Wolves at the Door - Lidiya Foxglove Page 0,79
for this level of hot and bothered. I had never been with a man before, but it wasn’t for lack of wanting it.
And yet, there was something in his eyes that didn’t match his words. Something guarded. I knew what guarded looked like. Why hadn’t I seen it before? What was he hiding from me?
“You won’t be matched according to what power you have, what money you have, or anything of that nature. You’ll be chosen because of intuition. The lord who chooses to be with you—with us, in fact—will choose us for a reason. He’ll choose you because you suit him, and the fates shall agree.”
“And what about me?”
“You’ll surely agree as well—or your life will be long and miserable, won’t it?” His hand slipped away from my skin, leaving a tingle in its wake, and I straightened up.
Who do you trust in this world?
What did it say about me that not a single person sprung to mind?
Chapter
Daisy
Oh well. Onto one of my favorite subjects: clothes. I needed to know what the situation was around here, because I was used to having a world of designer clothing available. If there was one thing my grandmother and I agreed on, it was dressing to impress, stun, or kill.
When Grandmother was young, she was hawt, I mean, like most witches she lived a long time so she was a teenager in the 1940s and a young married in the 1950s and she had hats, gloves, leather bags, heels, perfume in deco bottles, furs, cigarette holders and cases, brushes with ivory handles…
I don’t know how many different animals died for her wardrobe. I tried not to think about that part, because I like animals, but let’s just say a lot. I’m sure they were all blessed and thanked for their sacrifice, at least. Witches knew you have to thank the land if you want to keep taking stuff from it.
When I was growing up, she had a dressing room with all that stuff still in it, the old hat boxes and everything, and she still wore them. Witch fashion changed very slowly. Circe’s Monthly, the oldest witch’s magazine, still had spreads where young women wore hats with feathers, gloves, and never ever pants, all designed by old magical fashion houses in Europe, so that was Grandmother. She never went out without her hat and a dress. The dresses were the one thing where I was old-fashioned too. I almost never wore pants. Like, I knooow. “Pants are very practical, Daisy!” That’s why I didn’t like them. I prefer looking impractical at all times, like I need a manservant to pick things up for me.
In this regard, I think the faeries and me were gonna get on fine.
Lady Melis took me down a narrow boardwalk path through the fenland (her words, not mine, I would have called it a swamp but I guess that wasn’t very poetic). The boardwalk had wooden railings carved from beautiful wood that curved in natural angles and felt soft and smooth under my hands, practically begging me to slide my fingers along them as we walked. Under the boardwalk, the water was thick with aquatic flowers and unusual plants.
“The other humans are already getting dressed,” she said, “while Queen Morgana met with you.”
“We prefer to be called witches,” I said. “Not humans. Humans don’t have magic.”
“The other witches, then,” she said graciously, but it was a grace that humored me. So far the faeries were not very friendly, which is what I expected. “I apologize that the conditions here are humble. This is Queen Morgana’s winter retreat where she likes to relax away from the court and she can swim through the cold season.”
“You’re the water faeries, hmm?” I said. Lady Melis, like Queen Morgana, had webbed hands.
“Yes, Queen Morgana is of the House of Coral, one of the great water faery clans. I am of the House of Mangrove and the winter palace is here in my own families’ lands. But there are many other houses and the thirteen most powerful with unmarried sons will be choosing from you and the other witches. I don’t envy their choice…”
That was definitely a swipe at my girls, as she showed me into the dressmaker’s hut.
It was a small two-story cottage resting on stilts, accessed by the watery paths. It was constructed from wood that had turned gray and weathered, and it had a roof that overhang the building with vines and moss growing over everything. The windows were numerous