Page 34 of Wateredge

“You can shove your puritanical little principles where the sun doesn’t shine, Seren Crowhart. You’re not fooling me. And by the looks of it, you’re not fooling Aunt Vicky either. She’s onto you.”

“Onto me for what, for crying out loud?”

“Very soon, she will be up here demanding you do right by the family name. Along the lines of, you are thirty-five, Seren, and even your good-for-nothing baby sister, the gorgeous one, the charming one, has finally sown her wild barleys and settled down.” Deryn mimicked their aunt perfectly.

“You seem to be the only one doing said speech here, oh, dubiously gorgeous one. And it’s oats.”

“It’s grain. Same difference. Also, I’m just giving you the rehearsal, so to speak, before the grand performance starring Victoria Crowhart. At least Ceridwen won’t be joining in, unlike when it was my turn.”

Seren tilted her head and motioned with her chin for Deryn to continue.

“No, you can rest easy on that score. Ceridwen is in your corner. Firmly. Unbothered about you. Unworried. She gave me a whole long speech a few months ago about the error of my ways. And the perfection of yours. Now that I am on the island full-time, I wonder if she knows about the jazz with Jenny. Or was it more the horizontal mambo that you’re dancing there?”

Seren furrowed her eyebrows.

“What Ceridwen knows is irrelevant.”

“Aha! J’accuse! I figured she doesn’t know the way she talks about you, all noble and waiting for your one and only.”

“I am!” Seren shut her mouth with a loud snap and then spoke calmly. “I mean, aren’t we all on some level waiting for the one?”

“Oh, you old romantic!” Deryn smacked her on the back. “I have already met my one so I get it. Still, I commend you and also am a bit meh on your choice of bedfellows⁠—”

“Jenny and I were never fellows of beds or any other kind of surfaces⁠—”

A knock on the door interrupted Deryn’s diatribe and Seren’s answer as she raised her eyes to heaven. There was a Goddess indeed, and she was on her side.

The knock sounded again, which told Seren that it was either a lost tourist, who normally did not wander this far off the beaten paths on Dragons, or… The door opened slowly, the hinges giving barely a sound, and Lark stood there, the snow behind her shining brightly, giving her a sort of halo.

Seren held her breath. Deryn let out a very quiet whistle.

“Well, well, well. What were you saying about there being no jazz, Rennie? This is an entirely different melody. Though, with the Louisiana connection, that jazz seems appropriate⁠—”

“Shut up!” Pushing Deryn out of the way, Seren took a few steps toward Lark, who was still standing in the hallway, holding a little bag to her chest.

“Ah, hi.” She spoke, and the snow on the ground behind her became somehow impossibly brighter. Seren squinted and moved past her to close the door. As they brushed against each other, Seren felt a chill descend on her.

Like someone walking over my grave… Or is it yours?

She could swear she heard a voice whisper it, a voice that did not belong to her. A voice she had not heard in ages. A voice that belonged to the face looking at them from pictures on the Crowhart family wall. The starched collar of the Navy uniform looked out of place among women in other photos, wearing all sorts of colorful garbs. A voice that belonged to the woman Deryn and she had just talked about.

Gwen Crowhart.

On the second floor, the door that had closed earlier reopened with an unnatural creak. Seren had oiled the hinges just this weekend. Neither metal nor wood made that noise. She shivered.

Lark’s eyes grew wider at the noise, at the touch.

From the kitchen, Seren could hear Deryn’s low whistle sound yet again. She was going to murder her twin sister. And no court in this country would convict her. Not when they knew how annoying this particular twin sister was.

Seren moved past Lark, motioning her toward the kitchen, trying to ignore the chill that started to dissipate.

“I have freshly brewed tea. I’m trying a new leaf, would you care for some?”

She was ready for a rejection. Judging by the parcel in her hands, Lark was here on some errand. And as their interactions went, every time Seren offered something, Lark would retreat. Still, that one kiss on the cheek gave Seren hope. Along with all the times Lark saved her small plates of dishes she made at the Tavern when Seren just happened to be dropping by. Which was damn near every other day.

And well, Lark was standing there, wearing her beanie. So maybe Seren’s luck would change. Lark looked adorable. Seren smiled hopefully. Deryn coughed, which Seren was pretty certain was an attempt to hide a laugh. Murder it would be, and as soon as Lark left.

“Yes, I’ll try the new leaf,” Lark said unexpectedly, and Seren wanted to punch the air victoriously.