Simmer: Or, The Second Life of Callis Wardwell, Witch

PROLOGUE: THE POISON WOMAN

"Hear this, then," said Deianira. "I betroth my third daughter, Iphigenia, to the Onasis boy, Deo. Let it mark the start of a fruitful partnership between the Wardwell Clan of Netherwood and House Onasis of Bloodbrook, one that should have been pursued a long time ago."

Muttering from the witches and the man-wolves, but no one protested. She was right; it was just that arranged marriages as a vehicle to agreements were such an Ever thing. But Deianira liked to dabble with customs.

"Walk out," said Deianira to them– as usual, looking through Iphigenia, rather than actually at her. "We have details to negotiate."

Conri cracked his knuckles and smiled with huge canines. He projected affability and played up his physical strength, deliberately made it seem he was unintelligent, but they all knew better. Deianira wouldn't have deigned to make a deal with him at all, if she didn't think him just as clever as she.

"We do." he said, and went to sit with the Grand Duchess, his son all but forgotten.

"Father said I'd get one of the pretty ones." Deo said resentfully, once they were outside.

Iphigenia looked blankly at him. She didn't bother getting upset. That was on Deo's father, not her. She could do nothing about it.

Deo looked slightly ashamed, though. Maybe her non-reaction had made his words sink in.

"Well. I don't know. I meant–"

Iphigenia went ahead, down the steps into the sunken garden, and Deo tramped after her, muttering dubiously to himself.

"You're very tall. How tall are you?"

Iphigenia shrugged. She'd never been interested. Perhaps she was over six foot?

"They told me a bit about you," said Deo. "Talked more about your sisters, but you got a mention."

Lucky her. Iphigenia sat down on one of the benches and started rifling through the herbs. Deo went on;

"They say you're creepy and you don't talk and you just sit and listen to everything, and make potions. You're not powerful like your sisters." he paused nervously. "Can you talk?"

Iphigenia waited him out. He was beginning to look deeply concerned, when she said;

"I can talk."

He sighed. He'd finally managed to look her in the eye.

"You just don't?"

"I talk when I have something to say."

"Ugh." Deo slumped over and sat down on the opposite bench, put his elbows on his knees. "We're not idiots. We know your mother is just trying to embarrass us and get the upper hand, by fobbing us off with her worst daughter."

"And the Onasis clan offered their best son, did they?" said Iphigenia, knowing Conri would have had the same idea. Deo hesitated, reddening.

"I'm... the oldest. And I..." he gave up. "I'll be level with you, we tried the same thing. They sent me 'coz I'm the least favourite, since I can't turn into a man-wolf. It's like the shittest arranged marriage ever."

"At least you don't smell like wet dog." murmured Iphigenia. Deo scowled.

"I think they must all be immune to it or something. The entire house smells..." he paused, seemingly slightly surprised he was agreeing with her. "Well, anyway. Will your sisters let me stick around, when one of them is Grand Duchess?"

"It won't be Niobe or Eudocia."

"...no? Huh. I heard there were other girls–"

"I'm going to be Grand Duchess." said Iphigenia.