Part 12 (1/2)

”Of course I haven't,” she said at once.

”That's even harder to believe. There must have been some time that you saw something, something you believed was magical, but it was explained away. It happened when you were a child, I'd wager.”

”Why as a child?”

”Children are open to magic.” He took one end of the rope and began to tie it in a simple square knot. ”They're newer to this world; their minds aren't shut and demanding logic like adults.”

A gleam of recollection flickered through her mind. ”Wait...I think...” She tried to grasp it.

He stopped his busywork. ”A memory?”

”Perhaps,” she said slowly. ”I think that when I was a child, I thought a pixie used to visit me at night.” Speaking of it sharpened the remembrance. She spoke more eagerly. ”It had dragonfly wings, and its skin was the color of opals. It wore a tiny cap decorated with a hummingbird feather.”

”Did it have a name?”

London searched the caverns of her memory. ”I believe...it called itself Bryn.”

His sudden laughter made her start. ”Bryn! That old gnat!”

”You know it? The pixie?” She stared at him.

”Know him? Bryn Enfys has been keeping an eye on the Heirs for centuries.” Day shook his head, chuckling. ”He'd deliver reports to the Blades' headquarters in Southampton, and always demanded a thimble of whiskey for his trouble.”

”An odd coincidence,” she murmured. ”Him coming to visit me.”

”Not so coincidental,” he said, more seriously, ”if you're the daughter of an Heir.”

She darkened. ”He urged me to run away. He said there was something evil in my home and that I had to flee from it.”

”Bryn knew,” he said, quiet. ”He knew you were better than your family and the Heirs.”

”I wonder, though. What might have become of me, if I had heeded his advice?” She looked up at him. ”I wouldn't be here, now.” But whether that was a good thing or something to make her sad, she could not determine.

Day slipped the coil of rope over one shoulder, then took her hands in his own, keeping her reddened, chafed palms turned up. He looked at her, and she could not turn away, because she saw that here on the water, his eyes were the exact crystalline color of the sea, liquid, yes, but deeper and hotter than the sea, and he had a way of looking at her as if she, and only she, existed and it was enough for him.

”Bryn tried,” he said, his voice warm brandy and just as intoxicating. ”He tried to liberate you. For years, you've been lied to, deceived, but now your eyes are open. It's up to you alone how to live, what choices you make. You can choose anything, do anything. You're free.”

Then, he carefully lowered her hands and walked away. She stared at the s.p.a.ce where he had been and began to truly feel, for the first time, that the sea was not so much empty as it was without limits.

Chapter 7.

Natural Wonders London squeezed herself into one of the two small cabins below deck. She had the unenviable task of trying to undress and dress herself in a s.p.a.ce no bigger than a closet. She kept banging her elbows into the bulkheads. The cabin held a berth wide enough for a single man, a tiny table, and no mirror. Clearly, pride in appearance wasn't high on a seaman's list of priorities.

”And how does it fit?” Athena's voice said outside the door.

”Depends,” London said, emerging into the narrow pa.s.sageway, ”on whether I want to look like I am shrinking. If that is my goal, then I would say we succeeded admirably.”

Athena covered her mouth, but her laugh escaped anyway. ”It is a trifle...loose.”

”Loose!” London plucked at the sagging bodice of the gown borrowed from Athena. ”I've room enough to smuggle puppies.”

”A whole litter,” Athena agreed. ”I am sorry.”

”Don't apologize. It is not your fault that my bosom is deficient.”

Athena scoffed. ”Not deficient! You are slim, like a beautiful river reed. While I,” she continued, glancing down at herself, ”am built like one of those Cretan snake G.o.ddesses, all b.r.e.a.s.t.s and hips. So vulgar.”

”Womanly, not vulgar,” London disputed. She added, with a sly, female smile, ”And it seems that our captain approves.”

”Bah!” Athena threw up her hands in dismissal. ”Of course he likes the large b.r.e.a.s.t.s-he is a coa.r.s.e boor who would rut like an animal if given the chance.” The witch's gaze suddenly went far off, considering this very prospect. Her dusky cheeks flushed before she shook her head as if to clear it of a particularly robust image.

London smothered a smile and busied herself with adjusting the bodice of the gown. It was a simple but exquisitely made day gown of blue and white striped cotton with a charming bow at the waist. On Athena it would be lovely, but London was several inches shorter than the witch, and considerably less curvaceous.

”If you've a needle and thread, I might be able to make a few temporary adjustments,” London offered.

”No need for such tedious work,” Athena said with a dismissive wave. ”Let me see.” She peered closer at the sleeves. ”Too long here.” Her fingers brushed over the cuff.

London started when the cuff shrank back to the perfect length. ”Good G.o.d! Is that magic?”

The witch laughed. ”Arachne's Art, something the Galanos women have practiced for generations. Excuse me, I am not trying to get fresh.” Her hands lightly trailed over London's bosom, and the bodice s.h.i.+fted until it fit London's more modest figure.

”Seems quite convenient.”

”It is. It allows us a considerable amount more freedom than other women.” She knelt and took the hem of the dress between her fingers. ”We are not tied to our needlework. Or any man.”

”How wonderful that must be,” London said earnestly.

Athena glanced up, her eyes grave. ”Galanos women value our independence. We make our own paths in this world. If there is something we want, we take it, and do not apologize. Especially not to a man.”

London said, rueful, ”Most women aren't lucky enough to be born into the Galanos family.”

”That is true. The majority are yoked from birth. However,” Athena added, giving the hem a tug, ”you are now free to choose your path and do as you like. You have the gift of ultimate freedom.” are now free to choose your path and do as you like. You have the gift of ultimate freedom.”

London watched the hem of the dress raise until it was the exact height she needed. If the seamstresses of Paris ever found out about Arachne's Art, anarchy would follow. The fas.h.i.+on houses of France would fall just as the Bastille did.

”I am not certain it's a gift,” she admitted.

Athena rose to face London. ”It is,” she said fiercely. ”You are finally the only person in control of your life. That does not mean it will be easy, but whatever mistakes you make, the injuries you suffer, and your victories are yours yours to own.” to own.”

The witch's vehemence surprised London. It had seemed that little could disturb her calm. But London's doubt had. ”Including the affairs of my heart?”

”Especially those.” More placid, Athena brushed the hair back from London's forehead, much as an older sister might. ”Bennett can be reckless and infuriating,” she said quietly. ”But his heart is good.”

London's own heart contracted just to hear his name spoken. ”You know him well.”