Chapter Seventeen #3
Ceriwyn gave a minute nod. He couldn’t say how she knew what he’d meant by all of you—that this was a conversation for his Court, their little family.
Perhaps it was something in their shared blood, or just having known the language of each other’s faces for so many years.
Either way, Ceri understood well enough to turn and wave at something beyond him, one warm hand wrapped around his arm in a steady and comforting gesture he was not sure he deserved.
It was only a moment later that the waters lapped and shifted around their waists, Oswalt and Alun arriving to round out their small huddle.
They said nothing, but Kai felt his cousin’s eyes on him; felt the notable absence of Al’s eyes, too.
“Kai has something to say,” Ceri explained.
She squeezed his arm, a small prompt. He wanted to respond to it, but the words stuck in a wadded lump in his throat.
Adhlas, he should have known this would not be so easy.
In the warmth and peace of their bed, with Adeline’s eyes softened by something she had not yet put words to, this had seemed simple.
The most natural conclusion. He’d been decided the moment he emerged from Nua Laune; it was in the Merrow’s best interest. A home in the waters, a community to protect them, and a promise of peace from the Sealgair, as long as Kai was not among their number.
It was the only logical solution, and he had to tell them.
His Court, his family. The people who had trusted him, and whose trust he had so long abused.
Tell them.
“He’s not coming to Nua Laune,” said Os.
His words were flat; so matter-of-fact that Ceri’s grasp on Kai’s arm tightened as she whipped her gaze around to stare at him.
“Of course he is.”
Kai’s voice was thin, raking painfully out of his tight chest. “I’m not.”
“Are you serious?” She peered up at him through narrowed eyes. “This would be a very strange joke. And not in the best taste, either.”
His voice was not any steadier, no less painful. “I’m not joking.”
“But—” Ceri spluttered. “But it’s a home, Koo. It’s not the Laune, but it’s something, somewhere we can all be together and—”
Her words came fast, tumbling over one another, so thick that Kai knew she must be close to tears; though to confirm it would be to meet her eye, and he could not bring himself to do that.
The shame of that small weakness hung around his neck like a noose, so heavy he could not move even if he’d tried.
“I’m not welcome there, Ceriwyn.”
“Because of the Sealgair?”
Kai stiffened. He had not told Ceri about the Sealgair, nor the threat on his life. In his periphery, Alun shifted guiltily, though when Kai looked up, his friend still would not meet his eye.
“Yes,” Kai said finally. “Because of the Sealgair; because their Elder Council would rather not invite conflict into their waters, and honestly, I cannot fault them for that. They have a duty to protect their people, just as I have my duty to ours.”
“But Daithí said they might reconsider—”
Kai shook his head and heard her breath catch.
“The Elders might, but the Sealgair have harboured their grudge for six hundred years. I can’t fault them for that either.”
“Can we fault you?” she shot back. He flinched.
Her tone had gone from panicked and pleading to barbed, cold.
Each word was a shard of ice between his ribs.
“You can’t keep doing this, Kai. Hiding me away in a manor, shipping me off to a village of total strangers.
You’re the only family I have left, and you keep shunting me to one side and calling it protection. ”
She was crying openly now; he could hear it. Kai finally won the battle with his own body; pushing through the painful shame that lay so thick on his shoulders, he turned his head and reached for his sister.
“Ceri—”
But her skin was slick with saltwater, and she pulled easily out of his grasp, then turned and slipped like an eel beneath the tide.
“Don’t,” said Os, before Kai could even register his own instinct to follow her. “She has a point, Kai. Let her be angry, if that’s what she needs.”
Something in the words caught at him. They were thorny and brittle as the coral that snagged at your clothes as you swam past, tearing at skin and leaving stinging little scratches. He faced his cousin and found understanding at once in the grim set of Oswalt’s brow.
“You’re angry too.”
“Yes,” said Os evenly. “Let us be angry.”
With that, he too turned away, wading toward the splashing and laughter, the blissful cacophony of their oblivious kin. And then there was only Alun; still standing here, only an arm’s length away. Still not meeting his eye.
Kai’s heart climbed up his throat and stayed there, every word he spoke wavering beneath its thundering pulse.
“I understand if you feel the same, Al.”
Alun shook his head. He spoke as though in afterthought, quiet and distant.
“I think you’re making the right choice. Our people need a home; Ceri needs protection; you and Os both need to set down that weight on your shoulders. This is the answer. I understand that, and I’d do the very same thing.”
The relief that swept through him ebbed just as swiftly, dragging that shame and unease back up his throat in its wake; Alun still would not look at him.
“But you are angry,” said Kai. “You have been angry.”
Al stared down at the rise and fall of the ocean, at the light refracting in the clear waters around them. He did not deny it.