Page 18 of Shifting Winds
“Heart rate,” he whispered.
“Shit,” I muttered.
He placed a warm hand over mine. “Steady.”
A woman glided over to us. Tall, regal, cold as ice. She wore a pale blue gown encrusted with diamonds across the bodice, sleeveless and mermaid cut. I’d fall flat on my face the moment I took a step in a dress like that. Her face was lineless and smooth, pale blue eyes resting for a brief second on my father before she bowed to him. When she straightened, her eyes landed on me.
The woman had the eyes of a predator, sharp and calculating. A shrewd intelligence glittered in her gaze. “You must be Evangeline.” A slight dip of her head. “Charmed.”
“This is Brigid,” Cernunnos said.
My mother had mentioned her a couple of times in passing. For whatever reason, Cliona couldn’t stand her. Unsurprising. Mom hated just about everyone. Sometimes she reminded me of the evil stepmother in the fairytale, asking the mirror who’s the hottest.
Brigid was pretty enough to get under her skin.
“Hello,” I said lamely. Brigid didn’t look much like the goddess of the hearth and home. She reminded me of old money, one of those rich white women who has the help put out specific china for important guests. When I thought of home, I thought of someone like Hazel. Warm, kind, maybe a little frazzled. Someone to offer you tea or coffee when you came over and maybe had warm cookies straight from the oven.
This woman was pure ice, a predator in a ballgown. She’d brag about the type of champagne she had and offer you caviar from some weird fish you’ve never heard of. If she was one of my father’s friends, I’d hate to meet his enemies.
“Where has the king been hiding you for all these years?” She clicked her tongue. “Such pretty dark hair. You must take after your mother.”
Cernunnos’s muscle tightened under my hand, a minuscule motion I would have missed if I didn’t know him. This woman didn’t realize Cliona was my mother. Interesting.
Brigid was fishing. “I wouldn’t know,” I said sweetly. “I’m an orphan.”
The goddess blinked, her eyes widening as she realized her apparent faux pas. “My apologies,” she murmured. “I had no idea.”
“Her mother is of no importance this night.” He inclined his head the tiniest bit. “It was nice to see you again, Brigid.”
“I’ll save you a seat, sire.”
“Mmm,” Cernunnos said, edging his way past the goddess.
“Clever,” he murmured.
“She doesn’t know.”
“Your mother is a viper. Our liaison was brief yet fruitful.”
My nose wrinkled. “Eww.”
Cernunnos chuckled. “Come. Let us make the rounds.”
“Do we have to sit by Brigid?” I whispered.
He steered me toward the back window, where a long table was set up. “She is deeper than her surface beauty. Do not let her appearance lull you into false security.”
“No worries there. You know who my mother is.”
“Ah. Yes. I should have known you would not be fooled by someone’s appearance.”
No. I was more likely to distrust someone because they were pretty, thanks to dear ol’ mom. Someone else approached, a tall, handsome man with dark skin and eyes the color of citrine.
He stopped before us and inclined his head. “Cernunnos. Who is this lovely creature you’ve brought this evening?”
My father relaxed. Whoever this man was, my father liked him.
“Conor,” he said warmly. “This is my daughter, Evangeline.”
