Page 41

three

.

.

.

Selene

My first coffee of the day was nearly perfect.

Perfectly brewed, certainly, but I missed the milk we got in Nuva Troi.

Mother and Father reclined in their deck chairs, talking softly to one another.

I didn't bother to try to hear what they were saying. It was either something horrifically vicious, or they were plotting about who to auction me off to.

Upon my return to the cottage the previous evening, Mother informed me that I had one last chance to find someone to pair with on my own, since my last season had been such a spectacular failure. I'd been out for more time than was fashionable and never so much as danced with a suitor.

Neither of my parents liked my plan to be a spinster and their heir.

But I was already a spinster and their heir.

It was impossible to understand why they were so insistent that I add a spouse into the mix.

When Mother explained it to me, all she could come up with was, "This is how it is done , Selene."

Their "options" for me were hideous.

Old men, mostly.

Disgustingly wealthy old men.

I'd told them dozens of times that I much preferred women or those who eschewed gender altogether. Father's answer to that had been, "Find someone with money and a bit of sense, and pair with them then. I don’t really care! Just marry." He’d said it so matter-of-factly that I didn’t doubt the truth of the matter, but ?I hadn’t met anyone that made me want to settle down.

It wasn’t that I believed my pairing would be a love match.

That was too much to hope for, given how hard my parents had worked to wrestle their way this far up the social food chain.

They loved one another, but I would be forced to marry rich.

That was well-enough, but I refused to marry someone who bored me.

And so we’d reached an impasse.

Another sip of my nearly-perfect coffee helped to clear my head.

If I was going to weasel my way out of my parents' plans, I was going to have to put off stealing The Book of Hours and find someone to distract them. A long engagement would likely do the trick. I just needed to find someone to keep their attention for long enough that I could get the Book . Once I had it, things would change.

There was a reward for the Book’s return, and it meant being the hero of the Order of Mysteries. The sorcière that returned it wouldn’t need to pair for status or wealth. They would have more than enough of both.

Once I had the Book safely back in the Order’s hands, I could focus on bringing the Monas to its true glory. My father had bought the building on a whim, years ago, and started the bookstore, but his heart had never been in it. And Mother hadn't attention for much of anything other than her figures and her figure.

I was surprised they'd managed to stay focused on my prospects for so long.

If I could get The Book of Hours , I could make a name for my family, and it wouldn’t matter if I had a spouse or children. A wistful ache clenched in my chest when I thought of children. As little as I thought of spouses, children were another story altogether. My eyes misted over as I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms to keep from weeping.

Wanting children, but not a spouse, was something I was struggling to wrap my mind around. Especially since it was less a matter of not wanting any spouse at all, but not wanting just any spouse. Frustration set another few bricks around the wall in my heart. The higher it got, the less likely it seemed there was a way to get what I wanted. No one had ever been right, and maybe that was the way it would stay.

“Is something wrong, darling?” Mother called out to me from her chair.

I pushed a loose strand of my hair back from my face. “Nothing at all, just a bit of sand in my eye. I’m going for a walk.”

She started to say something, but I was already up and off the deck, my sandals in hand as I walked towards the empty beach, traversing the dune that blocked our cottage’s direct view of the sea. When I crested the hill of sand, I turned back, waving to Mother and Father. Neither waved back. They were already deep in conversation again. It was forever that way with them. I wasn’t sure why they’d even had me.

I’d always been an intruder in their relationship. They couldn’t wait to have me out of the house. That much was clear. The wind on the beach was high today, the white-capped waves pounding the rocky shoreline by the cottage. Dunes gathered behind the rocks, creating stark contrasts between water, waves and the sugary hills that collapsed upon one another. I walked for long enough that my parents would lose sight of me and then tucked myself into a warm patch of sand.

The early summer air still held a chill, but the sun had baked this protected side of the dune as it rose over the bay. In the distance, someone made their way down the stone sea stairs. I squinted, bringing my hand to my forehead, hardly believing my luck. It was the woman from Geyrion Wyndsal’s house. She was dressed in a pair of cropped canvas trousers and a striped button-down shirt without a jacket. She also wore a pair of boat shoes that had been massively popular last winter, and very expensive.

The entire ensemble had the look of effortless masculine glamour, made more alluring by the contrast of the woman’s pale skin and ruffled dark hair. I was impressed. The heavy weight of the morning’s thoughts lifted. This bit of luck was buoying. There was no way she hadn’t seen me spotting her, so it was useless to affect some artifice of being otherwise occupied.

As she neared, I waved, plastering on my most winning smile. Something was going to work out for me this summer. I would make certain of it.