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

had to admit that was possible. “Would that make us kin?” I teased.
    Midir studied me seriously. “Perhaps.”
    Asher fell into a milk-drunk stupor. I handed him back to Timothy. My bread was just ready for baking. I watched as Cian used a large, wooden paddle to slide each round loaf into the bread oven. I had used similar ovens at the castle. The bread always came out crunchy on the outside, with the center soft and light.
    My Magic would make sure they cooked evenly and wouldn’t burn. In that, I had an advantage over most bakers.
    The older woman nodded with something akin to approval in her eyes. “You did not jest,” she said. She gave me another appraising look. “I am Cliodhna.” Her expression left no doubts that she was offering a great boon in telling me her name.
    “I’m Cindy,” I said.
    The bread cooked quickly in the hot stone oven. As soon as they were out, the rest of the selkie folk gathered to eat.
    “The water is calm,” Cliodhna said, her voice indicating that this was some kind of benediction. “The tides are even. We have enough to eat. Bring those lost home.”
    The rest of the selkies nodded and murmured. Then, it was time to eat. We sat and ate bread and the stew, with the roasted turnips scattered on the surface like brown and golden treasure. One of the selkie women had made a nest for Asher, so I had both hands free to enjoy our repast. The fish stew was perfect—a combination of all the best flavors of the ocean.
    I dunked a piece of my bread in the stew and ate it slowly, enjoying the combination of flavors.
    “Now that is bread that is bread,” Midir said with approval. He had smeared his bread with butter that Cliodhna had said was from the capricorn herd. It was a rich-tasting butter, slightly salty, but also sweet. He took a large bite and smiled as he chewed. “Ah, I miss bread when we are at sea.”
    As if his words were a cue, the other selkie folk fell silent, their faces turning serious.
    “Whatever happened,” I said, softly, “I am sure it is why Faerie called us here. I don’t think that would have happened if there was nothing we could do.”
    “I hope you are right,” Midir said. “But, I fear that nothing can help us.”
    Behind him, the youngest of the women burst into tears.
    I waited, knowing that they would tell me, when they were ready.
    “Many years back,” Midir said. “When the mortal land and this one were reunited, we had a season of troubles. We could not catch enough fish to feed the mouths of our growing numbers. The Magic we rely on was disrupted. A lady came…”
    “Sea hag, more like,” one of the others muttered.
    “She offered us a bargain. Ah, what were we to do? We had no choice, but to starve. And the task she said she wanted in return did not seem to be much of a hardship.” Midir shook his head. “How were we to know that it would come to this?” He looked into my eyes. “The time came and we couldn’t give her what we vowed to give. Until we do, not one of us is safe. She has taken away our children, our wives, and our husbands. She has taken most of our clan, and we cannot find them. And we cannot fight her, for she is in the right—we made a vow that we could not keep.”
    Goosebumps rose on my arms at the familiar ring to this story. The ice giantesses had also been given an impossible task.
    “Were you to capture moonlight?” I asked.
    Midir gave me an odd look. “No. She wanted us to carry a rainbow. We tried everything. There was nothing we could do.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “So, can you help us?”
    “I don’t know,” I said, honestly. “But, I will tell you this—you are not the first clan we have met who has a similar story.” I told him briefly about the giantesses and their tale.

Chapter Eleven

     
    “B ad stuff,” Midir said when I was finished with my story. “Oh, but she’s a clever one, isn’t she?” His voice was full of a begrudging sort of respect. He flashed his teeth