“I’m here,” I agree. “Do you mind if I come in?”
“Not at all. Take a seat.” The professor turns in his desk chair as he makes the offer, facing me fully.
I know that Broderick means the soft chair in the corner, but I wish he were offering his thighs as a spot to perch. The memory of Ame cuddled up in Jack’s lap on the dock comes back to me. The ease with which they shared that innocently intimate embrace. I crave that closeness with another.
I crave that closeness with Broderick.
But I also know what it’s like to have power taken from you. To have people act without asking. So, I won’t settle on his lap just because the impulse takes me. Just like I did not hughim after that happy hour just because I wanted it more than anything in the world. I asked him first and was honored when he said yes.
I settle in the chair, deeper this time, more comfortable in this cozy office. Broderick leans toward me with his elbows braced on his knees, eyes alight with curiosity. As if he finds me fascinating.
I don’t like the idea of others being fascinated with me. If people find me interesting, they’ll ask questions about me. They’ll want to dig into my past. They’ll want to know about what happened with the sorcerer. They’ll want to know what happenedbeforethe sorcerer.
Both of those times in my life should stay buried until I can convince myself they are forgotten.
But Broderick hasn’t pried into my past. Maybe he could be fascinated by the person that Iam.Even if that person is relatively new.
“I was hoping you could explain something to me,” I say. “Something that your siblings were discussing on Friday.”
“Of course. What are you interested in?”
“Galen’s Gauntlet.”
The event they brought up, asking if Mor might contribute to it, seemed like a competition of some kind. A challenge. And it wasn’t the first time I’d heard of the Gauntlet. Georgiana was talking on the phone to someone about the event. The woman seemed to be one of the organizers. But when I asked her about it, she said it was only for sirens and witches to plan. And that I shouldn’t worry about anything related to such a dangerous pastime.
The dismissiveness of her response irked me. The reminder that I am still anxious and skittish.
Like a rabbit.
As much as I hate my ever-present fear, I can’t deny that I’m easily startled. That I constantly risk getting overwhelmed.
I’m weak and quivering from my time with the sorcerer, an insidious voice whispers in my head.So, how could I ever be considered strong enough to participate in even a recreational activity that might have a touch of danger to it?
I don’t want to be thought of that way anymore. I don’t want tobethat way anymore.
My fear infuriates me.
What if this new beginning means more than just escaping a bad situation? What if this chance to start over means finally claiming control of my life?
If I’m going to stake a claim as the new Ophelia, then what better way than to prove I will not be cowed in a simple competition?
“Oh, yes. Galen’s Gauntlet.” Broderick leans back in his chair and takes on a tone I suspect he uses when lecturing his students. “Admittedly, I have never seen one. I moved here after the last one took place. They happen every two years in July, and I believe they are related to the founding of the town. I’m sure I could find out more information on the history if that interests you. But as to what the Gauntlet is now, it is a competition. From what Mor and Ame described to me about the last one, it is a race of sorts, but filled with magical obstacles that competitors need to maneuver through. The victor is the one who reaches the finish line first, and they hold a position of honor in town for the following two years. They win some money. But it also takes money in order to enter the competition.”
That last comment—about costing money to enter—gives me pause. I shouldn’t be surprised. Most human competitions require money to enter them. Why should a magical one be any different?
Every dollar I earn from my job is precious to me. This is the first time I’m making money of my own. And the more I save, the closer I am to creating a home of my own. To becoming a self-reliant woman.
But a part of that self-reliance is also emotional. Mental. How can I truly feel at home without first proving to myself that I am not the weak girl that I once was? That control of my life is mine?
“Anyone can compete?” I ask, envisioning my bank account and estimating how much I can spare without making an uncomfortably large dent.
“Sirens can’t compete because they organize the whole thing. My understanding is that any witch who contributes to the obstacle course cannot participate—so that would have included Mor last time. Also, if you are mated to someone who takes part in the organization of the competition, you are ineligible. That is a new rule after the last competition, where the selkie who won was mated to one of the sirens. Not that anyone believes Seamus got a leg up on the competition. No one other than …” Broderick trails off, and from the expression on his face, I can see he’s hesitant about sharing who exactly has an issue with the previous winner.
“Who was it?” I press, curious about any drama occurring in the town. I spent all of my life in some form of isolation, so I find I’m wildly curious about the details of Folk Haven residents. “Who thinks he cheated?”
Broderick grimaces, but he still answers, “Georgiana. And a few other sirens she is close to. They were furious when they found out in the middle of the competition that a siren song didn’t affect him in the same way that it did the rest of the competitors. To be fair, I heard Seamus didn’t seem to realize it either. Word is, his mate—Neri, who owns the local bookshop—was pissed at him and wasn’t speaking to him at all, and he entered the Gauntlet to win her over. That’s not a guy who’sabout to cheat. Anyway, turned out, she was in love with him, and if a siren loves you, then their song doesn’t discombobulate you the way it does with everyone else.”
Interesting. I’m not particularly surprised about that infuriating Georgiana. After living with the siren for so many months, I can easily see her being judgmental of a change in the norm.
