A loud crack cut the air. The Kraken’s mast toppled into the sea.
Relief flooded Fiona, and Rohan whooped as they raced past the Kraken to the shore.
* * *
In the setting sun, Fiona stood on the deck, a wreath of scarlet pimpernels in her hair. Nod had been so impressed with her maneuver, he’d seen fit to crown her with wildflowers.
Her entire body throbbed with fatigue.
Near the quarterdeck, Rohan was dancing a reel with Valac while Ives and Ostap sulked over their drinks. Fiona was relieved, but too exhausted to celebrate tonight.
Footsteps sounded behind her, and she turned to see Lir, his skin bathed in pearly moonlight.
“Please tell me I finally impressed you,” she said.
His face betrayed no emotion. “You let too much wind out of the sail in the shoals.”
Prick. She gritted her teeth. She’d had enough of him for one night. “Good to know. I’m going to bed.”
He could damn well jog alone tomorrow morning. She deserved a little sleep.
37
Celia
In her candlelit room, Celia slipped into a dress the color of an afternoon sky. Its neckline plunged into a deep V, and the back draped nearly to her waist. Maybe the Maremounters were prudes, but the werewolves weren’t, and this dress was perfect for the party tonight. A blueberry festival. That’s what they do here for fun. They have parties for berries.
She smiled at her reflection. Maybe she was living in a backwater village full of wolves, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy a party. At least she was finally looking like herself again. She’d taken a hot bath, and her hair and skin gleamed. What was more, she had a few reasons to celebrate. She’d mastered at least two attack spells, and she’d held her own in a spar with Alan—for thirty seconds anyway, until he’d twisted her arm behind her back.
She smoothed out her dress as she crossed the room. Pulling open her bedroom door, she hurried down the stairs to the dirt road.
Oswald had left twenty minutes ago. She had the distinct impression he’d been avoiding her since their training session yesterday morning. Had she crossed a line? Maybe she shouldn’t have pulled him close like that. Maybe it had freaked him out. She wasn’t used to scaring guys off. Then again, she’d never felt so unsure of herself around someone before. She was probably acting like a total weirdo.
Outside, a waxing moon shone on the pebbled path into town. Cool sea air howled through the rickety houses, kissing her bare neck. For the first time since they’d arrived, Mariana was supposed to come out tonight. Alan was escorting her to the festival, and he’d promised to walk her home if she started to panic.
Fiddle melodies and drums filtered through the streets, the music rhythmic and entrancing. A faint smile crossed Celia’s lips. Maybe they’d actually have fun for once.
As she drew closer to the common, she saw a field lit by tiny, floating lights that sparkled like fireflies. Someone must have spelled the common to grow wildflowers, because buttercups and blue cowslips carpeted the rocky field. And it looked like a real party. All over the glamoured common, the werewolves danced and drank from copper cups, and a small band played from the top of the rocky knoll.
Celia had come to expect flowers, drinks, and a little wildness in Dogtown. What she hadn’t expected was to arrive at the festival to find Mariana dancing with Alan. He twirled her to the captivating music, mingling among Dogtown’s witches.
At the sight of Mariana’s tentative smile, a little ice around Celia’s heart began to thaw. Fiona was gone, but at least she had Mariana.
Someone tapped her shoulder, and she jumped. It was that crazy blonde from the woods, Cadonia. Tonight, she’d dressed up in a green gown threaded with real flowers. Grinning, she thrust a cup at Celia. “Blueberry wine. Makes you feel good. Might help you find a mate.”
“Thanks. Find a mate?” Do I really look that desperate?
Cadonia sloshed her cup, and her chipmunk scuttled over the front of her dress. “That’s what we do at the festival. Find mates. At least for one night. Maremount has the mayflower festival, and we got blueberry. Same kinda thing. You know what kinda thing I mean.” She gave an exaggerated wink.
Celia had a feeling Cadonia had spent some time with the punch bowl. “I don’t think tonight’s my night for that kinda thing.” Taking a sip, she winced at the sweetness of the wine, but it warmed her throat.
“Tonight’s the night.” Cadonia jabbed a finger in Celia’s face. “You find yourself a handsome young man.” With one last grin, she stumbled back toward the punch bowl.