own nearly as many of the houses of Mystic Circle as it used to. I think it’s better that the homes remain in private hands.”
The man meant in human hands like his own, not owned by the Lightfolk royals of Eight Corp. “We still have the Castle,” Lathyr murmured.
“And Eight Corp owns the other bungalow across from Kiri,” Amber Davail, Rafe’s wife, who was related to a great elf, said. “Number nine.”
“Really?” Kiri said. “I didn’t know that.”
Rafe smiled easily, but Lathyr was aware that the man was blowing spume at him for some reason. “Maybe Eight Corp will let you have number nine.”
Jenni joined them again, shaking her head. “Nope, no pool.”
Lathyr dipped his head. “Yes, a pool is necessary.”
Kiri looked puzzled and Rafe laughed.
“I am weary. I must go,” Lathyr said. “I am sorry that we didn’t speak more, Kiri.”
“I’ll expect the car at 6:50 a.m. on Thursday morning,” she said.
Lathyr smiled.
Princess Jindesfarne’s husband came forward. “I’ll see you out,” Aric said. Lathyr sighed. The Treeman meant that he would take Lathyr home by way of tree. In this dry country it was faster than letting his molecules disperse into water droplets and finding a stream or cloud to take him where he needed to be. But Lathyr found traveling from tree to tree profoundly disturbing. Instead of moving as individual components, he felt solid and trees seemed to move through him. Stressful. “Thank you,” he said politely but with an underwash of resignation.
Aric laughed, jerked his head toward the park, then glanced at Jenni. “Be right back.”
She grinned. “Sure.”
Lathyr decided everyone was enjoying themselves at his expense. He was the outsider. He rippled his fingers as a land man would shrug. Nothing new. That small bit of elven air magic in his being had always made him an outsider, ensured he had no permanent home. Most mers had their own space and were territorial. Ocean-living Merfolk preferred to live in communities—as structured as any other Lightfolk setting. He’d always been on the bottom level and so had become a reluctant drifter, always an outsider.
Then Tamara Thunderock was there, and he realized that he was wrong about the residents of Mystic Circle. Everyone here believed they were outsiders but had melded together as a family, and thought he was the insider with the Lightfolk. Jenni was half-human; Aric was Earth Treefolk, not other-dimensional Lightfolk; Tamara was fully magic but half-Earth and half-Air and no doubt despised by both due to their opposite natures; Rafe and Amber were human.
So he was the outsider of their Mystic Circle, but they believed him to be more accepted by the Lightfolk than any of the rest of them. Very discomfiting.
Right then he decided to ask his superior for leave to live in the Castle of Mystic Circle while he tested Kiri. The Castle had a huge pool in addition to a natural spring and a well on the grounds. He, too, would become one of the Mystic Circle community—for a while.
Always and only for a while, until he was more valued.
Since all their gazes were on him, he ran a finger along the curve and the point of his ear, let it show for an instant along with the bluish tinge to his skin that was all mer.
Demonstrating his own mixed heritage that would keep him from the highest ranks.
Rafe stopped laughing and narrowed his eyes. The human must not have noticed Lathyr’s mingled water-air nature before.
Tamara said, “Or I can see you out, Lathyr.”
Again they were confusing Kiri, making too much of walking him to the front door. Tamara would no doubt take Lathyr through tunnel and rock. He suppressed a shudder, worse than tree being passed through him was rock. “Thank you for your offer.”
“I’ll take care of him,” Aric assured the small dwarf-elf woman. “Tamara, why don’t you load up a plate or two for him.”
She nodded and moved toward the tables, efficiently making a box of food that Lathyr would encase in a bubble to store underwater. He’d noticed they had salmon, a treat.
He realized he’d underestimated the sun and the altitude and the dryness and had to draw on a bit of his air magic to keep the pressure around him and prop him up. His blood had to pump hard through his body.
Kiri’s eyes were wide—beautiful, beautiful sea-foam-green eyes. He also admired her curvaceous body. He’d let the attraction to her, as well as this magically balanced place, keep him too long.
His skin was beginning to tighten and flake. He needed to be in water now! Another foolish mistake that would cost him. The royals would hear of his errors, of course.
Aric or Princess Jindesfarne or Rafe Davail would tell them. Then Lathyr would be sent away.
And he didn’t want to leave this magical place. Here was community and safety.
Outside was a begrudged sleeping spot, solitariness and the threat of a Dark one and his creatures.
The threat of evil pained less than the certainty of loneliness. For the first time, ever, Lathyr considered living permanently on land, though a prized place here in this special location would not be given to the likes of him.
Despite everything, all his mistakes, all his past experiences, the sun beating on him, he wanted to stay.
“Let’s go,” Aric said, clamping a large hand that felt like wood around Lathyr’s biceps.
He shrugged off the hand. After another half bow to Kiri, he followed the Treeman.
He’d made more mistakes. The project wasn’t beginning well. He hoped that wasn’t an ill omen for the whole thing.
He didn’t want Kiri Palger to die.
Chapter 4
AFTER THE PARTY, Jenni Emberdrake and her husband, Aric, closed up the house and sank into plump cushioned lounge chairs in the sunroom—a room her brownies had made earlier in the year. She loved the place.
Aric grunted. “Good party.”
Leaning back and closing her eyes, Jenni said, “Yes. I love the neighborhood parties, but don’t care too much for hosting them. I think Amber and Rafe should do it all the time.”
“Our turn,” Aric reminded. “Thank you, Hartha and Pred.”
From the sound of his voice above her, Jenni figured he’d stood and bowed to the two brownies who lived with them.
Opening her eyes and hauling herself up, she bowed to the couple, as well. “Thank you for all your work.”
Hartha shrugged little brownie shoulders. Taller than her husband, she still stood less than a meter high. Her mouth was straight and the tips of her huge triangular ears folded over in concern, and Jenni sat sideways on the chair so she’d be
