I spend the rest of the day inside the house, mostly worrying and sleeping. When I get up the next morning, I'm shocked to find Marc Lentz and his son Sébastien sitting with Papa at the kitchen table. Not dressed suitably for company, I rush back to my room and throw on a plain brown dress and one of my mother's shawls. When I come back into the kitchen, both men stand up and take off their flat caps respectfully.

"What are they doing here?" I inquire, not particularly caring if I sound rude. While they aren't friends, Papa and Marc have a close working relationship.

Or had.

Whatever the current status, I always believed that there was healthy respect on both ends.

Marc bobs his head in my direction. "I came to apologize to your father, Sina. And to ask you a question." He glances at his son; Sébastien twists his cap between his hands and doesn't meet my eye.

Suspicious. "I'm not marrying your son, Master Lentz."

Sébastien's head snaps up and he turns a bright shade of red. Still seated at the table, Papa coughs. Looking at the poor boy, who's only a year younger than me, I feel a tiny bit of guilt for my words. Sébastien is a tall, lanky young man who knows how to manage a fishing vessel but not much else. By the look on Papa's face, that's exactly what Marc was going to ask.

The fishing captain straightens his collar and puts his cap back on. "You haven't even considered our proposal, Sina," he begins, but I cut him off.

"No means no, Master Lentz," I tell him firmly. "The last time I checked, women in this kingdom cannot be forced into marriage by their parents or guardians. Or have the laws changed since I read them last?"

Marc's eyes widen and Sébastien slowly sinks back into his chair, turning away so he doesn't have to look at me. "You read—of course, you have." He sighs, as if a well-read woman is trouble. "Be that as it may, would you please hear me out?"

I glance at my father. Papa lifts his eyes to meet mine but only takes a sip of his tea. I fold my arms firmly across my chest. "Fine." I'm still going to say no.

"Would you like to sit?" Marc asks, gesturing to the kitchen table.

"I'll stand."

"Very well. By marrying Sébastien, you would have access to the Lentz family fortune, which would be more than enough to move your father into a nice home in the village proper. He wouldn't have to work anymore. Don't you want your father to pass into his later years comfortably, Sina?"

I blink. Of course, I do, but something tells me that entering into this pact with the Lentzes is akin to striking a bargain with an evil spirit.

"You just want a live-in witch."

Marc's face goes pale, then red in embarrassment. He makes a strangling sound in his throat, caught.

I press further. "You want me to use my powers to increase the family wealth without being paid a cent, am I correct, Master Lentz?"

Silence.

Unfolding my arms, I take a step forward. A small part of me is thrilled when the fishing captain moves a half-step backward. "I am not marrying Sébastien, nor will I serve this village for free. My mother died being at the beck and call of her hometown. If the citizens of Farbarrow want something from me, they will pay me a wage as benefit any craftsman and I will have the freedom to refuse a job should I see fit."

"B-but, your gifts are from the gods!" Marc splutters, fingers tightening.

So? "It is a talent, like any other," I argue, lifting my head. "By your logic, if there is an unruly customer in Dunfield's, Mrs Dunfield should put up with it because her skills come from the gods. But she doesn't have to. She has the right to refuse him or her service. Any craftsman in this kingdom is free to refuse a customer, so why not me?"

The captain stares at me, dumbfounded. "You are ... very intelligent, Sina."

My eyes narrow. "The last person to speak to me in that tone was Miss Templeton," I say, voice hardening. "She chased me through the school with a broom because she couldn't fathom a child—a girl, at that—with a brain. She was dragged out of the school by a sea lion if memory serves me correctly."

"Da," Sébastien says quietly as his father's face turns a darker shade of red. He moves away from the table. "We should go. I told you that this was a bad idea."

Marc Lentz stares at me. Through clenched teeth, he says, "Very well, Sina. I will be happy to put you on the payroll."

He's still trying to trap me, I realize. But I won't let him do that. I shake my head. "No. I will serve the entire community, not just you. It will be on a case-by-case basis, I will have the right to refuse, and you will accept that gracefully."

Slowly, the red drains from the captain's face; his shoulders sag and he rubs a hand over his eyes. "We really could you someone like you in the family, Sina. But, very well. If you're not busy today, we can go to Squire Thimmesch's law office in Rollinsville and have a contract drawn up."

I glance over at my father who has been observing the whole conversation with a clenched jaw. "Did you actually apologize to Papa?"

"He did," Papa replies in a low tone. "It was sincere."

But he's still not happy about what happened. That much I can tell. But Papa isn't telling me to refuse the captain's offer, so he must think that it's a good idea. Or, at least it makes good business sense.

"Very well," I say at last. "But I will have to change my clothes."

A spot of red appears on the captain's cheeks. "Of course," he replies tightly.

Dipping into a little curtsy, I return to my room to grab my traveling habit.

------------

I can very well set out to Rollinsville in a simple blue dress, but I want to make the captain wait. As I gather my garments, I glance out my window, looking for Bippi. The octopus doesn't stick to a schedule as a human teacher will, coming and going as he pleases. If he doesn't show up, that is my cue to study independently and practice.

Today is one of the days I wish he would appear. There are a lot of questions I have for him regarding not only my status as a full sea witch but what my obligations are to the community.

While loitering will make me feel better, I know I can only push Marc Lentz so far. So I quickly change and tuck my long tresses into a simple bun.

The Lentzes' fancy carriage and two sleek, black horses are waiting for us at the top of the hill. Foot traffic comes to a halt as villagers spy me and my father walking towards the carriage with Marc and Sébastien. I'm quick to notice the raised eyebrows and I shout out as one woman leans over to another, "I'm not marrying him!"

The women's hands fly up to their mouths and they quickly turn and walk away.

Sébastien groans and instantly, I feel contrite. I don't mean to embarrass the poor boy like that. But I'm quite certain the whole village knows what I am by now and Marc Lentz is not shy in voicing his opinions.

"Sorry," I say as we get into the well-appointed carriage. Papa sits next to me on one side, Marc and Sébastien on the other. As soon as he's seated, Sébastien pulls his cap tightly over his eyes and slumps to one side.

He really is a nice boy, I think. But we would never suit. I would eat him alive.

The carriage takes off in silence. Marc attempts to engage me and Papa in conversation a few minutes into the journey while Sébastien does his best to become part of the upholstery. For the most part, I keep my replies short, and Papa grunts.

We arrive at Rollinsville in nearly half the time it takes Farmer Johanssen. The carriage skirts the busy marketplace, avoiding the usual long lines of traders, and takes a broad road into the middle of the city.

Squire Thimmesch's office sits above a fancy café where women in expensive dresses and outlandish hats sit around tiny tables, drink tea from small cups, and eat little sandwiches. If this is what money can buy, I reflect as we enter a side door, then it's no wonder they look sick with their pale complexions and thin frames.

The squire is a small, wiry man with thick, horn-rimmed glasses and a bushy grey mustache. He doesn't blink an eye when our group is escorted into his office. Papa and I sit on one side while Marc and Sébastien take the other.

Folding his hands atop a cluttered desk, the squire looks from the Lentzes to Papa and me. "I understand that you wish to have a contract drawn up between you and this young lady?" he inquires.

"A work contract," I interject, which makes the squire raise a thick eyebrow. "And I'm not going to be working exclusively for him. I just want something in writing that guarantees me fair pay and hours when I do choose to help him."

Squire Thimmesch's eyebrows lift higher on his forehead, nearly touching his receding hairline. "What sort of work do you do, my lady?"

"I am a sea witch."

The squire's hands drop off the desk and into his lap; he leans back in his chair and shifts his gaze from one family to the other. "You wish to employ a sea witch?" he asks Marc Lentz.

"She can command life from the ocean," the captain tells the squire. "Years ago, the lobsters ran dry. Now, we are struggling to have enough traps made for next season. It's because of her," he says, nodding at me.

Squire Thimmesch frowns in concentration and looks at me, shrewd eyes assessing. I bristle under scrutiny and sit up, ready to combat the greed if necessary. "Sea witch," he mutters to himself. "I've not seen one of those in a long time ..." He trails off and nods. "So, today we are deciding on fair wage, how often and long you will work, and a guarantee that you will be able to freelance. Is this correct?" he asks, turning to Marc Lentz in particular.

"Yes," I immediately state. Papa nods, a quiet observer in the room.

"Yes," the fishing captain agrees reluctantly.

"Good. Now, my lady, would you consent to a small show of your abilities, so that I might bear witness?"

My heart gives a little thump of surprise. I'm not prepared to give a demonstration—especially not near any salt water.

Sitting up in my chair, I look around the room for something that would work with my abilities. A small glass of water sits on the edge of the squire's desk; it's fresh, but that shouldn't pose a problem.

Holding my hand out palm up, I make a lifting gesture. Rise.

Marc Lentz and the squire lean forward in their chairs as the little bit of water bends and contorts in on itself, rising out of the glass like a liquid eel.

"Impressive," Squire Thimmesch murmurs. Sébastien grows pale and edges his chair away while his father's face holds a mixture of intrigue and fear.

But I'm not finished. I've heard the throaty cry of a seagull borne inland by a steady supply of food. Turning to the squire's open window, I crook a finger.

Come.

The seagull's thoughts indicate her interest and she immediately changes course, flying straight toward the window. The bird turns sharply, long and narrow wings tucked close to her body as she flies into the office and immediately straightens out again to land on the back of the squire's chair.

"Oh!" Squire Thimmesch exclaims, jumping several inches. The seagull squawks and reaches out to grab a tuft of the older man's hair in her long yellow beak. "Oh!" the man shouts, louder this time. He bolts from the chair and makes for a corner of the room. The seagull watches him with beady black eyes, a few strands of hair clutched in her beak.

"C-can you send it back?" Squire Thimmesch stammers, desperately smoothing his waistcoat.

I look right at the seagull and nod. "Thank you. You may go."

Releasing another sharp squawk, the seagull drops the squire's hair, unfurls her wings, and flies out of the office, scattering pages and pens as she leaves.

"Well," the squire huffs, shuffling back to his chair. "That was indeed a feat, Miss Fisher. Can you do that with any creature?"

I exchange a look with my father. "Lesser animals are easier to manipulate individually, but it takes effort to manage a whole school or pod."

Squire Thimmesch scribbles something on a pad. "Understood." He pulls out a drawer and takes out a form, laying it on the table. "Well, I believe I have enough information here to draw up a contract that will work for the both of you. Come back tomorrow, same time, and we will go over everything."

The four of us get up and exit the squire's office. As we're getting into the carriage, Marc Lentz says, "Is everything acceptable to you, Sina?"

I look up, a small frown creasing my mouth. "We'll see when I read the contract, Captain." He's still trying to manipulate me, even now. I'll have to be careful—very careful.

By the look on the captain's face, he realizes that I'm not one to back down. Time will only tell where this all goes.