22 • Chercher

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Chercher (verb) to look for, to seek

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Chercher (verb) to look for, to seek

Imogen's chambers were in the darkest recesses of the castle, far below ground, where there was easy access to the salt caverns.

This was where I found her when I came to call, soaking her ancient body in the salt pools. The only thing visible amongst the steam lifting off the surface was her wispy silver hair and jade green eyes.

"I've seen your journey in the waters," she said in her paper thin voice, barely audible over the echo of my boots on the stone floor. "It seems you found more than your sanguine partner in the capital, didn't you, boy?"

She laughed, and the sound was like the croaking of a toad.

I crouched beside the pool, as I often did when seeking her council, and tossed a handful of shells into the murky depths. An offering to the only known Witch of the Tide still living.

Her bony hand snatched them up, inspecting them carefully before setting them on the ledge behind her.

"What can I help you with, young master?"

I hesitated, dropping my chin to my chest, as thoughts of Claire filled my mind. From the first moment I saw her across the ballroom to the moment I left her at camp and every moment in between.

She was never far from my thoughts, and that was the problem. I needed my life to return to how it was before.

I glanced up at Imogen, who was waiting for my answer with her hands folded under her chin. Her thin lips pulled into the suggestion of a smile. I had the sneaking suspicion the old witch already knew what I'd come to ask.

"Is there a way to break a mate bond?"

Steam curled off the pool. Water dripped from the damp stone overhead onto my shoulder. I didn't waiver, holding the witch's gaze, waiting for an answer.

"Your mate is determined by the gods," Imogen replied. "The only way to break it, is to break them."

Breaking a god was a ludicrous suggestion. My whole purpose in life was to preserve the balance of magickal power on earth, not destroy the source of it. Frustration had my fists curling into tight balls.

"There has to be another way," I demanded. "Something. Anything."

Claire was seeping into every part of me, and I'd only known her less than a fortnight. What would I be like a month from now? Or six?

Imogen didn't blink at my reaction. "When you were made, your ancestors saw fit to give you certain limitations to check your power. It's why the sun drains your strength, why you must feast on only blood, and why you become consumed under the pull of a mate."

I waved her explanation away. "Yes, I know all this, Imogen. But there has to be a way to break this bond. I cannot be tied to Claire. This is not the right time for me to be...consumed."

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