Magic Forged (Hall of Blood and Mercy #1)(6)

“There you three are.” Mr. Clark—one of the senior wizards in House Medeis and Felix’s dad, as testified by his soulful blue eyes Felix had inherited—shoved his hands in the pockets of his black trousers and joined us outside. He paused just short of us and bowed his head. “Adept.”

The pins were back in my throat. “Please don’t, Mr. Clark.”

He shook his head. “It’s Ed, now.”

I almost shuddered at the thought. “You’ve been Mr. Clark my whole life.”

“And now you’re the Adept,” he said. “You’ll be calling all of us in House Medeis by our first names.”

I scrubbed my face with my palms. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“You can,” Mr. Clark said firmly. “House Medeis believes in you.” He held out his arms to take Ivy—his granddaughter and the daughter of Felix’s older brother, Franco, who was also a member of House Medeis. “But you don’t have to do it all at once. This came as a shock and a tragedy to everyone. We can take it slow with you as you adjust, Hazel.”

His voice was so understanding I couldn’t look at him. Instead I stared at Ivy, who blearily stirred as she realized she’d been handed off. When she saw me, she smiled and tugged at her necklace—which I suspect was self-made as it mostly consisted of macaroni and colored yarn. “Hazel!” she said in her cute voice.

I cracked a smile. “Hello, Ivy. Did you have a nice nap?”

Ivy yanked on her necklace, making the metal loop someone—her mother, I suspected—had threaded through the necklace to weigh it down, smack her face. “This is for you!”

I made the necessary oohing noises. “It’s very pretty.”

“Mommy said you’re sad.”

I felt my smile splinter. “Just a bit.”

Mr. Clark stabilized her when she squirmed in his arms, trying to get the necklace off, but the little girl stopped trying when another wizard left the funeral parlor.

“Mr. Bear!” Ivy called out in delight.

The wizard—a large man who was hulking enough to rival a werewolf—smiled. “Hello there, Ivy-girl!”

“Hello, Mr. Baree,” Felix said in his very rare but true tone of respect—probably because the man had all the muscle and bulk Felix wanted.

Mr. Baree grinned at Felix, but like Mr. Clark, he bowed his head to me. “Adept.” He folded his meaty arms across his chest and squinted down at me.

“I can go back inside.” I didn’t bother to attempt a smile, but I inhaled deeply and rolled my shoulders back—which probably did more to convince them anyway.

“We can wait,” Mr. Baree said.

“It’s expected.”

Mr. Baree snorted. “What’s expected can take a swan dive off a steep cliff. This isn’t a sprint, Adept, it’s a lifestyle. You can take your time and settle in. No one is expecting you to be perfect the week your parents pass away.”

Mr. Clark rested his hand on my shoulder. “Roy is right. You’re the last in the Medeis line. House Medeis needs you, which means it’s important that you survive and don’t burn yourself out.”

Mr. Baree nodded. “The House comes first,” he said, repeating the ancient adage I’d heard probably the day I was born. “Which means you’re now our top priority. If some folks are displeased or House Medeis loses a bit of its austerity, it doesn’t matter. You are far more important.”

He meant to be encouraging.

Or supportive.

Or…something.

But those words made my stomach heave.

It felt so wrong! How could you prioritize like that? Sure, it was how wizarding Houses were supposed to operate, but I’d never seen it so brutally displayed for me.

Everyone in House Medeis would prioritize my wellbeing over everything.

“Right, well, I’m fine. So, in we go!” I trundled into motion—if I stood there and listened any more there was a very good chance I was going to throw up. “Are there any more representatives from our close allies I should greet?” I chattered to fill the silence.

“Not any that matter,” Felix sniffed.

“Well said,” Mr. Baree growled.

I slipped back inside the funeral parlor before the others could join me.

My eyes automatically slid to the viewing room where my parents’ coffins were, but I jerked my gaze away and peered around the foyer.

Mason was standing with someone at the viewing room door.

Perfect, I could ask him if I had missed anything.

I slipped through the straggling mourners—with my height I got mistaken as a high school student pretty often, so no one paid any attention as I padded around them, bits and pieces of their conversation reaching me.

“Drake struck down a law that would have allotted space for another wolf Pack in northern Minnesota.”

“You’re surprised?”

“No, just disgusted he can control our Regional Committee of Magic.”

“Vampires rule the Midwest, my friend…”

The rest of the exchange fell out of my hearing range as I edged around the two tall women—werewolves, judging by the gold gleams in their eyes.

Ugh. Politics.

Politics I’d soon have to worry about as the House Medeis Adept.