Dahlia gave Rodrigo an appraising look. “You’re tall,” she said, as if it was the first time she noticed. “Maggie, if you stood next to Rodrigo, do you think you’d remember how tall TK was?”
Maggie shrugged, unsure whether the mask’s magic would let her hold on to that much detail, but she hopped off her stool and ducked under the bar door. Rodrigo threw his towel over his shoulder and opened his arms, inviting Maggie in for a hug.
She and Dahlia had known Rodrigo for almost as long as they’d known each other, after they met him during an event he’d catered for Hawthorn. She didn’t mind that he knew about the mystery man; she probably would have told him herself later in the evening when she was two drinks in and cared less about keeping her own secrets.
“She’s lucky she’s funny,” Maggie said into Rodrigo’s bicep. “I can’t believe we put up with her.” Rodrigo chuckled, the sound resonating through his chest, and Maggie could admit that, maybe, she needed this hug. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close in a crushing embrace, and Maggie eased into it, sighing. She thought, as she often did when she spent time with Rodrigo, that this must be what it felt like to have an older brother.
The top of Maggie’s head barely reached Rodrigo’s shoulder, and she estimated that her mysterious stranger was probably aninch taller than her friend. She gave him a squeeze, and he let her go. “How tall are you, Ro?” Dahlia asked.
“I’m six one,” Rodrigo said. “Making him…”
“I came up to here on him,” Maggie confirmed, playing along for both of them. She gestured to a spot about an inch below where her head had rested at Rodrigo’s collarbone.
“I’d say he’s probably six two, then,” Rodrigo said, and Dahlia grabbed the list from the bar where Rodrigo had left it, made the update, and handed it back to him.
“Put this behind the bar, and if you see anyone who matches this description, call me immediately.”
Rodrigo’s eyebrows rose as he took the list, but then he stuck it next to the blender and said, “For you and you alone, Dahlia.”
As Maggie returned to her stool, she felt that familiar embarrassment creeping up her ears, red and hot. “Can we talk about something else now?” she asked Dahlia. Rodrigo wandered back to the other end of the bar, cleaning glasses and taking a drink order from another customer.
Her friend looked at her thoughtfully. “You know, if you want me to stop trying to find him, I’ll stop.”
Maggie bit her lip.Wasthat what she wanted? She realized very quickly that the answer was no. She couldn’t quite let go of TK, not with how he’d kissed her, how neatly their bodies had fit together as they danced to the music on Beltane. If she had the chance…she’d really like to kiss him again. At least one more time. “No,” Maggie finally replied. “I want to keep looking. I’ve just been so distracted. One more thing Taliesin and his pall are ruining.”
Rodrigo had returned, setting sweating glasses of water oncoasters in front of them. “ArthurTaliesin?” When Maggie nodded, Rodrigo went on. “I heard he was teaching up at the school. I keep meaning to get to one of his community lectures, but I haven’t had the time.”
“You’re not missing much,” Maggie muttered with that grumpy, petulant edge she couldn’t seem to shake whenever she talked about Taliesin. It wasn’t even a true statement. Maggie had been to one of his community lectures, and it was great. Dahlia looked at her pointedly. “Ugh, fine. He is a genius. If you get a chance, you really should go to one of them.”
“But?” Rodrigo asked.
“He’s annoying!” Maggie practically shouted. “I don’t care if he’s brilliant. He’s a legacy academic who has never worked a real job a day in his life.”
Maggie had gone to school with plenty of people like Taliesin. People for whom a career in academia was a foregone conclusion. People whose parents and grandparents were academics or who carried the same name as a building on campus, usually because they had more ambition than brain cells and their families had more money than sense.
Her own academic trajectory was so different that she could hardly relate to most of her classmates who came from that world. A love of Diadhan had steered her toward academia. She had been so sure that it was what she wanted—the imagined prestige and influence—that she had worked with a singular focus to get the best spot she could in the best possible program. It had been grueling, nearly crushing the love she had for the Diadhan language. Even now, she wasn’t always sure it was worth it. She had been competing with people who understoodthe language and culture of academia in a way she hadn’t. People like Taliesin, who had known from the time they were kids thatprofessorwas a job people could have.
Maggie’s parents had always been very practical. Her father owned a small greenspell business and her mother worked the desk, answering phones and scheduling appointments. To Maggie, it seemed they saw their only daughter as something strange and not wholly theirs. She knew they loved her, but, to them, she had little to show for all the stress she went through in undergrad and grad school. They didn’t quite understand what she had worked so hard for all those years. There had been times when Maggie hadn’t either.
Dahlia took another sip of her drink, hiding a bemused-but-critical look behind the glass. “What?” Maggie asked, eyes narrowed.
“I’m not sure that’stotallyfair,” Dahlia said carefully, and Maggie’s cheeks reddened, burning hotter because of the alcohol.
“Well, whatever happened last week with the pall was absolutely his fault, but he won’t admit it.”
Rodrigo’s eyes grew wide. “That explains it. I’ve had to call the wardsmiths to replace our basement wards twice since Beltane. At least one ghoul got in there and made a huge mess of a sack of sugar.”
The banshee screeches at night were bad enough, but Maggie was glad she didn’t have any ghouls scratching at her windows. She made a mental note to strengthen the lone ward she kept active on her front door. “When did they dissipate the pall?” Rodrigo asked.
Dahlia leaned in and said quietly, “It’s still there.”
“Since Beltane?!” He let out a low whistle. “Yikes.”
“It’s taken over the entire third floor of our building. We’re sharing offices and classrooms to try to make up for the lost space,” Maggie explained.
“And Maggie won the lottery and is sharing her office withtheArthur Taliesin.”
“More like got the short stick,” Maggie grumbled, her burning cheeks forgotten as she ticked off her fingers and went down a long list of complaints. “He refuses to come up with a reasonable schedule for sharing our office. He thinks his own program is more important than mine. He can’t sit still. He judges the way I teach…”
