When it appeared he wanted an answer, she managed a shrug and lifted her plate up into his line of sight. “I have no idea, my lord. Perhaps it’s the beef.”
He blinked, looked down at the food, then laughed and straightened, putting a little more distance between them. “Perhaps it is. I am Jaspyr Hagen.”
The Pack Leader’s bloodline. Her mother would be thrilled. And insufferable. Mirian sent up a quick prayer to the Lord and Lady that her mother wasn’t watching.
“And you are?”
“Mirian Maylin, my lord.”
His nostrils flared again. “Would you share your food with me, Mirian Maylin?”
There were undertones to that question that raised goose bumps on Mirian’s arms and a look in his dark eyes that made it hard to breathe. Mouth suddenly dry, she wet her lips, realized he was watching the movement of her tongue, and thrust the plate toward him. “I would be honored to share my food, Lord Hagen.”
“Jaspyr.” He picked up one of the beef sticks. “Or people will think you’re talking to my cousin.”
His teeth were very white.
Well, of course they were.
“Jaspyr, what are…? Hello!” One of the young men who’d been at the end of the buffet charged around the pillar, and only Pack reflexes kept him from knocking her over. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared. “Wow, you smell amazing.”
“It’s the beef,” Mirian sighed.
Jaspyr laughed again and Mirian felt her mouth twitching in response. When the younger man leaned closer, Jaspyr grabbed his shoulder, turned him away from the pillar, and gave him a little shove. “Go away, Bayor.”
Bayor kept turning until he faced them again, looking startled. “It’s like that?”
“It could be.”
“She has no mage marks.”
“She’s standing right here,” Mirian snapped.
Both men turned to look at her, Jaspyr smiling, Bayor frowning slightly.
“Jaspyr, Ryder wants you to…” The young man racing around the pillar slid to a stop, one hand clutching Bayor’s jacket for balance. His eyes widened and his nose twitched. “Is that her scent?”
Mirian rolled her eyes. This was getting ridiculous.
“Yes,” Jaspyr told him. “It’s her. Now take Bayor and go.”
At first Mirian thought it was Bayor growling, and then she realized the sound came from the far side of the lobby, by the doors.
A woman screamed.
The crowds parted, and a black wolf raced through Bercarit’s finest, straight for Lord Hagen. Claws skittering on the marble, he managed to stop at the last moment and become a young man, covered in mud and bruises, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath.
“Tomas!” Lord Hagen closed the distance between them, gripping the young man’s shoulders.
“The Imperials, they’re across the border.” Voice rough, Tomas sounded on the edge of tears. “Everyone is dead. The 1st, the Hunt Pack. Ryder, they’re using silver!”
Chapter Two
DAWN TINTED THE MOUNTAINS pink and gold, and chaos reigned on the cobblestone street outside Mirian’s parents’ house. Those servants who hadn’t run off to be with family of their own loaded and unloaded carriages and wagons, trying to find room for one more trunk or one more family heirloom that couldn’t be left behind. Children cried, adults shouted, and through more than one open door came the sound of breaking glass.
Mirian, unable to spend another moment listening to her mother scream at her maid, stood on the walk in her traveling clothes tasting I told you so! on the back of her tongue. She wondered if she had time to go to the Lady’s Grove at the end of the street, took two steps in that direction, then decided that with the Imperial army already over the border, it was too late for prayer. Cook had taken the little round Lady of the Hearth with her, but as far as Mirian knew, the Lord’s Regard remained half hidden in the small back garden.
“Do you see him?”
She half turned as her mother came out onto the porch, confused for a moment about which him.
“Your father, Mirian! Do you see your father?”
“No, not yet.”
The circles under her eyes nearly the same green as the tint still on the lids, Mirian’s mother clutched a pair of silver candlesticks closer to her chest. “How could it be taking him so long?”
Mirian had no answer. Not that it mattered.
“We could be murdered in our beds, you unnatural child! How can you be so calm?”
Calm? That would do, she supposed. Although it felt anticipatory, more like the calm before the storm. “We aren’t in our beds, Mother.”
“Why would that matter?”
She looked so distraught, Mirian moved closer to the house. “We’re in no immediate danger. The Imperial army won’t advance further until dawn.”
“You can’t know that!”
“I can; it’s obvious. There was no moon last night, and starlight alone isn’t enough to move men and equipment over unfamiliar ground.”
“Obvious?” The snort had the force of imminent hysteria behind it. “So you’ve decided to be a general now you’ve failed as a mage? Perhaps Lord Hagen should have sent you to the border!”
Mirian took a deep breath and abandoned logic for reassurance her mother would actually believe. “Lord Hagen said the carriages would leave at dawn—all the carriages, his family’s as well—so he must believe the Imperial army won’t reach the city until much later.”
A double blink and a deep breath. Then: “Well, if Lord Hagen believes…” Hysteria averted, grip on the candlesticks visibly eased, her mother ran back inside.
Although the city was by no means calm, Lord Hagen had managed to prevent more than just her mother’s panic. After his brother’s dramatic entrance at the opera house and his declaration of defeat, Mirian knew he’d had mere moments to take control of the situation before it descended into chaos. He’d handed his brother into the care of the red-haired Healer-mage suddenly at his side, looked to his wife, and said levelly, “Can you be ready to leave for Trouge by dawn?”
Lady Hagen had nodded. “I can.”
She’d made certain their voices had risen above the shocked silence and filled all the available space, leaving no room for panic to grow into.
The Pack Leader had swept a calm gaze over the watching crowd, his tone and body language declaring, I am in control of this. There is no reason for you to fear. Common sense said at that point he was in control of nothing save his own reaction, but, even knowing that, Mirian had felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
“Carriages heading for the capital will leave at dawn. The Trouge Road will be closed to all but foot traffic until then. Go. Make ready.”
Had he not made it clear his family would remain in the city, the wealthy would have rioted. Although no one had asked for her opinion, Mirian thought his reasoning was sound. Panicked drivers in fast carriages on a narrow, winding road at night could only be a recipe for disaster. One accident would block the way and destroy any hope of an orderly evacuation.
Now, it was dawn and then some. Mirian wondered if Lady Hagen had left yet.
She could see nearly to the boulevard by the time she spotted her father hurrying home. The other families on the street were gone.
“The cabbies are using their cabs to take their families from the city,” he said, when he was close enough. “As long as they weren’t taking the Trouge Road, they’ve been permitted to leave. There’s none about. I had to walk from the bank.”