She rose then, dark robes whispering softly against stone floors as she crossed toward the massive arched windows overlooking the cliffs below.
“Asgarheim is unique,” she said quietly. “Here, Witches, Monsters, and supernaturals who cannot safely exist within the human realm may live openly without fear of persecution or exposure.”
Lightning flashed beyond the glass.
For one eerie moment, her silhouette looked ancient against the storm.
“However,” she continued, “such openness carries consequences.”
I frowned slightly.
“What kind of consequences?”
Professor Kenna turned slowly toward me.
“The Fates take notice. And they do enjoy their games.”
A chill slipped down my spine.
“Games?”
“Yes.”
The older Witch folded her hands loosely before her.
“The boundaries between realms weaken here. Power deepens. Bonds strengthen. And the Fates…”
Her green eyes sharpened slightly.
“The Fates are fond of creating matches where none existed before.”
Oh.
OH.
I nearly laughed from sheer relief.
“Professor,” I said immediately, “I really don’t think I have to worry about that.”
One dark brow lifted elegantly.
“No?”
“My mother is completely fine with me becoming a spinster,” I admitted dryly. “As long as I eventually prove I have some use to the Coven.”
The words came out lighter than they felt.
Because underneath the sarcasm sat years of ugly truth.
No one in my family expected romance for me anymore.
Not really.
My older sisters had husbands or mates or prestigious magical partnerships.
My cousins already produced magically gifted children and hosted elaborate realm gatherings back home in New Jersey.
Meanwhile I attended graduate school at thirty years old, trying not to fail Introductory Affinity Mapping.
