
“We’re closed,” he tried to say, but the words emerged as a series of embarrassing squeaks.
Magda watched him in silence. She sat in such absolute stillness, he almost questioned whether she was there at all.
“Stewardess Wynter, I apologize, but we’re closed for a private event.” This time his voice was strong and true, and it emboldened him to step out from behind the bar. He glanced toward the back room doors, where his siblings were still engrossed in their cleanup efforts. “But I could... Ah, I could pour you an ale if you wish?”
Magda didn’t respond. She finally blinked. Her head fell slightly to the side.
A shrieking sound echoed through the tavern as she pushed back from the table, still ramrod straight and staring right at him. With her face turned his way, she moved sideways toward the door until she was standing right in front of it. Her mouth opened and kept opening, until it was so wide, it seemed her jaw had come unhinged. Like that she stayed for several excruciating moments, wherein Tyr stopped breathing altogether.
Magda’s mouth closed. She grinned and reached for the door behind her, then opened it without breaking his gaze. Her gait was sluggish, almost a shuffle, as she backed herself out of the tavern.
And then she was gone.
Tyr rushed forward and dropped the barricade over the door. He felt her, just on the other side, waiting. He couldn’t say how he knew for certain, but he had no doubt she was still there, still watching him.
Tyr sagged, gasping for air in silent, greedy gulps he prayed she couldn’t hear.
He waited there until he felt her slow retreat.
It was another hour before he’d calmed enough to continue his search for the letters.
Ana fought every instinct she had and walked past her father’s apartments, continuing until she reached her own. Once she was certain Magda wasn’t lurking in some corner, eager to frighten her, she bolted the outer door. She waited for her heart to slow and her mind to calm.
She withdrew the stack of letters from underneath her cloak, but it was Adeline she was thinking of. The young girl cornering her was another problem to add to the ever-mounting pile. A ratherlargeproblem, but she could only solve one at a time.
Addy had promised not to tell, but for how long? Secrets were delicious at fifteen, and as far as secrets went, Ana’s was a particularly juicy one. Addy and Tyr were inseparable. He cherished her above his other siblings.
If Tyreste were to find out, Ana prayed it was after she was long gone from the world.
