Mist-Torn 01 - The Mist-Torn Witches Read Free Page A

ancient woman who smiled, exposing yellow teeth. She closed the door behind herself. “I am Madam Zelinka. You might know of me?”
    Céline did. She’d heard the name from several of her more prominent patrons, but no one who paid for Céline’s services would ever be closely connected to Madam Zelinka. She was a marriage broker to the great noble houses, spinning a web of connections to increase wealth or bloodlines or to shore up weakening titles.
    What could she possibly want here?
    But Céline wasn’t about to insult her and bowed politely. “Yes, ma’am. I’m honored by your visit. May I bring you some hot tea?”
    The old woman’s smile widened, chilling Céline to the bone. “What a dear girl you are,” Madam Zelinka said, moving to a chair and sitting down. “Tea would be most welcome.” She wore her white hair up in a simple bun on her head, and even through her wet cloak, she smelled like a dusty attic.
    Captain Kochè remained standing to one side of the doorway, still dripping on the floor, with his gaze locked on Céline’s waist. She tried to ignore him as she moved toward the teapot.
    But before anyone else could say a word, thedoor burst open again, and Amelie came running inside, panting, with one hand on the hilt of her dagger.
    “Céline!” she cried and then calmed somewhat at the sight of her sister by the hearth.
    A guard from outside appeared behind her, seeming surprised and looking to his captain for orders, but Kochè waved him away and the guard simply closed the door.
    Turning to the captain, Amelie spat out, “What are you doing in here?”
    Céline winced inwardly. Amelie and Kochè hated each other, and neither bothered to hide it. In fact, if the shop hadn’t been the most lucrative tax source in Shetâna, Céline might have worried for her sister’s safety.
    The thing was, Kochè was the type who liked his women to look and behave…well, like women. At seventeen, Amelie was even shorter than Céline. But where Céline was slight, Amelie’s build showed a hint of her strength and muscle. She insisted upon wearing breeches, a faded blue shirt, a short canvas jacket, and boots. She shared Céline’s lavender eyes and small nose, but she’d inherited their father’s straight black hair, which she’d cropped into a bob that hung just below her jaw.
    When she and Céline had first been orphaned, they’d seemed easy targets for wandering soldiers, but Amelie had quickly proven that assumption wrong. She relied on speed and the element of surprise,and she could cut a man open in a matter of seconds with that dagger on her hip.
    “
He
is doing nothing here,” Madam Zelinka answered, sounding a tad less friendly now. “My business is with your sister.”
    Céline hurried over to stand between them. “Amelie, this is a marriage broker. She may have a task for me.”
    Amelie looked quickly between Céline and the woman. Although Amelie was overprotective and hot-tempered, she was certainly no fool, and this visit smelled of money.
    “She’d like some tea,” Céline went on. “Could you please get it for her?”
    Their eyes locked, and then Amelie nodded once, heading for the hearth. Kochè was not making any threats. In fact, as yet, he hadn’t said a word.
    When it came to business, Céline always took the lead. She moved to the table and sat across from Madam Zelinka. “How is it that I might help you?”
    The old woman’s smile returned—along with her exposed yellow teeth—and she pulled three silver coins from inside the damp cloak. “Just a minor task, a trifle really.”
    The size of the payment hardly suggested a trifle, but Céline remained silent, waiting politely. She’d learned a long time ago that people tended to share more if they were left in silence for a while. Amelie set a steaming mug of the tea on the table.
    “You’ll have another visitor late this afternoon,” Madam Zelinka continued, “a young noblewoman…a minor noblewoman, who will ask