Page 53 of Hijack the Seas: Seismic

“And how do I know that he isn’t under a spell?” she demanded, her eyes flashing.

And I suddenly understood why Alphonse was flirting, even in the middle of a fight: she really was a beauty. Her sister was cute in the same way that I was. Nobody was likely to kick us out of bed, but we wouldn’t be gracing the cover of Vogue anytime soon, either.

But in another world, this one might have. Intelligent hazel eyes were set in a face that a Renaissance master would have loved: a pale oval with high cheekbones, full lips, a perfectly straight nose, and teeth that looked like someone had photoshopped them. I couldn’t see the hair very well, as everything but a few tendrils had been stuffed under a mob cap to keep it out of the food, but I didn’t need to.

She would have been stunning bald.

Considering how superficial this bunch of fey were, I had to wonder why her sister had been serving and she had been relegated to the sweaty kitchen. And, of course, my stupid mouth had to ask. “Jealousy?” I guessed before I could stop myself.

It was just one word, but she understood immediately. And in a second, so did I, when the glamourie she’d been using fell. Guessed I knew why she hadn’t looked flushed in the kitchen, I thought, gazing at what happened to anyone prettier than the highborn fey they served.

I sucked in a breath, I couldn’t help it, and she smiled bitterly. “Does this please you, goddess?”

“No,” I whispered.

“Lady Adira caught her husband looking at me a little too long. I was twelve. The scars were bad then, but they stretched out as I grew, becoming even worse. She said they would, that they’d get prettier right along with me. But that nobody would ever see them, nobody who mattered, as I’d be in the kitchens from then on.”

I didn’t say anything, still trying to take in the ruin of that perfect face. Her glamourie had been flawless—I hadn’t seen a crack, even this close—but I guessed she’d needed to get good at it. The right half of her face was a mass of scars, ones that looked like they’d been made by someone’s nails slashing first in one direction and then in another, over and over until deep ridges had formed in the flesh.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, but my apology didn’t seem to have the same effect on her as on Rhosier.

“Answer me!” she yelled at him. “How do I know the prince isn’t under a spell? For that matter, how do I know that you aren’t? I told you this wouldn’t work! I’m taking my sister and going.” She shifted her glare back to Alphonse. “Now, get out of our way!”

To my surprise, he did as she asked after releasing the waitress. And with the added flourish of a gesture that he must have picked up from one of the old movies he loved. It looked like the motion a courtier would have used with a queen, including a little bow.

She regarded him suspiciously, but his gaze never wavered, and his eyes showed something like respect. Alphonse had been born with a face like the one she’d been given. He knew what it cost a person.

“You won’t make it out of the castle alive,” Rhosier told her, grabbing her arm as she passed. “These aren’t the only ones looking for you. I had no less than three sets of visitors tonight—”

“What visitors?” Pritkin asked sharply.

“Lord S?þórr—”

“S?þórr?” Alphonse interrupted, pronouncing it Sigh Thor. “That prick?”

“—Lady Véfreyja, and Prince Æsubrand—”

“Æsubrand,” I said. Because I’d thought he would have had better things to do. Like bind up that broken nose he’d gotten when he hit the floor. “What does he want?”

“Generys, like everyone else,” Rhosier said. “He declined to say why.”

“Who’s Generys?”

The waitress slowly raised her hand. And then, to my surprise, she looked me straight in the eyes. “I didn’t try to kill you, Lady—beg pardon, I do not know what to call you.”

“Cassie.”

“You can’t call her that!” Rhosier broke in while her lips were miming the unfamiliar name.

“Of course, she can,” the kitchen maid spoke up. “Goddesses don’t have titles. They are above that sort of thing,” her lips twisted. “Would you call Freya “lady”?

“Well, yes. That is what her name means,” Generys said, looking confused.

Her sister rolled her eyes. “Then pick another! The point is, they don’t need titles! Everyone already knows who they are.”

The bright hazel eyes turned on me, and they weren’t friendly.

“What’s your name?” I asked suddenly, realizing that I hadn’t heard it yet.

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