Page 39
She pushes the vase aside and removes her spectacles, wiping them on her blouse. “The thistle is the most important part of the bouquet. It represents strength and bravery—the pillars of our family.”
“It’s not that serious,” Darcy intervenes. “Dee and I need to prepare for tonight’s excursion. Flowers aren’t that important.”
“This wedding and all the events leading up to it must showcase the strength of our house. Every last detail is important—the decorations, the guests, and the outfits I’ve selected.”
“Yes, but can’t the frippery wait until we’re all back on shore in one piece? The tide could turn dangerous.”
“It’s your responsibility to make sure Dee is protected,” Aunt Nell says, collecting fabric swatches from the mahogany desk. “It’s her duty to put on a performance that will convince the villagers she’ll make House of Cinder stronger.”
“Dee won’t be performing. She truly is blessed by the sea. She knows almost as much about sea creatures as we do.” Darcy bounces the foot crossed over her thigh as she leans back in the crimson velvet chair beside mine. “The flowers can wait until tomorrow morning.”
I fold my hands in my lap, enjoying her coming to my defense. I’ve been trying to see her in a kinder light these past two days, feeling guilty for being so hasty with my judgment.
She needs time to warm up to me. And as for her past infidelities, I suppose I can’t hold them against her when we met so infrequently.
She seems to be trying to get to know me better on a deeper level, spending hours with me in private.
I should be happy that she’s making an effort. I think I would be if we weren’t convening in her family’s special collections room.
The dark shelves are lined with rolled scrolls detailing the family’s kills, and weapons hang on the wall, shining threateningly.
“We’ll reconvene tomorrow after breakfast,” Aunt Nell relents, signaling for the maids to take the arrangements away. “Send word of your findings after you’ve returned from your excursion.”
Someone else walks in as she exits, and I sense Zephyr’s energy before I see them.
“Good evening, Your Grace, and Your future Grace.” They bow with a small flourish and stand up straight, winking at me. “Everything has been loaded onto the boats. The rest of the crew should be here shortly.”
A brown cap is pulled over their ears, and their cheeks are rosy from being out on the dock all day, lending them an appearance of vitality. They seem to be recovering from whatever’s ailing them, but there are dark circles beneath their eyes, and I occasionally catch them mopping their brow with shaky hands.
They haven’t visited my room since the night they were ill. I haven’t asked them to.
But they’re always in my periphery, their gaze lingering on me.
They stalk over to a bookshelf as Bijou opens the sliding door, and Ross and James follow in close behind her. The priestess is dressed in a plain blue gown like the one I’m wearing, her hair tied in a neat ponytail.
Zephyr pulls her into a hushed conversation. I can’t hear them from my place at the desk, but they both steal glances at me from across the room.
Darcy moves her chair closer to mine. “The professor has made some helpful observations about our preparations.”
“Yes,” I agree. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from a scholar like them.”
Her mouth tightens, and she presses her shoulder against mine. “But I’m not sure if I trust their intent.”
“What do you mean?”
Now it’s Darcy’s cold stare moving over my face. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment. It would be a shame if someone tried to spoil it.”
James runs out from between two shelves, strumming his fingers across a set of strings attached to a golden bar set across a U-shaped frame. “Can’t forget the lyre, cousin. Just in case your siren comes to visit.”
“Siren?” Ross takes the instrument. “Is there something you’re not sharing with the group?” He clumsily plucks the strings and smirks at me. “Or is it something you wouldn’t want your future wife to overhear?”
“Cut it out,” Darcy says, her hands curling over her armrests. “It’s nothing.”
“Darcy spent the last year hunting a mermaid whom she believed was trying to revive the Order of the Undine.” James cringes at the twangy noise Ross is making and snatches the lyre back from him. “But she can’t remember a damn thing about it.”
A fist closes around my heart. It squeezes until it hurts to breathe.
“It’s the strangest thing,” Darcy says, balancing her forehead on two fingers. “Most of my memories are intact, but there’s a void where this siren is supposed to be. All I have are journals filled with pages of the intimate details she shared with me.”
