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“I believe so. I collected a few items—a knife and a ring. Those might tell us something.”
Ilse nodded. She tried to think out the implications of last night—the runners intercepted, the broken code—but her thoughts scattered and whirled in useless confusion. All she could think was that her advice had wrecked everything. Tears leaked from her eyes. She tried to swipe them away, but her hand flopped to one side.
Raul took a handkerchief and did it for her. “What’s wrong? Other than murder and betrayal?”
“I was stupid,” she whispered. “Stupid and reckless.”
He tucked the handkerchief in his pocket and resumed possession of her hands. “You are second-guessing yourself. Yes, we made a mistake—one with terrible consequences, which I see you have thought of.”
“I did everything wrong.”
“Not everything. You lived. I lived. We won’t make the same mistakes again.”
“Just different ones,” she whispered.
“That, Anike, is called life. And you must not brood. I’ve taken measures to guard the house. And by the way, Lord Dedrick returned home safely, if not directly. The watch took him up with the brigands at his heels, and returned him to his father.” His voice turned dry. “Baron Maszuryn wrote to me himself. He has suggested that Dedrick remain within the household until he recovers his senses. I agreed. The streets are not safe.”
The news about Dedrick made it all clear to her. He wanted to encourage her, the way a general or prince would a valued soldier.
What about his words to you outside? whispered her treacherous memory.
It means nothing, nothing, nothing.
That Raul smiled at her again, a strange twisted smile that made his bruises and scars ripple, did not help. “Stubborn woman,” he said. “I was going to make a suggestion, but I see you are in the mood to oppose everything, sensible or not.”
Ilse opened and closed her mouth. Something in his tone pricked at her memory. Then she recalled Mistress Hedda’s warning. “Is it about magic?”
Raul made an exasperated noise. “Ah, that woman. She told you, didn’t she?”
“Of course she told me.”
“She should not meddle so.”
Ilse wanted to observe that he meddled, all the time, but she could not bring herself to make a joke. Not yet. He seemed to read her mood, because this time he leaned forward, so that she could not avoid his gaze. “I am serious about everything I said. You must not blame yourself for last night. And you do have a talent for magic. How much I cannot say, but I do know that I could not have walked home without your help. So I ask you, would you like to learn more? Mistress Hedda is willing to teach you.”
She looked away, then back, unnerved by his proximity. However discolored and distorted his features, this man knew how to use voice and presence and warmth to persuade, and even though she was aware of the ploy, she found herself responding. She frowned, irritated with him and with herself.
“You look suspicious,” Raul observed. “Or have I sprouted wings and scales?”
“Just the scales,” she said weakly. “Green ones.”
He grinned. “Shall I take that as a yes? You could start tomorrow.”
“No. No and no.” Mistress Hedda appeared in the doorway, glowering at him. “My lord, I told you this morning, you cannot rush these things. Mistress Ilse lost a great deal of blood, not to mention her bruised and mangled arm. And the knee, which traipsing about the streets all night did not help. She cannot think of starting magic lessons before ten days.”
“Four days,” Raul countered. “I could hire a mage-surgeon to cure the arm and knee.”
They were arguing over her like cooks in the marketplace, Ilse thought. She also noticed he had not let go of her hands. “Ten days,” she said, extracting them from his. She had the satisfaction of seeing Raul look self-conscious. “When may I start my work?” she asked Mistress Hedda. “My real work, for Lord Kosenmark.”
Mistress Hedda shooed Lord Kosenmark to one side. She touched her warm dry fingers to Ilse’s throat and then her wrists. “Bend the knee.”
Ilse drew her knee up slowly. It twinged, but not as badly as she expected. Hedda nodded, then gently probed the flesh around Ilse’s bandages. “No fever. No sign of infection. Good, good.” She studied Ilse’s face closely, lips pursed, as she considered her patient’s health. “You do sound stronger. Let us revisit the question in four days. By then, the worst bruising will be over, and you’ll have more strength. You were lucky not to injure your writing hand. Lord Kosenmark?”
Kosenmark had taken a seat on the bench. He glanced from Hedda to Ilse and back. “Very well. I would not have it said I bullied her. Have I bullied you?” he said to Ilse. “You must tell me when I press my arguments too hard.”
“That,” Mistress Hedda said, “would be a daily recital.”
Raul rubbed his hand over his mouth. He was frowning, but Ilse could see that his eyes were bright with amusement. “I did not ask you,” he said. “But my secretary.”
