Page 13 of A Wayward Movement

Her aunt clucked her tongue. “Working in the tavern, Alina? I don’t like that. Your father wouldn’t have liked it, either.”

“Well, then it’s for the best that he’s not here to see it, I suppose.” Alina spoke cheerfully. “Don’t worry about me, Auntie, I just want to know you and the children are all safe. I know Robbie was showing signs of a strong aptitude for magic, and I was worried he might be at risk from these attacks.”

“Nonsense,” her aunt said briskly. “Robbie’s done well in all his studies, but there’s no talk of pursuing magic craft. Our family’s social standing may not be what it once was, but we don’t need to turn to trades just yet, my dear.”

“I know,” Alina said quickly. “I didn’t mean—”

“You’re not at risk, are you?” Aunt Diana cut her off, her gaze clearer. “You be careful, Alina. I know you were quite taken at one point with studying the craft, but—”

“No, Auntie.” It was Alina’s turn to interrupt, though she softened it with a laugh. “Dreams of studying with the guild are far behind me. I’m not a child anymore. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I hope not.” Aunt Diana studied her face, her smile softer this time. “You know, because you have your mother’s hair, I so often see her when I look at you. But your features are more like your father’s.”

Alina smiled. “Fortunately he was a handsome man.”

“Indeed he was,” Aunt Diana laughed. “From the time he was a child, and I’m afraid he was too aware of it sometimes. Come and give me a hug, Alina. I’m sorry for being so distracted. It’s been a trying week. You have to at least stay for lunch, I insist.”

“I’d love to,” Alina said gladly.

“A slate?”

The words pulled Alina back to the tavern, and she looked between the slate in her hand and the speaker at the table. She shook thoughts of her relatives from her mind. She’d enjoyed the chaos and bustle of her aunt and uncle’s lively family over lunch. Her aunt had invited her to stay. She was being foolish to feel like she’d been an imposition. It was just residual discomfort from the two years she’d spent as a dependent in their household, seeing too clearly how her presence drained their scant resources.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” she asked the man who’d hailed her. “I didn’t catch your order.”

“Are you going to write on that?” the man asked. He leaned forward, grinning in a way she didn’t like. He’d been drinking, but he was still a long way off dangerous. “That’s a shame,” he went on. “You’ve no polish, sure, but you’re a nice eyeful regardless. But a woman who thinks herself clever is far too much work.”

“My ability to read and write clearly comes at a tragic cost, then,” Alina said mildly. “Now what’ll you have?”

Guffawing in a grating way, the man placed his order, followed by his friends. Alina wrote it down in her neat, tight hand, dismissing the man’s crass words from her mind the moment she left the table. She would be a useless tavern worker if she let herself be rattled by such tame insults as that.

A loud clinking reached her ears, and she glanced over at the new girl.

Speaking of being rattled…poor Olivia. Concern flashed through Alina’s mind as she watched the pretty blond girl standing up the empty glasses she’d knocked down, her face flushed scarlet. One of the men at her table had clearly said something to discompose her. She hadn’t learned to shrug it off—Alina wasn’t sure she was capable of it. Not that she would be glad to see the girl harden up, exactly. This work wasn’t ideal for any girl, certainly not for as gentle a spirit as Olivia.

Alina had already instinctively harnessed the Dust from the movement of the smoke that rose constantly from the fire. But memory reasserted itself, and she didn’t use it to help still Olivia’s glasses like she normally would. It was a nuisance, the town being crowded by all these strangers. Life was much more convenient when she could use magic craft without fear.

Thankfully, Olivia mastered her tray without assistance, and Alina turned away. Her eyes locked with Zoe, a long-term serving girl at the tavern. Zoe could hardly be more opposite to Olivia. No fear of her letting poorly behaved patrons get to her.

Zoe grimaced, the expression sympathetic as her eyes flicked back to Olivia. Alina sighed a silent agreement, before shaking her head in amusement as Zoe winked at a good-looking young regular. Far from being discomfited, the older girl generally enjoyed the attention in a way Alina certainly never did. Of course it helped that Zoe was experienced enough to know exactly how to put men in their place if they crossed a line.

It was one of the busiest nights Alina had ever worked, and she’d been moving constantly between the kitchen and the tavern’s main room for about an hour before she was called upon to attend the group from the capital. About to leave the kitchen with a laden tray, she paused to let Zoe enter with her arms full of empty flagons.

“Ooh, are you serving our exalted visitor?” Zoe said. “You have all the luck tonight, Alina! I’ve been hoping to be sent over there all night. I think the boss doesn’t want me shocking all the starched advisor types with my forward ways. His words.”

The look of disgust she shot toward the owner’s study was marred by the dimple appearing roguishly on her cheek.

“His Highness’s looks haven’t been exaggerated, have they?” Zoe added. “I think he’d barely need the title to win all the hearts he’s supposed to have broken.”

“His Highness?” Alina repeated, startled. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t know?” Zoe looked scandalized. “He’s leading the investigation!”

“Who is?” Alina demanded.

“I’m not paying you to gossip in the doorway!”

The voice issued from the owner’s study, and Zoe flounced past Alina, rolling her eyes dramatically.