by Lish McBride
Merit grabbed the list. “Let me see that. She must really be desperate.”
“Why?” Tevin sorted through what little information he had on the Huldre line. “By all accounts they’re well-off and fine-looking. Maybe a bit high in the instep.”
“Our marrying would be complicated.” Merit stared at Eric Latimer’s name on the paper in her mother’s beautiful swoopy handwriting. It didn’t make any sense. Why would her mother list him as a possibility? “As far as I know, he’s the only heir, like I am, and not to a barony, but a sovereign land.”
Tevin canted his head to the side, frowning. “I see. So who would govern what? Would you have to rule them both together?”
Merit splayed her hands out. “We’d have to come to some sort of agreement before we wed. But my mother wants an heir. If Latimer and I only had one child, that would complicate succession. One child would inherit both the barony and the kingdom. With two children, I suppose, we could split it, which might cause some headaches.”
“What would happen if you don’t have children?” Tevin asked.
“If I die without an heir, then technically the barony would go to my husband,” Merit said, her face troubled.
“Worrying if that’s to a husband of even status—other baronies might grumble at someone suddenly doubling their land. But a prince from a sovereign nation? Can’t see Queen Lucia loving that. She’d lose that barony, another bite of land taken by the Huldres.” He tipped his chair back from the table. “We have to be missing something, or choosing him makes no sense. Tell me about your curse, please. You don’t have to go over the whole story, only the actual curse part.”
Merit rested the weight of her chin on her fist. “It’s the usual story, I think. I fell in love with a boy. First love and all that—I was very young.”
“How young?”
“Almost fifteen.”
“As opposed to the crone you are now,” he murmured.
She was tempted to push her boot against his chair and knock him flat onto his back. “As I was saying, he was kind, handsome, and sweet.”
“He sounds boring.” Tevin pushed too far back and had to catch the table with his hand so he didn’t tip over. “What happened?”
“We decided to marry. I wanted to elope, but he wanted to do things right.”
“If you’d eloped, there would have been no chance at a payoff,” Tevin said, his voice flat. “He insisted you tell your mother?”
“She was livid.”
Tevin’s expression was sympathetic. “Too young? Too soon?”
“Too common.”
“Ah.” Tevin managed to get a wealth of meaning packed into that one syllable.
She cleared her throat, which suddenly felt thick. “What did matter was that my mother had already arranged a betrothal for me.”
He shook his head ruefully. “I’ve seen this song and dance so many times, I know the tune and steps by heart.”
“My mother and I fought. I’ve never seen her so angry. I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry.” She sighed, straightening up and squaring her shoulders. “I locked myself in my room. Refused to go to the betrothal party she’d planned for me and the man she wanted me to marry. That’s when I found out she’d offered Jasper money. I’m not sure how much. It didn’t matter. I never saw him again.” Merit’s words were sad but steady, an old, scarred-over pain. “She told me I was being beastly. That he didn’t love me, only wanted my money. The fairy godling she’d invited to bless the union overheard and agreed.” She waved at herself. “This was the result. I either need to marry for love alone or accept someone of my mother’s choosing.”
Tevin reached out and squeezed her hand, careful to not touch her claws.
“I was so sure he’d come back. I told her I wouldn’t marry anyone but him, despite everything.”
“Merit, I’m sorry.”
She didn’t answer. What was there to say?
“No one should do that to their children.”
Merit examined him for a minute. He seemed genuinely upset on her behalf. It was nice to have someone listen. “They shouldn’t trade them off to cover their own debts, either.”
He turned his head away, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “It’s not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it? Our parents have traded our futures to suit their needs. I bet your mother didn’t ask what you wanted, either.” She tilted her head. “And you didn’t even argue or get angry. No, you negotiated.”
Tevin didn’t answer, his lips pressed into a flat line.
“We’re not so different,” Merit whispered.
Tevin laughed. “We’re not even remotely similar.” He took back the list. “Moving on. The first event your mother has listed is tomorrow morning. A party by the lake. That sounds perfect.”
“Peachy,” Merit said. “A beast in a summer dress.”
“Don’t give up yet. There are weeks left for that.” Tevin tucked away the paperwork. “Rest up. Tomorrow will be the lake party, and then dinner and dancing at home so I can see what we’re working with.”
“That sounds ominous.”
He winked.
“Winking is creepy.”
He winked again, only slower.
CHAPTER 10
A WASTE OF GOOD TOAST
The next morning found Tevin and Val eating breakfast across the table from Ellery. Tevin sat quietly at one end of the table, enjoying coffee and thick slices of toast with marmalade. Val was currently working her way through an impressive amount of bacon, while Ellery sipped tea and read the paper, ignoring everyone. Which was impressive, really, considering both what was going on at the other end of the table, and the fact that the table wasn’t that long.
Merit’s mother, her coffee forgotten, had shoved her chair to the side as she stood, leaning over the table, while her daughter unconsciously mirrored her stance. Merit had just thrown her toast at Lady Zarla’s head, either because she was angry or because she wasn’t a big breakfast person. She’d missed, sadly, and it was now sliding down the wall, leaving a bright orange smear on the charming silk wallpaper. The argument had started with Merit telling her mother that they’d already crossed several suitors off the list, and it had now sidestepped into a new segment involving when she was going to take her tincture.
“You cannot honestly think to show up like that at the party and be taken seriously by any of the gentlemen there.”
Tevin assumed by “that,” Lady Zarla meant Merit’s beastly countenance.
“I can and will!”
Tevin could see Merit’s tail lash back and forth as she attempted—unsuccessfully—to rein in her temper. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that you could read a lot of her mood by watching her tail. She was like a cat in that way. Right now her tail was telling everyone to back away before she scratched them to ribbons.
Tevin took a gulp of coffee, riffling through the ways this fight could go and deciding how he wanted to steer it. Lady Zarla was right—Merit needed to be herself at the party. She needed to flirt, and he suspected she was bad at it under normal circumstances, but as a beast? He pictured her fanged mouth tipped into a coquettish grin and shuddered. No, that wouldn’t work. But did it need to work today? He couldn’t side with Lady Zarla, either, or Merit would immediately respond like the cornered animal she obviously was.
The toast finished sliding down the wall, surrendering to its fate on the floor with a sad little plop. The problem, he decided, was that they’d each been hurt acutely by the other, and yet they still loved each other desperately. Either they didn’t know how to express it properly or they had chosen to do so in the worst possible way. He couldn’t tell which. No two people loved the same way, each heart speaking a different dialect of a similar language. What they needed was an interpreter who could quickly and delicately help them sort it out. Tevin felt he wasn’t the best ch
oice, but he appeared to be the only choice. Mother and daughter were equally strong-willed, which meant he had to find a solution where both could compromise without feeling like they’d surrendered.
Tevin reached out with one hand and carefully shoved Ellery’s paper down. “How frequently can she take her tincture?” He kept the question quiet for them alone.
“I’m not sure,” Ellery replied softly. “She doesn’t have a disease that responds in a scientific manner. It’s magic. Godling magic is as stubborn and petulant as they are—it doesn’t like to be circumvented forever. The magic will have its pound of flesh, one way or another.”
“Meaning?”
“The curse might come back stronger, she might have another episode—I don’t know.” Ellery’s eyebrows pinched together in thought. “Think of the magic like a river. You can dam it, but there will be leaks and you can’t always tell where they will be. Understand?”
“I think so.”
“We’ll have to keep an eye on Merit and see.” The healer snapped the paper back in place, deciding the conversation was finished.
“One more thing,” Tevin said, pulling the paper back down.
“Yes?” Ellery looked similar to how they had the day before—same manner of dress, short sable hair, and wire-rimmed spectacles. Identical irritation with Tevin and his gift.
“Is my magic still bothering you? I’m sorry if it is.”
Ellery gave up and folded the paper. “You can’t help it. Spriggans are sensitive to godling magic.”
Tevin groaned inwardly. No wonder Ellery disliked him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Yes.” Ellery finished their tea, took the paper, and stood. “I suggest you concentrate on the problem at hand.” They tucked the paper under their arm and left the room without hurry, not even looking over at Merit and Lady Zarla as they argued. Apparently fighting matches were as much of the household breakfast ritual as Tevin’s coffee and toast.
He got up from his chair, taking his second as-yet-untouched piece of toast, and slid it onto Merit’s plate. “The marmalade is a little heavy on the left side, so if you choose to throw it and waste perfectly good toast, adjust your aim accordingly.”
Merit blinked at him, her mouth snapping closed. He guided her back into her chair with one hand while snatching up the silver coffeepot with the other and refilling Lady Zarla’s cup. As Merit sat, so did her mother.
“Sugar?”
“Thank you, no,” Lady Zarla said.
He set the pot down with a decisive thunk. “Lady Zarla, there are good reasons for Merit to go as herself today.” He had to raise his voice for the next bit to be heard over Merit’s growl. “But Merit also makes good points. Might I make a suggestion?”
“No,” they both said. Well, at least he’d managed to get them to agree on something.
“Today Merit can wear a veil and take a parasol. It won’t hide what she is, but it will soften it and give her an excuse to lean on my arm.” Lady Zarla was already relaxing into his charm, but it wasn’t her he had to convince. It was Merit. “Today can be a fact-finding mission. We’ll talk to anyone there on the list and make revisions if necessary. We’ll gain focus.”
Merit’s shoulders relaxed, but her gaze remained sharp. “That doesn’t sound too terrible.”
“And that will leave you free to take your tincture for the ball and dinner tomorrow night,” Tevin said. “I’m sure Lady Zarla would agree that is the more important of the two events.”
“Fine,” Lady Zarla said, picking up her coffee and taking a sip. “But I want you on your best behavior today, Merit. You may look like a beast, but you will not act like one.”
Tevin’s eyes met Val’s, and he could tell they were sharing the same thought—famous last words.
* * *
• • •
Just because her mother had conceded on the tincture didn’t mean Merit got off completely free. Lady Zarla desperately wanted to minimize the visual impact of the curse, so she’d instructed Merit’s maid very carefully about how she needed to dress. They’d selected a vivid blue hat with a cluster of silk flowers and a heavy veil along the rim. The dress was a rich cream color, and it covered her from neck to wrists to ankles. Boots concealed what the hem of her dress did not. Merit drew the line at gloves. Even if she managed to get them over her misshapen hands, her claws would shred them. The party was scheduled early in the day so people could attend and still keep their evening engagements. By the time Merit climbed out of the hack, sweat was already pooling along her lower back. There was no breeze to be found, and the sun was beating down upon the lake like a relentless golden hammer. Beautiful, yes, but comfortable? No.
Merit felt less like a beast and more like a fetid swamp troll. It didn’t help that Tevin looked crisp and cool in a lightweight suit that matched her dress. His vest was a verdant green the same color as his eyes. He looked comfortable and handsome, and Merit considered pushing him into the lake.
“I don’t recommend it,” Tevin said, offering her his arm. “You’ll only ruin the suit.”
“Is mind reading one of your fairy gifts?” Merit grumbled as she hefted her parasol. Lady Zarla climbed out of the carriage behind them, impeccably turned out in a lilac summer dress. She immediately flitted off to speak to friends, without a backward glance at Merit. She’d already lectured her daughter in the carriage, and there were no final orders to give. Val sauntered out last, dressed in a similar manner to Tevin, except she’d ditched her jacket in the hack and was wearing a new version of her ubiquitous telescope hat.
“I don’t have any other gifts,” Tevin said. “You mumbled your threat out loud.” He kept his face pleasant, but his voice was tinged with worry. “Are you going to be okay? It’s a real melter. I don’t want you swooning into the clam dip.”
Merit snapped her parasol open with a deft flick. “I never swoon.”
He grinned at her, and her stomach twisted. “I bet I can make you swoon.”
“I bet I can push you into the lake,” Merit said.
A delighted laugh tore out of him, making more than one woman turn. Merit held up her chin. “Are we going to stand here all day?”
Tevin rested a hand on hers, guiding her to the gathering. Merit couldn’t see much through the thick veil; she could make out silhouettes, but she mostly relied on the murmur of Tevin’s voice for the details. Linen-covered tables had been set out under the trees, taking advantage of what small shade they cast. Plates of sandwiches, appetizers, cakes, and fruit covered most of the surface. One table held a punch bowl full of what appeared to be lemonade. Brightly colored blankets stretched out here and there on the grass for people to sit and eat. Music flowed from a white gazebo, the roof keeping the sun off the string quartet housed inside. People milled about, talking and enjoying the beautiful sunny day.
As they grew closer, Val peeled off and disappeared into a crowd of young fairyborn who had clustered near the punch bowl.
“What is Val doing?” Merit whispered.
“I showed her the list earlier. She’s going to information-gather for us. That way you can concentrate on talking to your prospects.”
“No one here knows Val,” Merit pointed out, then suddenly wasn’t sure. “Do they? I mean, how will she get them to talk to her?”
“She might know some, but even if she doesn’t, Val is one of them. That goes a long way.” Tevin pretended to nod and smile at someone he recognized. “Do you see anyone from the list?”
Merit tried, but the veil made it too difficult to distinguish faces from this far. “No, but if Freddie’s here, he’ll be by the punch table, waiting for an opportunity to upend his flask into it. And Cedric will be monopolizing some poor pretty girl.” She was fairly certain both would be here today. “I’m not sure about anyone else.”
“We’ll have to make the rounds and see, then. L
et’s start with the punch bowl.”
“Where is Amaury?” Merit asked, suddenly realizing she hadn’t seen the younger DuMont since yesterday.
“I find with my brother it’s best not to ask. He’ll surface when he wants to.”
Tevin guided her through the crowd, eventually getting them close to the drinks, despite Merit stopping to greet a few acquaintances along the way.
They didn’t have to look long before Freddie found them. He tipped the edge of his boater hat at Merit before doing a quick once-over of Tevin and then dismissing him. Though he was dressed much like Tevin, he had a thin, aristocratic look to him and had either swiped a lady’s lacy parasol or brought his own. He spun it in his long fingers, giving Merit a rakish smile. If there was a word for Freddie, it was languid. He seemed to think if he waited long enough, whatever he wished would be brought to him.
Merit wondered how they had managed to have such similar upbringings yet end up so very different. When she pictured him hunting, he was always stretched out in a sedan chair, rifle in hand while someone led the quarry forward on a gilded leash.
“Lovely to see you, Merit, as always.” He tipped back the last of his drink, shoving the glass at Tevin. “Be a good fellow and refill this for me?” When Tevin stared at the glass but didn’t take it, Freddie gave a sly smile. “You were going to fetch one for the lady, were you not? It’s so beastly hot.” He winked. “Apologies, Merit.”
“Of course,” Merit said absently. Why did every young man think winking was cute? She made no move to indicate what she was thinking, yet somehow Tevin knew.
“It’s not creepy when I do it.”
She didn’t argue. It was true.
“I’d be delighted to refill your drink.” Tevin snatched the glass gracefully away from Freddie. “Be right back.”
Tevin eased his way into the crowd, leaving her with her would-be suitor.
Freddie offered his arm. “Let’s walk down by the lake, shall we?”
Merit followed, careful to keep her parasol from bumping his. “I see my mother has talked to you.”
