As it turns out, thanks to me, the sailors manage to fill the hold in a few hours. Despite growing up on the beach and living in a fishing village, I discover that I don't like the smell and constant motion of the trawler. I throw up twice before Captain Minck gives me some kind of hard bread to combat my seasickness and I end up nursing it the whole time.

There has to be a spell or potion for this, I think as one of the fishermen hands me down the gangplank and back onto the dock. My stomach rumbles as I totter away, my body struggling to adjust to life back on solid land.

"There! There she is, my lord!"

My head jerks up and I take a misstep, bouncing off of an empty cart parked near one of the warehouses. "Oh!" I curse, shaking my head at such foolishness. The sailors make getting on and off ships so easy. I'll learn, eventually.

"There's the witch, my lord."

The witch, I sigh, lifting my eyes skyward. They've already forgotten my name. I'm just "the witch" now.

A young village boy stands at the end of the dock and points directly at me. Standing beside him on a golden mare with a creamy mane and tail is Klaus Zeimet, Viscount Torvold.

I immediately freeze.

Why would the duke's son seek me out if not to scold me for some imagined slight back at the bookshop?

The viscount says something to the boy and hands him a coin. Dismounting, he passes the mare's reins to the child and strolls up the dock toward me. Lovely.

It seems that everyone else on the dock has stopped what they are doing and is now watching the viscount. I take a step back as the viscount's eyes widen with recognition.

"You? You're the witch?" he asks, perplexed.

Well, that's not the sort of greeting I was expecting. More of a "how dare you".

Smoothing my ocean-ruffled clothes, I lift my chin and attempt to tuck in the snarled strands of my black hair into some semblance of order. "I am."

"Oh." Viscount Torvold stops a few feet away from me. "I didn't realize ..."

My eyes narrow in confusion. "Realize what, my lord?"

The young man coughs and two spots of color bloom on his cheeks. "I thought the witch everyone was talking about was ..."

"Old?" I supply for him. "Ugly?" I've found a few examples of such witches in my for-pleasure reading books. What a ridiculous stereotype, no doubt meant to demean powerful women.

He sighs and holds up his hands helplessly. "Yes?"

Fairly secure in the knowledge that I'm not being reprimanded, I straighten and tuck my hands into the pockets of my trousers. "I'm the sea witch of Farbarrow."

"Oh." Viscount Torvold looks down at the ground and scrapes at one of the boards with the toe of his boot. He looks strangely out of sorts, which I find oddly endearing. From my limited experience, all nobles and those of the upper class are born confident—often too confident—which does not fit the duke's son at all.

Since he can't seem to get the words out, I ask, "You came to find me for what reason, my lord?"

My question seems to galvanize the viscount. "Well, word reached my father about there being a sea witch in Farbarrow and he asked me to investigate."

"Am I being considered a threat, my lord?" An icy chill shoots down my spine and settles in my belly. Not a day on the job and already in trouble of being shut down.

Viscount Torvold's eyes widen. "What? No, not at all!"

If that's meant to soothe me, it doesn't work. "Then what, my lord?" I manage to ask.

His eyes widen, taking in my expression. "By the Grey God, I don't mean to upset you, my lady!"

I offer him a wry smile. "It's not often a young lady is sought out by the reigning duke for being a witch, my lord."

The viscount looks around, noticing the loitering villagers for the first time. "Is there somewhere we might talk in private, my lady?"

There's nowhere we can go that won't be noticed now. Still. "Follow me, my lord," I say and begin to walk. The viscount scrambles to keep up with me, retrieving his mare from the village boy and leading her as he trails after me.

We walk past the hill that leads down to my hut. There's smoke coming from Papa's shop and a dozen lobster traps are sitting outside the door. I sneak a quick glance, but there's no window at the back of the shop that my father can look out, nor is he outside.

I bring the viscount to the edge of the beach where the forest begins. A couple of chickens peck at the ground in the small yard behind one of the homes that abuts the trees, but other than that, we are alone.

I drop to the ground in a patch of tough grass and look up at the viscount. He peers around and finds a branch to tie the mare to, giving her enough leeway to graze on the short grass at the tree line. With the horse secure, he awkwardly sits across from me.

"Not used to sitting on the grass, my lord?" I ask, lifting my eyebrows.

"This?" He runs a hand over the stalks. "Oh, no, I did it all the time as a child. It's just that this is different from Zurmickhausen—the estate I spent summers at in Liefmore."

I nod understandingly, although I have no idea what Zurmickhausen looks like. "Well, Liefmore is more inland than Rollinsville. Dune grass doesn't grow in either location."

"You're familiar with Liefmore? Have you been there?" He looks at me expectantly.

Folding my arms atop my knees, I smile. "No, but I've read about it."

Viscount Torvold leans over and pulls at a stalk of dune grass, rolling it between his forefinger and thumb. "You read a lot, don't you?"

"Is that so strange?"

His chin comes up and he drops the blade of grass. "No. It's just that all the young ladies your age that I know—well, all they read are silly romances. I'd bet not one of them has ever picked up a book on geography."

I smirk. "I read romances, too, my lord. But they don't make up the entirety of my library."

Interest sharpens his gaze. "And what else do you read, my lady?"

I shrug. "Almost everything: essays, travel logs, geography, history, philosophy. I draw the line at mathematical tracts, however. I fear I've not a head for greater sums."

"And magic?" he asks, prompting. "Is that where you got your powers?"

"From books? Oh, no." I shake my head. "I was born this way. My mother was a hedgewitch."

He nods and scratches his chin. "So ... what is it you can do?"

I lean forward and smile. "Is your father the duke seeking to hire me?" Now that would be an interesting contract.

The viscount blinks in surprise and sits up. "No—at least, I don't think so. He just wants to know what you can do."

So the duke is assessing if I am a threat, I muse, a tendril of cold curling in my belly. "Well, I can find fish, call the wind, and encourage breeding and growth in sea creatures."

"Can you summon storms?"

"No." Not yet.

Viscount Torvold rocks back and forth for a moment. "I read that the sea witches of old could summon mighty storms to wreck the ships of enemies."

My gaze narrows. "I am not a weapon, my lord. I am here to serve and help my community, nothing more."

The young man's eyes meet mine and he curses under his breath. "You are very observant, my lady."

"I've heard that before," I remark wryly, getting up. "Please tell His Grace the Duke that I am no threat, just a simple woman who wishes for a quiet life and to go about that life unmolested."

The viscount stands as well, brushing off his trousers. "I will tell him that, my lady." Touching his fingertips to his forehead, he walks over and unties the golden mare. "Have a good day."

I watch as he climbs into the saddle and knees the mare around. Bowing his head to me, the viscount clucks his tongue and the mare takes off at a smart trot. I stand there, watching until he disappears up the hill and passes a hand over my forehead.

Papa won't be happy.