Free How (Not) to Soothe a Siren (Cindy Eller Book 9) by Elizabeth A Reeves

they would stir themselves for nothing.”
    Midir narrowed his eyes, but nodded sharply. “Very well. You may find us lacking as hosts, but you shall know all shortly. Then you can gauge whether we are… unjust in our dismissal.”
    From the corner of my eye, I could see Timothy’s hands clench into fists. He had his temper under wraps, for now, but I wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to keep himself under wraps, with the way Midir was speaking to me. Timothy and I had been through too much together for him to take slights against me lightly.
    I reached out and took his hand, even as I wondered why Midir’s attitude wasn’t bothering me. Once, it would have shaken mw to the core. Perhaps I was centered enough these days not to let a little storm set me adrift.
    We followed Midir’s lead into the largest of the cottages. The inside was an interesting blend of modern and ancient. The stone walls were hung with tapestries, all depicting oceanic scenes, from herds of capricorn—the dolphin-tailed sea goats-- cavorting through the waves, to giant sea monsters with dozens of tentacles.
    A giant pot bubbled away in the massive fireplace. I lifted my nose and sniffed appreciatively at the rich scent of what I guessed had to be a fish stew. Beside the fireplace, a great bread oven was recessed into the stone walls. It, too, emitted a welcoming heat into the rest of the room.
    The furnishings were simple and comfortable, mostly comprised of low-to-the-ground seats and cushions. The stone floor was covered with a luxurious array of handwoven rugs.
    The effect was welcoming and inviting, in all the ways our host had not been.
     

Chapter Ten

     
    I ’d fed Asher on the road, so now I passed him off to Timothy and made a beeline to the kitchen area, where two of the selkie folk were gathering the rest of our meal.
    “Can I help?” I asked.
    The older woman raised an eyebrow as she looked me over. The young man who was helping her appeared to be her son, if the shape of their eyes and noses were any indication. Unlike the rest of the selkie folk, she had deep blue eyes. Her frosted dark hair was pulled back in a thick plait, but had done nothing to tame the frame of wild curls that circled her face.
    “Before I was Seraphim, I was a baker,” I said, smiling as I realized that those credentials, and not the ones that usually granted me status, were the ones that mattered here.
    The older woman nodded sharply. “Cian, show her what she needs.”
    The young man inclined his head and gestured for me to follow him into the small adjoining room that served as a sort of pantry. Food-stuffs lined the walls—great wheels of cheese, with bins and sacks of roots vegetables and finely-milled flour.
    “We trade for what we need,” Cian said proudly. “There are no fishermen of the like of we selkie.”
    Looking at his face, I had to reassess my first impression of his age. By the size of his hands, this half-grown pup was going to be a veritable giant when he was full grown. As it was, he dwarfed my five feet and two inches. He left me to explore on my own, and rejoined his mother in the main room of the cottage.
    It took me only a few moments to find what I needed. They had a stone jar of started dough, full of wild yeast and ready for whatever breads I sought to create.
    I didn’t need much for what I was planning to make—flour, salt, butter, a few eggs, treacle, and the starter. I wasn’t going to try my hand at anything fancy. Just simple loaves of bread to go with the stew.
    Sometimes the beauty was in the simplicity.
    The tension in the room was lost to me as I mixed and kneaded. Working with dough was familiar and welcoming to me, even in a strange place. It had been too long since I had had the opportunity to create. I’d missed the feeling of flour on my hands, and the warm yeasty scent that rose into the air and surrounded me as I worked.
    As I had suspected, the flour wasn’t ground from modern wheat, but from a