“Now that’s what I’m talking about, my friends! Gods, what a woman!”
“Insufferable, arrogant ass!” Summer scowled and paced the parqueted wooden floor of the empty ballroom that connected to the banquet hall. “The nerve of him, pawning me off on his cousin, as if I’m some... some... some booby prize to be regifted to his friends!”
“Calm yourself, darling.” Spring wrapped an arm around Summer’s shoulders. “I didn’t think you liked him anyway. You spent the whole of last night avoiding him, after all.”
Summer flushed. She hadn’t meant to be quite so obvious about avoiding him at the welcome celebration, but after the shocking way she’d responded to just one simple look, she’d been running scared. And considering what had happened later down by the fjord, she’d been right to do so.
“I don’t like him,” she lied with perfect credibility. “Or rather, I don’t like him for me. You or Autumn would doubtless be a much better match for him.”
“So, you should consider his lack of interest a good thing, then.” Spring chucked a finger under Summer’s chin and regarded her with a too-observant green gaze. “Itisa good thing, isn’t it, Gabriella?”
“Of course it is! It’s just that... oh!” She pressed her hands to her hot cheeks. “I think I’m more prideful than I ever knew. No man has ever been quite so blatant about finding me lacking before.” Even though she’d Persuaded him to forget her, to believe she wasn’t the right woman for him, she hadn’t Persuaded him to compare her to something as insipid as milked tea! As ridiculous as she knew it to be, that stung! Especially since what little sleep she’d managed to get last night had been plagued by the disturbing dreams of Dilys Merimydion floating in a dark sea, his body illuminated with phosphorescent-blue tattoos, his golden eyes glowing bright, his hands outstretched—to her. And all the while, a voice had been singing a wordless song of such terrible longing that she’d awakened to a tear-stained pillow, clenched fists, and a painful, aching emptiness inside her.
“I’m afraid Dilys Merimydion’s dismissal of my charms has put quite an unattractive dent in my vanity,” she confessed.
“He’s a pig and a fool,” Viviana said stoutly, positioning herself firmly in the Defense of Summer camp. “And I wish I’d been the one to think of switching his salted water for Summerlean fire brandy. That is what you had served to him, wasn’t it?”
Summer bit her lip and nodded.
“Ha! I thought so! Once I realized what you’d done, I served him a cup of milked tea!”
Summer’s mouth fell open.
“Oh, and they know we speak Sea Tongue—or at least they know I do. I made sure to speak it when I suggested they give the dogfish or some roasted boar’s ass a try this morning.”
A bark of shocked laughter spilled out without warning. Gabriella clapped a swift hand over her mouth to stifle it and cast a nervous glance towards the closed door to the dining room. She’d met enough prideful foreign princes over the years to know that they didn’t take kindly to being laughed at—especially not after being pranked. “You didn’t!”
“Indeed I did. That’s the least of what he deserved.” Spring looped her arm through Summer’s. “Come on, little sister. Let’s go get some breakfast.”
“You go on ahead,” Gabriella said. “I need to make a quick stop. I think one of my garters is coming undone.”
“All right, but don’t be long.” Spring kissed Gabriella’s cheek and headed out to the terrace where the rest of their family was waiting.
The moment Spring was out of sight, Summer spun on her heel and headed for the nearest garderobe as quickly as she could manage without drawing attention to herself. No one crossed her path, which was good. Her hold on her customary serene mask was tenuous at best.
Once she was alone, the door to the well-appointed relief chamber closed and locked behind her, even that shaky mask fell away. She slumped against the wall and covered her face with her hands.
“Sweet Helos, Gabriella! What is wrong with you? Switching his water for fire brandy! Were you deliberately trying to unravel the Persuasions you put on him last night?”
If Spring hadn’t realized what Summer had done and acted so quickly, Dilys Merimydion’s suspicions would have been drawn to Summer—the one who’d had a private word with the servant who’d brought the “water” to the Calbernan’s table. If that had happened—if he’d seen shy Summer acting so out of character from the timid, “milked tea” image he had fixed in his mind—the surprise would have loosened the ties binding his memories.
And since the Calbernans had apparently detected the strong push of Persuasion she’d used on Dilys last night—a little fact Ryllian Ocea had let slip earlier this morning, when she’d run into him in the gardens—there would be no way to rebind those memories without drawing the attention of every Calbernan in Konumarr.
Knowing the Calbernans had detected the strong Persuasion she’d put on Dilys was troubling, to say the least. Thankfully, they seemed as oblivious to basic Persuasion as everyone else. Certainly, Ryllian hadn’t seemed to notice the soothing, “You can tell me anything. Your secrets are safe with me,” whispers she’d been using on him this morning when she’d tried to pump him for information. And although he’d had no trouble resisting her push when she’d asked about glowing blue tattoos, he wasn’t immune to her gifts. That he’d told her about the strong push of Persuasion the Calbernans had all detected last night proved that.
Still, in retrospect, asking Dilys’s cousin about glowing blue tattoos was its own special brand of stupid. If he mentioned her inquiry to Dilys, it could undermine her Persuasions as surely as letting Dilys see her acting out of character. She’d only attempted it because sometime during the long, restless, insomnia-laden hours of the night she’d come to the staggeringly brilliant conclusion that Dilys Merimydion must have worked some sort of secret Calbernan magic on her to make her want him so badly.
Now, she realized how ridiculous those suspicions were. Dilys’s “milked tea” remark made it humiliatingly obvious that without the force of whatever had passed between them last night clouding his judgment, he wasn’t even remotely interested in her! He’d offered her up to his cousins, for Halla’s sake!
The sound of sizzling yanked her out of her agitated thoughts, and not a moment too soon. All the scented water left out for guests to wash their hands had boiled away. The rose petals that had been floating on the water’s surface were now crisped bits of char at the bottom of the empty bowl, and the air in the room was hot and dry. A few minutes more, and the room would have burst into flame.
Horrified, Summer clamped down hard on her magic.
She’d very nearly lost control—something that hadn’t happened in almost twenty years. And considering how many layers upon layers of binding spells and controls she’d spent a lifetime constructing and strengthening to keep her magic suppressed, no stupid offhand remark Dilys made to his cousins—no matter how hurtful—should have been able to rip through her shields so effortlessly.
The fact that it had meant something was terribly wrong with her.
Something that had nothing to do with Dilys Merimydion. Something that explained all the disturbing spikes of emotion she’d been experiencing since coming to Konumarr. The ferocious desire for a child of her own. The bursts of Persuasion she hadn’t meant to use. The crazy, driven way she’d responded to Dilys Merimydion. And of course, her uncharacteristic fury over Dilys’s dismissal of her charms.
