‘Got it.’
Rage turned his attention to the selkie king and asked, “How long have you ruled the selkies? The last record we have was when King Pike ruled.”
“That was back when your uncle banned us from Shifter Island,” Ozark replied, his tone heavily weighted with displeasure. “Nearly twenty years ago.”
Yikes! I hadn’t realized the timing was so close to when Crescent Clan got the boot.
I tuned out their conversation and approached the young mage. “How many bindings like this have you done before?”
“A couple dozen.” He shrugged and began to organize the items, setting the knife, three wooden bowls, and a bottle of mage wine on one cart and everything else on the other.
I sidled up closer and dropped my voice. “Sooo, you seem pretty powerful. Are you an adept? Or maybe even a master mage?”
I probed for how well this guy knew his magical crap since he was about to cut into my mate.
“No,” he muttered, shooting me a glare. “Only the rich mage kids get to attend the High Mage Academy and get a mage ranking.”
What? High Mage Academy sounded lame—or maybe that was all of mage society. “That’s stupid.”
He looked up from his sorting and just glared at me. “It is what it is.”
“What’s with all the ingredients?” I pointed to his bowls and other stuff he’d amassed. “You sure you can do this? I’m sort of fond of my mate and don’t want it backfiring.”
He glared at me and shook his head. “Of course I can. Why else would I be bound to the selkie king if I wasn’t the best in my village?”
Whoa. “Bound?Like an indentured servant?”
Was that even legal? I guess so since Surlama said her sister was in a similar situation with the alpha king.
He shook his head, and the tension coiling in my chest waned.
“My mother had eight kids. She couldn’t afford to feed all of us, so she sold me—” he leaned forward. “—like a slave. That’s what happens out here when you’re born into poverty,Alpha Heir.” He sliced the tip of a dagger through his hand, letting the blood from his wound drip into the wooden bowl.
Someone was grumpy, not that I could blame him.
He wound a piece of muslin around the cut and then faced me. “Or should I call youHighMage Heir?”
‘My cover’s been blown. Mayday! Mayday!’I told Rage, but he just looked at me funny from across the room.
I straightened, my heart thundering in my chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I played coy but yanked my top up to cover my mark in case it was exposed again.
“Sure you don’t.” He shook his head. “There’s a different name for those likeyou…”
I stepped back, willing him to keep his mouth shut.
His expression tightened, and he hissed, “High crime.”
Frick.
“Are you ready, Jakko boy?” King Ozark asked from across the room. “Breakfast is done, and I’m famished. I’m sure our guests are hungry as well.”
The mage glared at the king and poured some mage wine into the bowl with his blood. Then, he dragged a strip of linen through the elixir and set it into the next empty bowl. When he looked up toward the king and Rage, his expression smoothed, and he smiled vapidly. “Give me your hand next, Alpha Heir.” He looked to Rage.
‘Is it okay?’ Rage asked.
‘I don’t know.’ I swallowed hard. ‘I’ll make sure he doesn’t take very much blood, but I couldn’t get a good read on him.’
I didn’t know crap about magic, but why was Jakko usinghisblood in the spell when it was only between Rage and the king? I guess I didn’t do a very good job of scoping this dude out. But we’d have to roll with it if we wanted out of here.
