Page 40 of Seas the Reckoning

Our outfits have already been chosen, pressed, and set out by maids within the manor. As my best friend is getting changed, there’s a knock on the door. Another witch enters and hides Starla’s tattoos and the blue in her hair for the day.

“Thank you,” Starla mutters, even though she sounds like she’s chewing glass to force the niceties out. She dons a blush-pink dress that hits her at her knees, with a portrait collar.

She looks like a doll. And not at all like herself.

My own dress is a muted green, pleated and with a blazer neckline.

The material is high-end but much more restrictive than the flowing sundresses people might wear in Carolina Beach, and infinitely less comfortable than the shorts and t-shirts the two of us normally wear.

Starla pulls at the neckline of her dress, even though it leaves plenty of room.

“I wish we had Shanell here. She could handle my tattoos and hair, then swap them back the moment I was back in my own rooms. And she’d do a better job. Look at my skin tone.”

She holds out an arm, and I can see where the witch who worked on her has left the complexion on her arms mottled.

“We could always call her, but I think she’s where she needs to be,” I say.

Starla huffs.

“You’re right. Instincts. I’d much rather have her monitoring Carolina Beach than chasing around after me just to vanish tattoos periodically. A waste of her talents.”

“Who’s your date for breakfast?” I ask Starla.

“Piers. A good dozen years my senior and very traditional. But he does own yachts. Multiple.”

“And mine?”

She shrugs.

“No idea.”

I recall Arloc discussing lunch with the councilman yesterday, but breakfast is a mystery. I’m simultaneously hoping and dreading that it will be Claude so I can attempt to dig more into the crest he wears.

We make our way to the entrance of the manor, where Councilman Taylor’s butler tells us that we will be dining in the gardens.

We’re taken to a gazebo surrounded by vibrant flowers. The table is laden with china plates and I can see a small side table with carafes of juice, coffee, milk, water, and a teapot at the ready. There are two staff members, and our dates. But no Councilman Taylor.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll be demanding a recap from me later,” Starla whispers before turning a beatific smile on her date.

Piers pulls out a chair for her. He’s got a thin moustache above his top lip, a few shades darker than his hair. It reminds me of a caterpillar.

“Lovely to see you again, Starla.” He turns to me. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Piers Lonsworth the third,” he says.

Starla bats her eyelashes, looking positively besotted.

“He’s the head defense lawyer of a firm representing supernatural clients—and a warlock with a key for memories,” she divulges, as if she’s thoroughly impressed.

He grins.

“I don’t alter them, at least not if the opposing counsel is asking. I merely obscure the memories, make the ones not useful to us more fuzzy.”

Positively horrifying.

“Pleased to meet you,” I say.

The vampire steps up, bowing at the waist.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Carolina. Starla.” Arloc acknowledges my best friend, who nods her head in response.