talented daughters. And it’s true, they do cost quite a bit to keep up with, but it’s never bothered me before. Pontus has blessed our family with wealth, and it’s a privilege spending it to keep my girls happy and beautiful. However, recent events have given me pause. You see, there’s something wrong with my girls’ feet.”
“Their…feet?” the High Mariner asked, looking to each of my sisters in turn.
The guests eyed each other nervously, everyone wanting to peek under the table to see what horrible talons hid under our skirts.
“They go through shoes faster than anyone I’ve ever known. I bought them new shoes, costly slippers, just before the triplets’ birthday. All worn out. I let them go to town to buy new ones—already, those are frayed and unraveling. Every other day, they’re begging to go into town for new shoes, and now I hear from my own staff that the triplets have been asking to borrow the maids’ extra shoes.”
I shot a quick glance at Rosalie. They’d all promised to stop dancing for Churning. She looked into her lap, avoiding my gaze. Even the Graces looked cagey.
“At first, I thought it was to keep up with the latest fashions, acquiring more and more for their collections, but no. The leather is cracked and worn thin, splitting at the seams.”
“How odd,” Amelia said. “Perhaps something is wrong with the cobbler’s goods?”
“That’s what I thought, that’s what I thought!” Papa cried, taking a great gulp of wine.
Morella reached up to pull him to his seat, but he squirmed from her grasp, eager to continue his tale.
“I arrived home from Vasa just days ago and had to make an immediate trip to Astrea to berate and rail against this poor cobbler for selling my daughters bad shoes. But it wasn’t him. The fault, you see, lies with the girls.”
The guests shifted toward us. Cassius stared at me, pondering Papa’s words. I looked down, a rush of heat flaring across my cheeks. Pressing a fork into my fillet, I pulled the fish apart until it was nothing more than a pile of flakes.
The cold, dead eyes of the sailfish seemed to glare at me too.
“ ‘No other customers have complained,’ the cobbler says. Not one. Just my girls. They must be sabotaging them, but I’m at a loss to say how or why. Perhaps you can get it from them.”
“Let’s see these shoes!” Captain Bashemk exclaimed.
“Yes!” his first mate cheered, emboldened by drink. “Show us the shoes!”
“Ladies?” Papa asked.
We stared at him blankly. This was not how First Night was supposed to go. He swished his arm, indicating we stand up. After a moment of hesitation, we pulled the skirts of our dresses to the side, showing our shoes. I was wearing my second pair of slippers from Astrea. I’d not gone dancing since Edgar died, and the leather was still strong and free of scuffs.
Regnard bent over, examining Lenore’s feet. “Ortun, you’re right. These shoes are thoroughly worn out. How do you even keep them on your feet, child?”
Lenore froze, terrified to be called out in front of so many people. “Papa won’t buy us any others,” she admitted, cringing.
“Ortun, surely you’re joking,” Amelia asked. “It’s winter now. You can’t have your daughters traipsing around barefoot in the snow.”
Papa seemed more amused than angry. “Find out what mischief they’re up to and I’ll fix that. I’ll even buy you a pair, Millie! The prettiest slippers in all of Salann!”
Everyone laughed.
“No, I mean it, I mean it!” he cried gaily. “I’ll buy pairs for the whole table if you can figure out what is going on!”
“I don’t think I’d do well with shoes as dainty as Miss Annaleigh’s,” Captain Morganstin said, chuckling, as he leaned over to study mine. “But, Ortun, you’ve been exaggerating. These shoes look fine to me. There’s not a scratch on them.”
“That’s true, that’s true. Annaleigh is the only one who hasn’t come around asking for more,” Papa agreed, his eyes increasingly glassy. Morella set a glass of water in front of him, but he patently ignored it.
“How curious!” Amelia said. “What are you doing differently, Annaleigh?”
Camille’s stare weighed on me, and I raised my shoulders, admitting nothing.
“See? Can’t get a word from any of them!” To Morella’s relief, Papa sat down, resting his elbows on the table. “It’s maddening. I’m almost willing to offer up my estate to find out what’s behind all this!”
“Say, now, there’s an idea!” Captain Bashemk exclaimed, needling Ethan in the ribs.