Page 5 of The Banshee and the Warlock

Chapter 3

Cethin

My stomach rumbles as I follow the crowd of students down the corridors and towards the dining hall. I'm famished, and a good BLT will go a long way to changing that.

I pass through the double doors that lead into a room lined with rows of tables, many of them already filled with students. I scan the faces, looking for my friends, and almost sigh with relief when I spot them at the back. I can eat without them, but it's always better to have company.

I wind my way through the assembled students, almost tripping over someone's tail as I pass.

"Sorry," they murmur, whipping it out of the way.

"No problem," I respond. It's just one of the hazards of Rosewood, and to an extent, I'm used to it. This is just what things are like at home anyway. I'm just grateful I don't have a tail of my own that I have to mind, they seem to have a mind of their own.

I let out a loud sigh as I sit down next to Afan.

"Where've you been, Cethin?" my oldest friend asks, the deep ridges above his eyes making his frown more pronounced. Or maybe it doesn't, it's hard to tell precisely what expression he's pulling because of them.

"Professor Raiser droned on a little too long," I respond.

"Ah, you had Ancient Spellbooks?" Meic asks as he reaches over to grab a club sandwich from one of the platters piled high at the centre of the table.

"Yeah. Have you?" I ask my other friend.

He nods. "Last term. He'd almost always make me late for training too."

I grimace. "Ooof, that wouldn't have been good."

"I was worried the coach would give me extra laps," Meic moans.

"Don't you already have some to do from the beginning of term?" Afan asks.

"Yep."

I shake my head in amusement and pick up a perfect-looking BLT from one of the plates while they continue to complain about several of our professors. Though I have to agree with some of their assessments.

Meic lets out a low whistle. "Hottie alert," he says through bites of club sandwich as he stares past us to whoever has caught his attention.

"Seen any of them you fancy?" Afan asks, picking bits of cucumber out of his tuna sandwich with a vague air of distaste. I know he prefers to eat fish, but there are plenty of sandwich choices that don't have salad in them.

"Several," Meic responds. "There's a girl with snakes for hair in my Divination class, and she's smoking."

"A gorgon?" I ask, somewhat surprised. I'd never have guessed that was his type.

"Careful, or she'll make you rock hard," Afan jokes.

"That's the idea." Meic grins widely.

I roll my eyes. I've known him since long before we came to Rosewood together, and he's never going to do anything about it. "What about your mate?"

"What about my mate?" Meic responds, seeming surprisingly defensive for it being such an innocent question. "What does it hurt to look before I've met them?" There's something about the way he asks that makes me feel like I'm missing important information.

I raise an eyebrow, but don't say anything. He's been my friend long enough for me to know that he'd never do anything that would jeopardise his chances of finding his mate, and that includes messing around, even if he claims he will.

"How do you even know your mate is real?" Afan asks. "I'm not sure I buy into the whole thing."

"Really?" Meic responds. "You don't think that you'll find the person that's the perfect match for you?"

Afan shrugs. "Just seems like a lot of power to give fate. What if I don't like my mate?"