No, Papa isn't happy. But he is also resigned to the fact that if we leave now, the duke will take our departure as a sign of ill intentions and chase after us. Not wanting to be hunted as a fugitive, Papa begrudgingly states that we will remain in the village. I spend a good portion of the night reinforcing the wards around the house as a result.

When morning arrives, I stare blearily out the window and yawn. Papa is already sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and reading a week-old copy of the newspaper from Rollinsville. Neither of us speaks as I busy myself by making us both breakfast and we eat in silence. As Papa rises to go to his shop, he stops at the door and looks back at me.

"Be careful at the market today," he warns tiredly before heading outside.

I watch him go and wonder if he was always this tired, or did the revelation of my powers age him?

The thought is distressing so I attempt to get those ideas out of my mind by getting ready. After washing up and throwing on a simple green dress, I collect my market basket and coin pouch. I also tuck some small protection pochettes into the pockets of my skirt, just to be on the safe side.

The walk up to the village square starts out uneventful, but somewhat uncomfortable as several people stop and stare as I pass by. No one attempts to speak to me, so I'm uncertain if this is a curse or a blessing.

But the silence doesn't last very long. Widow Gault is descending the stairs from her small apartment above the bootmaker's shop and spies me walking by.

"Oh, Melusine!" she calls out in a small, tremulous voice, adjusting the old-fashioned widow's wimple over her head.

I pause and let the elderly woman catch up to me, the hem of her black widow's dress trailing on the ground. "What can I do for you, Mistress Gault?" I ask, catching hold of the woman's elbow to steady her.

"Oh, Melusine," the widow begins again, patting me on the arm, "could I bother you for a protection charm for my grandson Jon?" She reaches beneath the cloth covering her market basket and pulls out a single silver piece. "I worry about him so."

I eye the silver piece. "He dives for mussels on the other side of the plant, right?"

"Yes." Widow Gault presses the silver crown against my chest. "I can't lose him like I lost my son and husband."

That's right, I realize, remembering. Both Widow Gault's son and husband drowned several years ago in a diving accident. Sadly, a life being lost to the sea is a regular occurrence in fishing villages such as Farbarrow. Still, I'm not completely heartless. I push the coin back to the widow. "Five coppers, no more, Mistress Gault."

The widow looks up at me with shining eyes. "But—"

"No buts," I tell her gently. "Five coppers, Mistress Gault."

"You're a good girl, Melusine," Widow Gault says, drying the corners of her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. She returns the coin to her basket and pulls out five copper pieces. "We are blessed to have a sea witch in the village again." As she speaks, her voice rises slightly, and she looks at something over my right shoulder.

I pivot slowly to see that once again I've drawn a crowd. Damn, that was rather quick.

A woman of middling age with a determined look on her face breaks away from her husband and marches over to me, nearly knocking the widow aside in her attempt to get close.

"A protection charm for my son, too?" the woman asks, digging into a colorful drawstring bag hanging from her left forearm.

"Me too?"

"Me too?"

Suddenly, a gaggle of village women is gathered around me, tossing five coppers each into my market basket. It's a veritable shower of metal pieces. I slowly turn in a circle, trying to memorize names and faces. Just as I'm about to be overwhelmed, a kind soul slips a notepad and fountain pen into the basket, which I gratefully use to obtain names and addresses.

When I'm done, I have ten orders for charms and fifty-five copper crowns—a small fortune. One that will promptly be put to use at the market.

I thank the women for their purchases and continue to the market. Well, I think with a smile, that turned out better than I expected. Indeed, this was how I had always envisioned everything to unfold once I had been fully initiated—not to be counted as a tool or seen as a harbinger of destruction.

If I do my shopping quickly, I can have the charms completed by sunset and deliver them the next morning.

I'm so lost in my own thoughts that I barely manage to miss the hindquarters of a golden horse. Mumbling an apology, I skirt around the bad end of the creature and continue on my way.

"Lady Fisher?"

I stop dead in my tracks. Damn. So much for a pleasant day.

Slowly, I turn around to see the viscount dismounting and walking over to me. "Has His Grace sent you to conscript me into the navy?" I ask, a bit more flippantly than I should have. Papa is right; I need to watch my tongue.

Viscount Torvold pauses, face going blank for a brief second. "What? No. I told him exactly what you told me—that you are committed to a life of service to your village."

"And?"

The viscount cocks his head. "There is no 'and', my lady. I don't know what you have heard about my father, but he is not one to press young women into military service."

I instantly feel contrite. "I admit, my lord, I know very little about your father. All I know is what we pay in taxes—which are quite fair." And they really are, considering what I have heard about other ruling nobles in the kingdom.

His blue eyes light up in amusement. "Well, this is interesting. There is something you do not know?"

I lightly laugh and shrug. "Yes. Terrible, isn't it?" And if I don't know, I will very likely find out.

The viscount takes a small step towards me. "I'd be happy to fill you in if you would let me."

Oh. I find myself blushing. Something changed just then, didn't it? "You ... could," I reply slowly. Well, this is an interesting predicament that I've found myself in. The duke's son who I ignored in the bookshop can't be ignored any longer. How did that happen?

And why me?

Before I can ruminate over these strange occurrences, the viscount offers me his arm. "May I escort you to the market?"

The little flush blooms across my cheeks and chest. "You may, my lord," I say, resting my left hand in the crook of his arm.

"Klaus," he corrects with a grin.

"Melusine, but everyone calls me Sina."

Viscount Torvold—no, Klaus—grins. "Sina," he repeats. "It's lovely."

It is, isn't it? Ducking my head, I discover a new emotion building in my chest, one I've never felt before. But although it's new, I like it—just as I find that I'm starting to like the duke's son.

Perhaps it will be a good day after all.