Page 182 of The Black Witch

“I’ve seen the Selkies brought into the docks in Valgard,” Trystan comments quietly. “They were stacked inside of crates. It bothered me a great deal.”

“I often rode past the groundskeeper’s cottage,” Andras interjects. “He kept her chained to a post. I also volunteer to kill this man.”

“Thank you, Andras,” Rafe says, “but we need to wait on killing him for the time being.” He looks around again. “Does everyone here understand that to help Elloren is to be in violation of the law, Verpacian and Gardnerian, and could result in fines for theft and possible suspension or dismissal from the University?”

Everyone nods.

“Well, all right, then. If that’s understood, we can think about where to go from here.”

“Perhaps it would be good if we introduce ourselves,” I suggest. “Not everyone here knows each other.”

“I don’t know, Ren,” Rafe points out. “Yvan here has been so annoyingly chatty from day one, I feel like I know everything there is to know about him.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows at Yvan pointedly, and Yvan steps forward, hands in his pockets, and coolly meets Rafe’s gaze before glancing around at all of us.

“I’m Yvan Guriel, from the Lyndon region of Keltania, and I was shocked to see the groundskeeper’s treatment of the Selkie.” He turns to look at me. “I believe Elloren did the right thing.”

Flustered, I look away, only to find Jarod staring at me, his brow raised in momentary surprise.

Like Diana, no doubt he can sense my mortifyingly strong attraction to Yvan.The realization makes me want to crawl clear under the bench. My flush deepening, I stiffen, sit up straighter and fruitlessly try to ignore Yvan.

Jarod’s, Andras’s, Trystan’s and Diana’s introductions follow, Diana shooting me a self-satisfied glance when she only lists her ancestry back two generations instead of the usual five. But I can barely focus on her, my attention continuously pulled back to Yvan like a compass needle to true north. Out of the corner of my eye, I see he’s distracted as well, his eyes repeatedly drawing back to me.

Finally, there’s only one introduction left, and all eyes turn to the figure perched on the windowsill.

Wynter lets her wings drop to her sides. “I am Wynter Eirllyn,” she says very softly, “cursed daughter of Feonir and Avalyn, sister to Cael. I am one of the Foul Ones. One who brings great shame to all of Elfinkin, and who is shunned by the Shining Ones.” Wynter slumps back down and wraps her wings around herself.

“What are you speaking of?” Diana demands. “Who are these Shining Ones who are being so cruel to you?”

“They are the Keepers of the Inner Sanctum,” Wynter explains. “The creators of our world.”

“This is foolishness,” Diana protests indignantly. “Maiya,The Great Mother,created the world. And you seem perfectly pleasant, and not foul at all. Why are you insulting yourself?” Diana turns to all of us. “She has been very kind to the Selkie woman. She is not the least bit foul.”

Cael and Rhys look at Diana, surprised.

Rafe leans in toward Diana. “The Elfin religion differs from yours, Diana.”

“My sister believes very strongly in Elfin ways,” Cael explains.

Diana snorts at him disdainfully. “Well, these ways of yours are ridiculous, and just not true. Maiyacreated the world and placed the shapeshifters in it as her special children. Then she made all of you as an afterthought, but no one is despised or shunned or any of this nonsense she is speaking of. No one, except for people who act like that groundskeeper, who should be killed as soon as possible.”

“Different cultures have different ideas about things,” Rafe interjects.

“They are deluded,” Diana counters. “The Lupines are correct.”

Rafe arches an eyebrow at her. “Because you are the superior race?”

“You are mocking me. Yes, we are superior. It is easy to see. We do not beat seal women and force people to mate with people they dislike and take everyone’s land...”

“The Gardnerians would say that their military successes are proof that the Ancient One is real and most powerful,” Rafe counters. “And the Elves would perhaps point to their rich art, music and culture as proof of their being especially blessed by the Shining Ones.”

“You are not making any sense!”

“My apologies. I forgot that your religion is the only correct one.”

“You are mocking me again. He is mocking me, isn’t he?” she asks all of us. Jarod, Andras and Trystan are attempting to stifle grins.

“No, Diana, I’m not,” Rafe laughs. “I’m trying to make a point.”

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