He struggled as best he could. Like a big shark, he seemed to have the strength behind his muscles. It would take more than just a little wrestling to get him to hold still. But he was at a disadvantage—the water wasn’t well oxygenated, and just like on the beach, he was exhausting himself before he could fight for very long. His mouth was suddenly occupied by a bothersome chunk of leather, and his head was roughly placed against the side of the tank. He groaned for a moment, with his markings losing their glow as his energy went more into keeping conscious and alive rather than feebly attempting to cast magic. He would need a lot of training before he could even be considered to be given away, and certainly not before she could safely unbind him to use his magic. But if the stories were true, such a training would be well worth the blood, sweat, and tears that would be involved with that work. Merfolk were rumored to be able to twist the world to their needs, so to have one under her power… The riches would be endless.