Minerva leans in. “Using enchanted arrows, correct? No doubt from Avery’s illicit stash.”
The group laughs when the young queen gives the captain a mock chastising look, none of them shocked. She knows of Avery’s illegal weapons collection? Of course she does.
I only smile, growing increasingly uncomfortable.
“Oh! There she is!” Minerva says, losing interest in our conversation. She waves a gloved hand in the air. “Madame Lavinia!”
The group hurries toward the songstress, accosting her with praise. I hang back, nursing my drink. Avery steps up next to me, looking uncomfortable enough to confirm my growing suspicions.
“Tell me, Captain Greybrow. Did you engage in a romantic relationship with the Queen of Kalae before or after she married King Harold?”
He smiles in a disconcerted way that does nothing to soothe my nerves, and he looks at our group instead of me. “Before.”
I knew it.
“And what happened?”
After letting out a resigned sigh, Avery turns toward me and relieves me of my drink—as if he’s worried I’m going to toss it in his face after he answers.
“Well?” I ask, bracing myself.
“She broke our engagement.”
There is no preparing for that answer. I stare at the captain, not blinking, beyond incredulous. “You were engaged to the Queen of Kalae?”
He shakes his head, laughing a little. “Now let’s put this in perspective. She wasn’t the queen then.”
“Who was she?”
Thank goodness for the crisp night air. I take in a deep lungful, rip my flute back from Avery, and drain the drink in one long gulp.
Almost amused, Avery answers, “She’s the daughter of the Marquis of Brigend, a good match, and her father is a friend of the family. We were companions at court—when I was present, which wasn’t very often. Mother thought we’d be happy.”
She’s the queen. She’s beautiful and poised and charming. And he’s probably held her hand, whispered into her ear, kissed her in the same perfect way he’s kissed me.
I feel ill.
If I thought I wasn’t good enough for Sebastian, it’s nothing compared to picturing myself with a man who was engaged to the Queen of Kalae.
“She also happened to be madly in love with Harold, a man who was like an older brother to us,” Avery continues, either oblivious to my dismay or ignoring it. “Well, apparently not much of a brother to her seeing as how she married him.”
“How? I mean, why did she break the engagement?”
Avery takes a sip from his own drink. “Mother died. I realized life was too short to be with someone who didn’t love me. I gave her the option to leave, and she gladly accepted it. She was engaged to Harold within the month.”
That had to have stung. Avery can be as flippant as he wants—that sort of thing leaves a mark.
“She seems to like you well enough now.”
A real smile plays on his lips. “Well, I’m quite a catch now.”
I narrow my eyes. “And you weren’t then?”
He moves in closer, almost too close in this crowd. “I was too wholesome, too naive and youthful. I needed to lose some of that shine before women started to look my way.” His next words brush my ear. “And before you argue, I will point out that you like the pirate as well.”
I shiver, shaking my head, and take a safe step to the side.
Though she’s deep in conversation with Madam Lavinia, Minerva looks our way. Her eyes linger on Avery for a moment too long. Now that I know their history, I can see the regret in her actions. She sees Avery now, the Avery I’ve known from the beginning, and she wonders what it would have been like if she hadn’t left him. I glance at the captain.
I don’t want to have those same regrets.
Minerva pulls her gaze away and returns to her conversation, laughing joyously even though she’s emotionally conflicted.
My head hurts, and I want to leave. This crowd is exhausting. Everyone’s so mannered, but no one says what they mean. Everyone’s connected somehow, and if you’re not born into it, it’s a tricky spider web to maneuver. I don’t belong here, and honestly, I don’t want to. I’d rather raid caves, face dragons, slay nasty lesser basiliskas in the bottom of an apothecary’s shoppe. Eating on a regular schedule is nice, but I don’t think I can do this.
“Avery—”
He catches my hand, suddenly serious. He gives me a stern look, a gentle warning. “Don’t.”
“But this isn’t my world,” I mutter, exasperated.
“It’s not mine either. I’d rather be anywhere but here.”
“Then why are we?”
I’d give anything to be back on his ship—better yet, back on the island where things were simple and easy and honest.
“Because the king is throwing a soirée in your honor, Lucia, proving that you are, like it or not, someone. I want you to see that—not for them. I don’t care about them.” His thumb brushes my knuckles. “For you.”
Tired of discussing it, feeling flutters I’d rather suppress, I tip my flute over. Sadly, it’s empty. “Have you always been this charming, Captain? Or was it a learned trait?”
He drapes his arm over my shoulder. “Always, I’m afraid. It’s simply a burden I’m forced to carry.”
“You have a very difficult life,” I tease as I swipe his flute and take a sip.
Mock serious, he shakes his head and lets out a long sigh. “Don’t I know it.”
CHAPTER TEN
Pastels are all the Rage
-or-
The Dressmaker and Her Hobgoblins
Adeline and I arrive at Serena Hanhaust’s shoppe at half past ten in the morning. It’s a warm day, one that feels more like spring than early winter. The shoppe sits to the east of the city, near the elite part of town. A spire from one of the guild buildings towers in the distance, glistening in the late morning light.
The dressmaker’s shoppe is constructed of stone with large windows at the front. Black iron sconces flank the doors, and cheerful flowers grow in baskets that hang from the decorative beams of dark wood. Adeline’s eager but nervous, and she fidgets with her gown as we walk toward the entrance, less confident in her skills than usual.
Dreading the outing, worried the woman will be a snob, I give one of the double doors a tug just to be jolted when they don’t open.
“Are they closed?” I ask Adeline, peering at the welcome sign nestled in the shrubs next to the doors. It would be a lie to say I’m not relieved. I’ve been dreading coming here, and I’ll take any excuse to leave.
Looking heartbroken, Adeline peers at the sign. She shakes her head, and her auburn curls softly follow the movement. “She should be in.”
I shrug as if to say, “What can you do?” Then I turn on my heel and try not to skip back to the carriage.
Adeline, not as eager to leave as I, knocks on the door. Frowning, I study an alabaster doe statue near the door. When no one answers, she knocks again, a little more insistent.
This time, the door swings open, and a pretty, petite woman stands on the other side. She purses her lips as she scans us. “I do not believe you have an appointment.”
Adeline blinks. “Appointment?”
The woman looks at her as if she’s daft. “You think Serena Hanhaust has the time to attend to people who simply walk in off the street?”
“Uh…” Adeline stutters, and her cheeks turn red. “I didn’t think—”
“No, I suppose you didn’t.”
Irritated with the woman’s attitude, I step forward and take Adeline’s arm. Narrowing my eyes, knowing that this hoity-toity woman probably caters to the upper class every single day—knowing my next words won’t make a bit of difference—I say, “We’ll find someone else to make us gowns for the king’s soirée.”
The woman turns to me, ready to say something snide, but falters. Her entire demeanor changes, and she asks, “Are you Lucia of Reginae?” Incredulous, sh
e adds, “The siren slayer?”
All right then.
Adeline turns to me, just as surprised as I am.
“Yes?” I say, unsure and a little disconcerted. The infamy is losing its appeal. Sure, it was enjoyable enough at first, but it’s uncomfortable. Perhaps I’ll learn how to deal with it graciously, but now, I’m itching to leave the city, scout in the wilderness. I can’t help but think all these people are scrutinizing me, sizing me up, wondering if I really slew the sirens or if perhaps a man did it for me and we’re not fessing up.
I don’t measure up to some of the women scouts—I know that. I’ve seen them myself, tried not to envy their strong frames. Some are hardened to the world, but many, the ones I admire, are beautiful and respected. They can take down a full grown woodland lion as easily as other women churn butter.
But that’s not me, not exactly. I’m strong enough, but my curves are soft. Adeline’s taller than I am, and my features could only be described as sweet. Not beautiful like Adeline, not willowy like the queen. Sweet.
And “sweet” unfortunately, is not exactly what you think of when you picture an adventuress renowned for slaying sirens.
Looking torn, the woman glances over her shoulder, into the shoppe. “Serena is indisposed at the moment, but I do believe she’d like to make you both gowns. Come inside; I’ll take your measurements.”
At the same time I’m declining, Adeline clasps my arm, digging her fingers into my flesh and yanks me forward. “That would be lovely!”
The inside of the shoppe doesn’t look much different than Adeline’s little boutique she owned in Mesilca, except it’s larger and only a few gowns hang on elevated forms dispersed throughout the room, giving it an upscale sort of look.
Adeline looks around, enraptured. She hovers her hand over the delicate silk of the turquoise and gold gown closest to us, not daring to lay a finger on the fabric.
Serena’s assistant quickly and efficiently takes my measurements. When she’s finished, she stands back and studies me, eyes narrowed. I fidget, unsure what she’s doing.
“Since you are the belle of the ball, I’m going to recommend scarlet for your gown. You have the skin tone and hair for it, and you’ll stand out.”
Adeline opens her mouth, obviously wanting to add her opinion but not brave enough to second guess the woman who works for the most renowned seamstress in Kalae.
“What do you think, Adeline?”
My friend’s eyes go wide, and she looks as if she’s going to scold me as soon as we leave. “Scarlet would be lovely.”
“But?”
She gives me a stern look, but when I don’t relent, she sighs. “But pastels are still so popular this season, especially that light coral I’ve seen so many girls wearing. Lucia would stand out, but the dress might clash and look…unfashionable.” Her voice softens on the last word, especially when the assistant raises a haughty eyebrow at her.
“What color would you recommend?” a second voice says from behind us.
We turn abruptly, and the assistant stands a smidgen straighter. “Hello, Madam. I wasn’t aware you were finished with your…meeting.”
The woman in front of us is gorgeous, the kind of gorgeous that makes even Adeline look like a young girl in comparison. She’s a smidgen taller than Adeline, and her hair is the color of pale honey. It tumbles down her back in glossy, sleek waves that are so perfect, they should be unattainable for a mere mortal. Her gown is long and sleek, and it just happens to be the exact color of coral Adeline was talking about.
She’s a real life, human siren. And she’s as intimidating as all oblivion.
“I’m so sorry, Madam Serena,” Adeline says, sounding almost near tears. “I wasn’t saying—”
Serena holds up her hand, brushing away the apology. “What color?”
Adeline bites her bottom lip and looks at me for courage. I widen my eyes, telling her to spit it out. After looking at the gowns on display, I have no doubt my friend is every bit as talented as this woman.
“Steel gray, perhaps with a black brocade skirt. It wouldn’t clash with the pastels, but it would make her stand out.”
The dressmaker wears an enigmatic look. “And what cut would suit her, do you think?”
“She looks lovely in a full skirt, and since her shoulders are delicate, I like to put her in a sweetheart neckline.”
Serena finally smiles, still studying me. “Yes, we’ll leave her shoulders bare but add detached sleeves. And maybe a feminine tapering A-line to juxtapose the dark fabric. She looks too young, too innocent to be a siren slayer, let’s play that up whilst making her appear mysterious. She’ll wear her hair down, and we’ll darken it to a rich chocolate for the evening.”
Darken my hair? What’s wrong with it the way it is?
Adeline beams, and she looks at me as if I’m already wearing it. “It sounds stunning.”
Serena nods at me as if approving the idea, and then she turns to Adeline. “Are you a seamstress?”
“I am.” Adeline’s almost breathless, and she nods, slightly too eager but in her usual enchanting way.
“You have a good eye.”
It’s a simple statement, but Adeline looks as if she’s about to float away. “Thank you,” she gushes.
The dressmaker’s eyes return to me. She studies me, almost frowning. “You’re not what I expected.”
You and the rest of Kalae.
I shrug, because what are you supposed to say to that?
“If rumor is to be trusted, you can track down anything. After all, if you can bring back a sea fire ruby, what is beyond your grasp?” Her words are light, but there’s steel behind them, and I don’t quite understand why. She watches me carefully, intent on what my answer will be.
“I didn’t bring it back alone.”
A quick smile flashes across her face. “No, you’ve partnered with Avery, haven’t you?”
Two things: First…Avery? She practically purrs his name. And why not refer to him as Captain Greybrow? Surely—surely—he didn’t have an affair with this woman too. She’s at least eight years his senior, but she’s…well.
Secondly, it sounds as if she’s assumed Avery and I have formed a business alliance and not a…
What are we, anyway? I need to figure that out; I really do.
“Captain Greybrow and I are friends. Lord Sebastian Thane, of the Reginae Thanes, is my business partner.”
Serena turns to Adeline. “And how do you fit in with this tidy little fellowship?”
Adeline blanches, unsure how to answer. What is she anyway? In the beginning, she was sort of a reluctant companion. Now…I suppose she’s a willing companion?
“She’s a friend as well,” I say.
The dressmaker eyes me for one more long minute. “Are friends important to you, Lucia? Loyalty? Trust?”
“Yes,” I answer slowly, wondering if this is a trick question.
There’s a long moment of silence. Finally, Serena says, “Good. I’ll send your gowns to the castle this evening.”
“This evening?” I ask, surprised. Adeline’s fast, but even she can’t work like that.
Serena’s already heading toward the back, but she looks over her shoulder before she disappears through the door. “I employ hobgoblins.”
Adeline sucks in a breath, obviously shocked at the admission.
“Obviously, I don’t want word of that to spread,” the dressmaker says. “I trust you’ll use discretion.”
“All right…” I honestly couldn’t care less. She could employ trolls for all I care.
“Friends are important to you, Lucia, just as discretion is important to me.” The woman’s gray-blue eyes bore into me. “Do you understand?”
It’s the strangest thing, but I do not think we’re talking about her miniature, pointy-eared seamstresses.
“Yes?” I answer.
She nods once, making her long, glistening hair sway, and disappears through the door without another word.
Adeline and I share a mystified look, and then Serena’s assistant, who was silent throughout the whole exchange, shows us to the door. She doesn’t look terribly friendly. I don’t think she cares for us much, to be honest.
“That was odd,” I whisper as we walk down the steps.
“Very odd,” Adeline agrees.
I glance back at the shoppe as I’m stepping into the carriage, and I find a familiar face—black hair, somewhat bushy sideburns, intense expression. The man who I swear is stalking me leans against the lamppost, and our eyes meet. This time, I return his gaze, hoping to convey that I am not someone to trifle with.
His lips crook in a bare smile, and he doesn’t look away until we’ve rounded the corner.
“Did you see that man?” I demand as soon as we’re out of sight.
“What man?” Adeline asks, startled by my tone.
“He was—” I take in her bewildered gaze and shake my head. “Never mind.”
There’s no way it’s a coincidence. But what does he want?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Work on Your Technique
I wander the entire castle, looking for Sebastian. Eventually, I find him outside the armory, sparring with a few of the royal guards. He’s shed most of his layers, and he stands shirtless, rapier extended, as he waits for the man across from him to prepare himself for the duel.
It’s quite a sight—one I haven’t had the pleasure of witnessing before. Flink’s tied to a post at the corner of the seats in the shade, content to rub his face on his golden ball. It’s good that Sebastian remembered to bring it, or the dragon would find something else to distract himself with—probably trying to pull the wooden seats down. Without drawing attention to myself, I climb the stairs and find a spot to watch.
Sebastian’s good, better than I would have thought my once-awkward friend could ever be. But he’s grown into himself, gained muscle and confidence, and now he’s quite the figure. And I’m not the only one who thinks so. A trio of laundry maids loiters at the edge of the yard, heads bent together as they giggle amongst themselves.
With one last parry and a lunge, Sebastian bests the guard opposite him. The day is pleasant, not overly warm, but sweat rolls off them. They wipe their brows, laughing.
Wildwood Larkwing (Silver and Orchids Book 3) Page 7