“He is not a child now!”
“And neither am I! And I am coming here, to my home, to my father, asking you which is more important to you: your house or your only daughter?”
Seamus ground his teeth. “Oh, this is very disappointing. I did not raise you to …”
“YOU DID NOT RAISE ME AT ALL!” Magdala roared. “My mother raised me, when I was allowed to be with her,before you stole me. And when I grew older, the stone yards raised me. Then, the royal guard. And all the while, I propped you up, put food on your table, and made bread for your soft-headed friends!”
“You ungrateful …”
“Enough.” Magdala swept her arm between them, and it felt as though she’d severed something that had long held them together. “If you will not shelter us, you may spend the night bound and gagged in the barn.”
“I will shelter you,” Seamus said, his voice trembling. “But not him.”
“Where he goes, I go, and so the reverse.”
“I don’t mean the king, I mean that mad water creature you brought with him.”
“Zephyr is harmless unless you anger him.”
“And have you seen him angered?”
“Zephyr stays with us.”
“And I suppose you want me to give the king something to ease his coughing? To set his broken arm?”
“Are you telling me that you will not?”
He looked away, his lips quivering.
“I want to respect you,” Magdala said. “But I’m too old to do it just because you’re my father. I’m grown now, and you must give me areason.”
His eyes snapped back to her and his lips parted. He wilted and looked very old. “Magdala …”
“What?” She leaned against the wall. “What? You expect me to be proud of you? To join you? I bring a man here who is injured, in need of shelter and care, and tell you that I lovethis man, and you treat me as though I brought you some diseased animal. I should not have to tell you that Asherton saved my life tonight. That he is ill because, when Huxley offered him the opportunity to save himself and sacrifice me, he would not take it. I should not have to tell you that because it should not matter.”
“I will not let you manipulate me.”
“Then let me be clear—shelter us, or never see me again.”
Seamus’s jaw worked, and he glanced around the dark yard, toward the road. Asherton was coughing again, loud enough now that they could hear him through the closed door. Magdala’s anxiety rose and she turned reflexively, wanting to go to him.
Her father caught her arm. “He saved you?”
“Yes.”
“From what?”
“Death, da,” she said, earnest. “From drowning.”
Zephyr rounded the corner, his cheeks flushed. “Magdala, come.”
Leaving her father, Magdala hurried into the cottage. When she saw Asherton on the floor, leaning against the wall with his broken arm held tight against his stomach, she bit back a sob.
He was breathing heavily, shivering, his cheeks pink and his eyes glassy.
She slid to her knees before him.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I’m just tired.”
