From two stories below, a deep, bell-like tone sounded. It took me a moment to figure out it must be the gong.
“Well, one fact is that we are due down to dinner in half an hour.” Logan rose lithely to his feet and held out a hand to help me up. “They make the cook pound that goddamn thing twice. Thirty minutes before and on the dinner hour exactly. Othala help me, I’m falling into the frigging routine around here.”
He looked so horrified at the idea, I couldn’t help but smile. When he smiled too, I knew he’d been trying to cheer me up, which confused me.
“We’re in this thing together, Demetria,” he said as if he’d read my mind. Had he? Could sea witches read minds? “Whatever happens, it’s us against the world. Can you deal with that?”
“I’d probably give up without even trying if not for you,” I admitted baldly. “And I don’t know you. That’s the craziest part.”
“Ah, I walked in and saw you naked in the bathtub. Things like that make people skip over the beginning of their relationship and plunge straight into the middle. Not crazy at all.” He smiled at me, and I smiled back even though I was mortified all over again at the idea of him seeing me naked. Logan somehow made it easy to talk to him. He’d never know how grateful I was for that.
Someone knocked on the open door. We looked around to see a tall woman in a maid’s uniform carrying a scarlet dress.
“I am to dress you for dinner,” she announced, her expression neutral so I couldn’t tell whether the idea revolted her or left her completely unmoved.
“That’s my cue to get dressed myself. Wait till you see the suit they make me wear to dinner. I feel like a horse’s ass.”
“It can’t be that bad,” I said with a small laugh. How did this man possess the power to make me smile at a time like this? Must have been his magic.
“You’ll see,” he predicted in dire tones he ruined with laughter as he left.
Chapter 5
I’d put up my hair before, but never in such an elaborate up-do as the one the Lady Regent’s maid arranged. Tendrils fluttered around my cheeks as I hurried down the staircase, one hand gripping the rail so I wouldn’t plunge down them in the unfamiliar high heels, the other hoisting up the heavy skirt of the red dress. I’d never worn a long dress before. It was sleeveless, which showcased the lurid bruises rising on my arms, and the maid lamented there wasn’t time to fetch me gloves.
Once at the bottom of the staircase, I realized I had no idea where the dining room was, and the mansion was big enough that no food smells drifted down the hallways.
I stood there like a dunce, aware that the second gong had sounded. The maid had been putting the final touches to my hair when we heard it. She’d turned milky white, let out a gasp as if someone had stabbed her in the gut, and hissed at me to start running. The Lord Regent hated it when people were late to table. Of course, running in the high heels she’d brought for me wasn’t an option unless I wanted to break my neck, so I’d walked as fast as I could. Wobbled like a drunken fool was more like it.
“Been waiting for you.” Logan detached himself from a shadowy corner and sauntered over to me. His suit was far from unbecoming. In fact, the rich fabric and expensive cut elevated him into a stratosphere of gorgeous I couldn’t stop staring at.
“And the wait was most definitely worth it.” He eyed me up and down with such frank appreciation I blushed. Heat shimmered between us, rendering me breathless. He leaned closer as if he meant to kiss me.
“Your suit’s not bad,” I blurted to diffuse the intoxicating but bewildering energy
“I do look like a horse’s ass, don’t I?” He picked self-consciously at a silver cuff link. For the first time I realized he was as uncomfortable surrounded by wealth and privilege as I was. Of course, he was a sea witch, and none of them lived a lifestyle like this, but he’d seemed so adaptable. Amused at everything, not scared of it like me.
“How come you didn’t shave?” I asked because – oh, Othala he was beautiful – his beard stubble, while sexy, didn’t seem in keeping with the Lord Regent’s expectations.
He grinned, his self-confidence restored. “You have to pick your battles here. You’ll never win the war, but you can carry off the honors in a skirmish if you strategize. They can make me wear these ridiculous clothes, but I’m damned if I’ll shave. They’ll have to hold me down the way they did when they chopped off my hair. And that didn’t go well for them.” His eyes narrowed and the veins in his neck bulged for a moment as he struggled with anger.
“Your hair?” I whispered, remembering the way he’d pulled his fingers through it when he was agitated earlier. As if he were used to longer hair. I’d been right, but I’d never suspected he’d been forced into a haircut.
“Used to be halfway down my back,” he confided, a look of pride drifting across his face. He saw my confusion and added, “It’s a witch thing. We like long hair.”
I remembered burning my black clothes on the beach to distance myself from looking like a witch, and how I’d refused to even consider cutting my hair. Some things must be instinctive. Even Mother kept her hair long when all the other women her age had it shoulder length or above.
“Why do they care how long your hair is?” Resentment darkened my voice.
“It’s a reminder of what we are. At least you can get away with it. Long hair is always in fashion for women no matter what class of society they move in.” Logan reached out to touch one of the tendrils and moved it off my cheek. As before when we’d shaken hands, his touch galvanized. Something about his hands was electric.
“I like your short hair,” I told him. I pictured him with long hair and nearly swooned. If he’d still had long hair I would probably be a puddle of goo on the floor right now.
“Thanks,” he said with a wry smile. “I still don’t recognize myself in the mirror sometimes. I hate that. Like these clothes. They’re trying to strip away our identities.” He cupped my face within his palms, and I lost the ability to breathe. “No matter what they do to us, we’re not going to forget ourselves. Tell me you won’t let them do that to you.”
A ragged laugh escaped my lips. “I don’t even know who I am. This morning I was a normal person living in an average neighborhood in the Seawall North district. Tonight I’m an earth witch. A sea-cursed earth witch at that.”
“They’ll try to mess with your head. Make you think you’re beneath them. Don’t let them get away with that.” Logan leaned so close to my face I could see his individual eyelashes. No man should have had the right to possess such long eyelashes. “Most of all, don’t let them think you’re intimidated by their fancy clothes and arrogant attitudes. We’re going to walk into the dining room like we own it, not like we’re apologetic peons sorry for being late. You with me?” He extended his arm, and I took it more for support than solidarity in the face of our mutual enemy.
Truth be told – I was terrified. Not only of being late to dinner with the Lord Regent and members of his council, but because I was sure I wouldn’t recognize half the utensils on the table or which courses I ought to use them. If they tried to make conversation with me, I would sit there like a fish out of water gasping miserably for air.
Logan must have seen the panic in my eyes because he squeezed my arm. “Screw ’em, Demetria. Hold your head up high. You have power that frightens them. Don’t ever forget that.”
Words. Big, empty words. If only I had half his confidence, but I had none. Less than none. Still, I must go into the dining room. I didn’t want to be dragged in. The best I could hope for was to not to cry. If I didn’t cry, I would consider the ordeal a success.
What seemed like a hundred people, but was more likely close to a dozen, were seated around the largest, most ornate dining table I’d ever seen. Every chair but two were occupied – mostly by intimidating men in suits.
Conversation ceased when Logan and I stepped through the doorway. He halted, forcing me to do the same. An aggressive smile spread across his
face. I kept my expression wooden. Or at least I hoped I did. My terror had rendered me blank and mute.
Cold gazes raked us up and down, and although no one said anything for a long moment, their stiff body language delivered the message loud and clear that they didn’t like us being late, nor did they like seeing us together.
Maybe Logan had the right of it – they were, on some level, frightened of our power. I stifled panicky laughter. If they knew I didn’t have the first clue how to use my power, they wouldn’t be half so apprehensive.
“How nice of you both to join us.” The acidity in the Lord Regent’s voice could have dissolved steel. “Won’t you be seated?” He gestured toward the empty chairs. They weren’t together, and my stomach sank. I might be marginally fine with Logan holding me up, but when I had to sit between and across from strangers, what would I do?
“I know it’s against convention to place two women side by side, but I believe in breaking the rules.” A pale woman in a gold dress patted the empty seat beside her. The Lord Regent scowled, and I was paralyzed. What was I supposed to do? If I refused to sit beside her, I would be rude. If I ignored the blatant wishes of the Lord Regent, it might be suicide.
Logan gave me a gentle push, effectively sealing my fate.
“Thank you,” I managed to say to the pale woman as I sat, yanking at my skirt so it wouldn’t bunch up beneath my rump.
“How beautiful you look in that dress.” The woman gave me what appeared to be a genuine smile. “You do it more justice than I did, red’s never been my color. I see Matilda has given you one from last season. I can soon remedy that. After dinner, you must come to my room with me, and I’ll make sure to give you some dresses from this season. As well as casual wear. I didn’t see the guards retrieve any luggage from the carriage, so I assume there wasn’t time to pack any of your belongings?”
Every word she spoke seemed to deepen the Lord Regent’s palpable rage. Other men around the table frowned. Logan’s wide grin scared me as he took his chair farther down the table. He shouldn’t show his amusement so plainly.
Or what? What would happen? Nothing had happened so far, and he’d been just this short of insolent in my opinion. Still, I wasn’t about to test my luck.
“Surely clothing can be found for her so that you needn’t bother.” The Lord Regent bit off his words as if he wanted to grind them to dust between his teeth.
“Why, David.” The Lady Regent, for that was who she must be, blinked wide, blue eyes in her husband’s direction. “Wasn’t it you who instructed Matilda to give the earth witch one of my dresses? What are a few more? As you always say, I’ve got more clothing than I know what to do with.”
The Lady Regent pressed a small hand against my arm. “I’m sorry to refer to you as the earth witch, but I wasn’t told your name.”
“Demetria,” I said, and winced as my voice echoed around the silent room. Either the acoustics were incredible, or I’d shouted. Othala, I wished I were anywhere else. She was being nice to me, but she must have ulterior motives. Perhaps needling her husband in front of his council was more the aim of her conversation than trying to make me feel welcome.
“Demetria,” she said. “I am honored to meet you.” Now she stared at me with the same fervor as Captain Clark. I revised my ideas. Maybe she did mean to make me feel as if I truly belonged at this table.
“I’m honored to meet you, Lady Regent,” I whispered gratefully.
“Please call me Regina. I’m not much for formality.”
The Lord Regent cleared his throat aggressively. “Nevertheless, this is a formal occasion, and the earth witch will respect you. We will not be overly familiar at this table.”
“In that case you’ll need to tell me your last name because I certainly won’t address you as earth witch,” the Lady Regent said, her mouth tight.
“But that’s what she is, Lady Regent,” Logan spoke up from the other side of the table. “We don’t mind being called what we are. Do we...earth witch?” He fixed his steady blue gaze on me. I wanted to dive under the table. I did not want to be called earth witch. I didn’t want to be called anything. If I had my way, I’d be sitting in the kitchen at home around the dinner table with my parents. Of course, that was an impossibility, and I shouldn’t think about it. Only how did I shut off my desires? Perhaps by focusing on reality and this dinner table. Easy to say, so hard to do.
Logan’s gaze never wavered from mine, and I knew he expected me to respond. I took a deep breath.
“No, we don’t. Sea witch.” I hated calling him that, but I hoped it didn’t show. He gave me a long, slow smile, and a small spurt of elation thrilled me as if I’d passed some test.
The more I thought about it, the more diabolical I realized Logan must be. Now the whole table must refer to us as witches and that acknowledged our power – especially since they must be careful not to make the words sound rude and degrading since this was a formal dinner.
“Matilda!” The Regent picked up a silver bell by his elbow and rang it angrily.
A swing door that connected the dining room to the kitchen swung open. Matilda bustled in self-importantly bearing a tray containing small, ruby red dishes of shrimp on beds of lettuce with dollops of cocktail sauce in the center. Panic built inside me. Was this finger food or did we use a fork? Which fork? At home we used our fingers when we had shrimp cocktail, but this was a formal dinner in Regents Row. What if I dripped sauce on the expensive table cloth? Perhaps I wouldn’t use sauce, that might be the best decision.
With an obsequiousness that sickened me, Matilda placed dishes before the Lord Regent and his council. She managed to covertly sneer when delivering mine and Logan’s. Othala, what if she’d spat – or worse – in ours?
My stomach turned. I remembered the shrimp Mr. Eden had sold me earlier today. How it had spilled all over the dirt with the rest of my purchases when the lightning struck me. Mother and I wouldn’t eat those shrimp for lunch now. We’d never sit at the kitchen table together, sharing the day and our inside jokes again. I wish I’d treasured yesterday more. I’d never suspected it had been the last time.
“Don’t you like shrimp?” The Lady Regent gazed at me with such concern, a lump formed in my throat.
“My mother and I used to love it in our lunch salads,” I whispered. I hunched my shoulders. What on Othala had possessed me to say that? She would think I was crazy.
“You weren’t even allowed to say goodbye, were you?” The Lady Regent’s voice shook with suppressed anger. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-one last birthday,” I answered, shamefully aware I was acting more like sixteen.
“When I was twenty-one, I met the Lord Regent,” she told me as she dipped a shrimp into the cocktail sauce. She used a tiny fork. “I remember how everything seemed so vitally life and death, down to the smallest decision such as what necklace to wear.” She patted my hand. “It’ll pass. Age will fix that.”
“You talk as if she’ll grow older,” Logan spoke up from halfway down the table. Had everyone in the room been listening to our conversation? My cheeks heated. “But the witches marked by Othala are supposed to die after Reutterance.” He grinned and popped a shrimp into his mouth using his fingers. He chewed but didn’t swallow. “At least that’s the rumor.”
Uncomfortable silence gripped the people seated around the table. I wanted to laugh even as I wanted to shriek in panic. Logan was forcing them to tell us what our future held. At a formal dinner party no less.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t take such stock in rumor.” The Lord Regent pushed his red dish aside. “I don’t believe we will discuss the spell of Reutterance at the table.”
“Maybe we should,” Logan said with a shrug. “You want it to work, don’t you?”
The Lord Regent stared at him, his jaw tight. “Of course I do. Even you, rebellious as you are, can hardly want a different outcome considering the alternative.”
Logan grinned and shoved another shrimp into his mo
uth. My stomach clenched both from hunger and from anxiety. I didn’t want anything to happen to him. I wanted to tell him to stop pushing, but I could say nothing.
Beside me, the Lady Regent sat still, barely even breathing.
“Did it not shock you even a little to discover the earth witch in a middle-class neighborhood in Seawall North instead of Seawall South with the rest of the earth witches?” Logan sucked a bit of cocktail sauce from his middle finger before pushing aside his empty shrimp dish.
“See here? Is that true?” A corpulent man stuffed into a suit a size too small exclaimed. His walrus-like moustache quivered. “What on Othala was she doing there?”
“Living with her parents,” Logan responded, although I didn’t believe the question had been directed to him. “Completely oblivious she was a witch.”
Walrus Moustache goggled at me. “Unbelievable! How can someone not know they’re a witch? You people cast spells as easily as you breathe.”
“A truly non-magical observation,” Logan said.
Walrus Moustache bristled. “Respect, boy! You’ll respect me. I’m a member of the council!”
“Councilman, you’ll address him as sea witch, please.” The Lady Regent’s blue eyes flashed.
Walrus Moustache had the grace to blush, but perhaps it was more anger at being called out than actual embarrassment. “Sea witch,” he said with a scathing look at Logan.
“Respect generally works better going both ways,” Logan said, causing Walrus Moustache to nearly have apoplexy.
“As I was trying to say, Councilman. It’s not that easy to cast spells. It requires a lot of study and practice. And a mentor or two. Things the earth witch never had. So if you expect her to obediently sail off into the sunset and pull off the biggest spell any earth witch will ever cast and save us all, you’re dreaming. Unless, that is, some action is taken to address her lack of training.” Logan leaned back in his chair and stared at us all.
“This is...this is dreadful!” Walrus Moustache cried, breaking the appalled silence that had greeted Logan’s words. “Lord Regent, how do you intend to address this alarming situation?”
Sea Cursed: An Adult Dystopian Paranormal Romance: Sector 13 (The Othala Witch Collection) Page 5
