It was a joke. One look inside the main entrance to the mage and witch dorms told me they were living in luxury compared to us lesser magicals. Yet another example of how the more powerful members of our society discriminated against us.
But for once, I didn’t unleash a rant at Hulder about it. Instead, I obsessed over the witch with the black hair and violet eyes.
She’d captivated me from the moment I first saw her in gym class. The way her eyes sparkled like amethysts and the sweet smile she had for everyone who looked her way. Unlike her fellow witches, she didn’t ignore me. I knew immediately who she was to me, but knowing it and embracing it were very different things.
No merman or mermaid in our long history had ever had a soul-bond with a different species. Older merpeople lived in the Emerald City beneath the water in the far north, but merpeople my age preferred drifting through the oceans in small groups until we settled down with a compatible partner to make babies.
Meeting my soul-bonded mate had blown my plans out of the water.
The usual scent of mildew and piss greeted us when we entered our decrepit room. The carpet stank. I had a feeling some wolf shifter hadgotten in here over the summer break, eager to make our lives more pleasant. It was the sort of prank the wolves loved to pull.
All rooms were supposed to be warded to the occupants, but anyone with a reasonable grasp of magic could circumvent the protections. And since shifters were happy to pay mages good money in return for their magic skills, we were easy targets.
“Rumelk?” Hulder grunted, pointing to the crate of liquor my mother had sent last week. My father brewed rumelk in a hidden cave on Meratha Island, accessible only via an underwater tunnel. He made it from a special blend of elk seaweed and gilaberries. Rumelk was potent stuff. Anyone not used to drinking such strong liquor would suffer a terrible hangover, just like they would if they drank shifter moonshine, but a glass or two was great for curing a bad mood.
“Sure.” I stripped off my shorts and pulled a clean pair on before accepting a mug of rumelk. Sitting on my hard-as-stone bed, I lay back against the pillow, happy to let my thoughts drift. But Hulder wasn’t willing to ignore what had happened.
“The witch,” he grunted in his usual monosyllabic way, leaving me to fill in the gaps.
“The witch?” I pasted a blank expression on my face, keen to pretend I had no clue what he was talking about, but he raised an eyebrow as if to say,you know exactly what I mean, dude.
“Okay, yeah. I know.” Hulder wasn’t dumb. He’d seen the silver rune appear on my pectoral when her magic touched us. The mark had faded now, but every time the witch came close, that damn mating rune would give me away.
And if we ever fully mated, the mark would become permanent.
“Yours?” Hulder took a large gulp of rumelk, resistant to its potency. Trolls had cast-iron stomachs. No liquor affected them unless they drank a ridiculous quantity, but they still enjoyed it.
“No.” The witch could never be mine. Not in a million years.
Hulder held my gaze for a moment before mumbling something under his breath. Then he passed me the rest of the bottle.
“Drink all.”
I didn’t bother protesting. Hulder was right. My father’s rumelk made most things better.
Tomorrow, I would rise early and swim while the wolves slept. Avoiding the worst assholes was my best hope for surviving this place if they had resorted to using illegal magical potions against us.
I’d also do my best to avoid the witch. That way, she’d never figure out what she was to me. It was better for both of us.
33
Alaric
“You found nothing at all?” My father’s voice dripped with skepticism, but I shook my head and sighed, like it pained me as much as him I’d had no more success than the MIB investigators.
“Nothing at all other than traces of the wolves who occupied the room and a few random females.”
“What females?”
I waved my hand dismissively. “Nobody recent.”
“And the forest?”
“Just the bear and pack members who rushed out there after the murders.”
Dad cursed under his breath before staring into the middle-distance for a moment. I used the lull in conversation to pour myself a glass of elderwine. This was the good stuff. As strong as shifter moonshine, but way more palatable. Some elderwine was exactly what I needed to make this visit home more agreeable.
Dad looked up, his lip curled in annoyance. “You drink too much.”
