“But you have no control over what Lord Declan wants,” she said.
“Not directly, but we had his ear for a couple of months,” Armond said. “Anyway, I told them that I had dropped a hint about the flavor of devil crab to Lady Stacia and that she had immediately tried it.”
“Is that true?” she asked, not remembering any such conversation.
“It happened early on, while you were sanding chair and table legs for me, but, Nira, you saw how she eats, right?” he asked.
“Yes, like two men.”
“I’d say three. Anyway, she loved the crab and immediately ordered more. The seafood merchants paid attention, as did the nobility of Idiria. By herself, she will change the demand for devil crab; it’s just going to take some time to reach us here on Lileire. I explained that and they calmed down.”
“They should be damned grateful you thought of them at all!”
“Nira,” he admonished, although he couldn’t stop a little smile at her harsh language. “Oh, by the way, the crab men reported that they’ve been seeing big siorcfish recently. Chasing blubberpups. Apparently, the water is warm enough now that the big graybacks can come this far north, so be careful.”
Her outrage disappeared as she thought of how he would react if she told him about her swim. Of course, she’d also have to explain how a dragon saved her, and then how she happened to know a friendly dragon. She decided to concentrate on her food.
“Oh, and last but least… the women’s council request you attend them,” he said with a grimace.
“What? Why? When?”
“Tomorrow, at lunchtime. The back room at the inn. And as to why? Can’t you figure it out?”
“Papa, I haven’t done anything wrong! I just got back!”
He laughed at her expression. “Nira, dear, did it occur to you that we just told the whole village that you were a regular companion of Lady Stacia’s and can speak directly to the Realm Holder and call him by his first name?”
“But why would that get me in trouble?” she asked, still highly alarmed. The women’s council could make life hell for anyone in the community. Even the headman wasn’t immune to their ire.
“It isn’t trouble, daughter mine. They want to get access to your influence,” he said with a sly grin.
“Influence?”
“Nira, if you sent word to Idiria that you needed to see and speak to Lord Declan and Lady Stacia, what do you think would happen?”
“They might write me back?”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure the Realm Holder would be here in an instant, probably at his lady wife’s request. They are truly fond of you, Nira.”
She started to shake her head, but then an image of Stacia demanding just such a thing popped into her head. If anyone they considered a friend needed them, they would move the sky, earth, and sea to do it. And Lord Declan could do just that.
“But what do they want?” she asked, hating the plaintive whine in her voice.
“To control you, no doubt,” her father said, understanding who they were. “They will start with intimidation and bluster, or perhaps bribery. Some may want you to marry their sons. You’ll need to be firm or you’ll be betrothed before lunch is over,” he warned, pointing with his spoon for emphasis.
“Papa!” she said, dropping her own spoon and putting both hands over her mouth.
He chuckled a little, clearly pleased with his own prank. “You are fifteen, daughter. You may not freely enter a marriage contract without my permission for almost a full year. And I’m not giving it.”
She relaxed a bit, torn between relief and annoyance. “But you need to be on your guard. They will all want to exploit your relationship to their advantages. I warned Lottie and her crony Bett not to trifle with you.”
“Or what?” Nira asked. The senior ladies of the island did not take well to threats.
“Or that I would be sure to tell Lady Stacia that her favorite young lady friend was being bullied,” he said, smiling to himself. “Ah, nice to see them afraid for once.”
Personally, Nira thought her papa had mostly avoided the wrath of the women’s council because he was a widower, extremely respected in his trade, even-tempered and polite, and quite eligible for matchmaking. He was probably overstating things.
By a quarter past noon the next day, Nira thought her father hadn’t overstated a thing and in fact, may have underreported the problem. She was pinned between Bett and Lottie, at a long table in the private meeting room of the inn. Millie Rumple sat next to Lottie and Sillet Willyknees next to her. On Nira’s left side, Bett had Rhine Cobblink and Oddette Paux next to her.
Across the table, from the far left, was old Asilla Mixby, Weese Slogan, who was Keply’s ma, Maggie Strawridge, who was Nattle’s ma, Fod Waxwillow, whose son Milken was considered the best-looking boy on the island, Hauten Kneef, who also had a well thought of son, Mia Umbrell, and Kite Phoseby. And all of them had been staring holes in her the moment they got her trapped… er… seated.
“… tell him he needs to try the best caught cobbleback he ever had,” Mia said, clanging her fork into her porcelain plate to make her point.
“Don’t try to eat the plate too, dear,” Lottie said to Mia. “It’s not as tender as you might like.”
Mia, who was a larger woman, frowned and looked down at her mostly empty plate.
Nira almost smiled, but with a monumental effort of will, managed to keep her face blank as she took her maybe third or fourth bite of the devil crab cake Lottie’s staff had served first.
“Nira dear, you haven’t said more than three words,” Bett commented.
“Papa says it’s important to be a good listener,” she said.
“Well that’s true, dear,” Bett said, leaning forward to share a look with her buddy as she spoke.
“It’s just that you’ve said not a word about the matters at hand,” Lottie took over.
“I’m sorry,
