Page 30 of Seas the Reckoning

“Less than an hour left,” I remind her.

Then we can go back to Zyra’s, if only for long enough to retrieve our bags and return.

“It’s not a total bust. I have plenty of people to quiz for clues all weekend,” Starla says before grabbing and drinking from another champagne flute.

She sets the second flute down, burps behind her hand, and then adjusts her dress.

“Jackal is introducing me to someone in that crowd over there”—I gesture to the group—“if you want to take a break from dancing.”

She relaxes a fraction of an inch, then begins to follow me.

“Sounds perfect. I can spare a few minutes to mysel⁠—”

“Starla, did you know that Harry Pitt’s nephew was in attendance?” Councilman Taylor calls out to her.

“Notice how he doesn’t even crack a smile at the name,” she grumbles. “The man has no sense of humor. Well, back into the fray! I’ll try to catch you soon,” she says before throwing on the same glistening smile and swanning back to the dance floor.

I reach the group, and Jackal smiles. It’s nowhere near the genuine, warm expression he normally gives me.

“Hello again, Carolina. I saw that Councilman Taylor has been furnishing introductions for you. At the risk of overstepping, I think you’d find Claude to be a fascinating dance partner. He’s been attending these events nearly as long as Starla, so he might be able to give you the lay of the land. We’ll grab him as soon as he’s available.”

Jackal tilts his head toward one of the men I saw him speaking with earlier. Claude, I presume.

The gentleman is wearing a green suit, muted in color enough that it’s not garish. Brown hair slicked back, and glasses, with the lenses glinting in such a way as to prevent me from determining his eye color. Something else glints as he turns, and I see the top of a pin above his pocket square.

He turns our direction, one brow rising above the rim of his glasses as he takes me in.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you,” the hyena says.

My anxiety climbs, but I do my best to swallow it down. I trust Jackal.

We make our way through the small cluster of people, made up of mostly men with a few women almost literally hanging off the arms of one or two gentlemen.

“Have the rest of you had a chance to meet one of Councilman Taylor’s special guests?” Jackal asks the cluster of people who stand between us and his ultimate destination.

“Convinced him to allow more hyenas into these soirees, have you, shifter?” one of the men asks. He guffaws afterward.

“A few shifters might do this event good. Liven things up a little,” Jackal responds with a good-natured smile as I get my emotions under control. “But no, she’s a particular friend of Starla’s and was personally invited to some of the more exclusive events the councilman has on the agenda this weekend.”

This must pique their interest, because a few of the men crowd closer. One of the women narrows her eyes at me as her escort pushes her off to get a better look at me.

Claude is near the back of the throng, and all I can see of him is his face—and his hand as he lifts a glass of scotch to his lips.

“Are you an heiress?” one of the women tosses out, her mouth twisted in a sneer as though she’s already preparing to take me out as competition.

“A particularly gifted supernatural?” one of the men adds, not even blushing as he shoots the personal question in my direction.

“Or, maybe she’s another dud witch like the councilman’s daughter. Running off to America and keeping company with shifters. It’s a wonder he’s managed to convince so many respectable warlocks to consider Starla after all that,” a second woman scoffs.

I see red.

“What exactly are you implying, Lillian?” Jackal asks, voice smooth as glass. He stares at the woman, whose long, wavy brown hair is piled into an updo, without breaking eye contact.

She gulps, clearly feeling the instinct to run in the face of an angry shifter, but she doesn’t back down.

“All I’m saying is that some of us have kept ourselves in the right company since the day we were born. If I were a man here with promising prospects, I wouldn’t throw them away for some shifter’s sloppy seconds, even if the girl’s father was as powerful as the councilman.”

My throat is boiling with the urge to sing. Shifter’s sloppy seconds? Is she implying something between the witch and Jackal? She’s managed to trash-talk both of the people I love most in the world.