“Thank you for making me look acceptable,” Neris says.
I roll my tight shoulders. “You don’t just look acceptable.” I admire her heart-shaped face and the glow in her cheeks thanks to the rouge. She isn’t the healthiest, but she’d certainly make a few heads turn tonight. She’s more stunning than any highborn. “One more thing though.” I open the drawer and hold my hand out, summoning a gold necklace with a dainty circular diamond. It floats into the palm of my hand and Neris rolls her eyes.
“Show off,” she says with a giggle.
I wouldn’t dare to use my terraforging in front of anyone other than Neris. “Did you take your elixir?”
Neris turns to let me clasp the necklace at the back of her neck. “I did.”
Eventually, we head downstairs to suffer through dinner.
A few others join—a couple of proprietors from right here in Barr na Cahar and a book collector from Darragh. Lord Murtagh, a longtime friend of Father’s from the Outer Isles, is the last to join us just as we’re migrating to the dining room. The lilt of his accent is jarring among the aristocratic pretense of theevening; I find it a welcome difference. In fact, I’m mesmerized by it.
From the corner of the dining room, a lone violinist plays a drab tune throughout our meal, but Lord Murtagh remains the most intriguing. I remember Neris and I watching him spar with Father when we were children. He’d offered me his sword once and was flabbergasted when I held up the weight without much effort. The memory makes me smile.
Tonight, he keeps everyone entertained with tales of occasional seafaring and trades with marauders from Uldarvik. It sounds so exciting that I want to follow him home when dinner is finished. I want to livehislife instead of the one I’ve been born into. Only Mother seems disinterested in Murtagh’s stories andpolitelyredirects the conversation back to business discussions of material acquisition from Ballygort and Ballybaeg.
“What if you cut out the middleman and go straight to Cluain Baile for dyeing plants? It’s not entirely difficult to create dyes. Just a wee bit more elbow grease.”
Mother pins him with a death stare. “The middleman is not an issue, Lord Murtagh.”
“I ken, but think of the adventures, and the attainable skills.” His cerulean eyes turn to me. “Do you still enjoy art, young Gwyneth?”
“Gwyneth has no time for art these days, Lord Murtagh,” Mother interrupts, and I swallow the eageryesthat was about to slip from my lips. “Between her studies and marriage?—”
“Studies?” Murtagh’s discernible gaze doesn’t leave mine. “What are you studying?”
“Gwyneth is quite the astute historian already,” says Mother, once more cutting me off just as I pull in a breath to respond.
“Does Gwyneth know how to speak for herself?”
All eyes snap to Murtagh, then to Mother. Anyone else would’ve probably apologized, or at least given me the chance to speak. But Mother lifts her dimpled chin, the face of stubborn courage, and says, “She certainly does, but she’s too humble to brag.”
Well played.
“I see.” Lord Murtagh casts me a look that says he doesn’t believe a word.
Not quite sure what to say, I shrug. From across the table, Neris gives me a look that saysspeak.
“I prefer to keep an air of mystery,” I say, and Neris scrunches up her face at my terrible comeback. I want to kick her, but the table is too wide.
Murtagh’s boisterous laughter cuts through the tension, and I release a slow breath. “You are more than welcome to visit my estate at any time, young Gwyneth,” says Murtagh. “The views are breathtaking, and my daughters will be grateful to have another young woman around. If it’s alright with your husband, of course.”
I smile politely, refusing to look at Gruffud, afraid of what I’d find on his face. “Thank you, Lord Murtagh.”
Mother gives me a look that sayswe’ll talk later, and now I’m truly grateful that I took my elixir.
It’s going to be a long night.
We finish our courses of roasted quail, lambchops, potatoes in a hearty brown gravy, and a smattering of vegetables. I idly contemplate how the staff managed to get so many vegetables when the vegetation growth this year has been increasingly appalling. The gathering eventually moves to the sitting room, where everyone’s engaged in various conversations.
I sip a floral wine that tastes an awful lot like perfume and try to keep a pleasant smile on my face, contributing to any conversation only when spoken to. The evening seems to dragon, and Neris looks a little pale. I wonder if she’s lied to me about taking her tonic for whatever reason. I’m momentarily distracted from Neris by Lady Mari’s pretentious titter.
The amount of phoniness in this room is almost suffocating. I pull my pocket watch from the skirt of my dress and peer at the gold hands again. We’re within the ninth evening hour. Already, I feel the dull ache settling into my joints, something not even the elixir can completely eradicate.
“Dessert is served!” a servant calls out from the kitchen door.
As everyone stands to file back into the dining room, I hang back to check on Neris. I lean close to her, but someone grasps my arm with unnecessary force. I fight the urge to shove them away.
