Chapter 18
Dawson lay in bed, awake and waiting for it to be light enough to get up.
It had been three days since the rock pool incident—which is how he was referring to it.
And while he hadn’t mentioned it to Katrina, she knew something was up.
She’d asked how his day was, and he told her it had been the same as usual.
Something about his face must’ve given away his uncertainty because she’d asked what had happened.
Dawson figured she was expecting it to be something bad, and he didn’t know how to tell her that he had gotten frisky with the king with three soldiers watching only meters away.
Not that they could’ve seen much because Ul had done something to make it look as though he had wings between the tentacles on his left and right sides.
He half expected to be in trouble for doing anything, and he wasn’t sure why he had, only that at some point he’d been unable to resist, or had given up trying to resist, because it was clear Ul was interested.
He scrubbed his hand over his face, or at least Ul had been interested.
Since the incident, there hadn’t been a single touch, and things were now rather chilly.
He must’ve done something wrong, or rude, or something.
Not that it should matter to him. It was nothing more than a hook-up with a stranger on an exotic island.
It was something he should put behind him instead of dreaming of more.
He did not want to be known as the human who fucked the king. Were there other humans finding themselves attracted to mythological beings?
Or was he the only weirdo?
It hadn’t felt weird at the time, but some of it had been different, given that Ul’s dick could wrap around his and was as dexterous as his tentacles. Then there were the suckers…
Now he wasn’t sure where he stood, except for a couple of feet behind the king.
Following him around and jabbering about anything and everything to keep up the chatter that Ul demanded.
He was pretty sure he’d recited his life story, including the bits he’d never shared with anyone.
Told every funny anecdote he remembered, even if they hadn’t happened to him.
Had talked about a few places he traveled to, and when he really ran out of things to say, he talked about the movies he’d watched or books he’d read, describing the plot in great detail as best he could.
There were times when he was silent, usually when Ul was listening to other people.
For part of each day, Ul sat in a big hall on a throne, and people came to see him.
Some of those people dressed fancy, but some seemed to be regular folk.
It was during those times he was supposed to sit in the back and listen.
It was easier to tell when someone was upset or making demands, but normal conversations were much harder for him to determine what was going on. He tried not to get caught up in the words, and based on the tone, he made up scenarios and imagined what the complainer and king were saying.
Katrina was having the same problem as she followed the doctor around.
She had given up trying to point to things and learn the words because the doctor had shaken her head and tapped her chest, much the same as Ul.
It was clear these people did not learn languages the same way they’d been taught in school.
He had been allowed to send a written message back to the platform, letting management know that they were fine and that the language barrier would be resolved shortly.
Management had sent back a list of food items they needed.
Things like flour, butter, fruit, vegetables, and meat.
He’d spent time in the kitchen with the king’s PA, Ifer pointing at food and then at the list, but he didn’t know if the island was going to be able to feed all the people.
Not only that, but it wasn’t fair to expect the farmers and everyone else to provide the food for free.
As soon as the sky changed from grey to pink, indicating dawn, he got up.
Katrina pulled the blanket over her head. “Why do you have to get up so early?”
It wasn’t that he wanted to be up early, and it wasn’t that he had too much to do. It was more that he couldn’t lie there with his thoughts racing around the inside of his skull with nowhere to go. He had no one to talk to, and the one person he did want to talk to had pulled away.
He pulled on his underwear and socks, which were still toasty warm from baking in front of the fire, and then the tunic and cloak.
Breakfast hadn’t been delivered yet; yesterday, he hadn’t waited either.
He’d taken advantage of being allowed to wear shoes and socks again and gone for a walk around the courtyard and found the steps that led to the wall around the palace—there was another around the town—with the soldier following him, and by the time he had done that, it was time to meet the king in what Dawson referred to as his office, where he sat and dictated stuff to his PA.
It was also where Ul sat and listened to him.
There was usually some fruit and bread in case the people who came to his office were hungry, so that’s what he ate. So far, no one had told him he was eating too much or eating the wrong thing.
When he was led into the office, he was surprised that Ifer wasn’t there. Perhaps he was running errands. Dawson sat in his usual seat to the side and out of the way, but Ul motioned for him to sit opposite and for the soldier to leave.
Something was definitely up.
Dawson sat in the seat he’d only ever seen people in fancy clothes use, feeling as though he’d just been called to the principal’s office or was about to get yelled at by his boss. Those kinds of meetings never went his way.
“I fucked up the other day, I get it. I have apologized, even though that’s been pointless. I don’t know what else to do.” The words bubbled out of his mouth. “I don’t know what else to say. Is there anything left to say?”
Ul rested his arms on the table, resting the bandaged stump on his hand as if to protect it. He pressed his lips together.
Here it came, the ‘I’m so disappointed in you’ talk, or the ‘I expected better’. Two sides of the same conversation, both of them telling him that he wasn’t enough or hadn’t done enough. Perhaps this time, he had done too much.
“I am thinking,” Ul said in English. He lifted one of his long finger tentacles as if to stop Dawson from speaking, but he couldn’t hold back his gasp of surprise.
“You’ve learnt my language. English.”
Ul tilted his head and frowned. He had no eyebrows to pull together, but if he did, they would be furrowed. “Not as it flows.”
“Fluently. Not fluently. But one thousand times better than I speak your language.” There were occasions where he felt he got the vibe, but as soon as he grasped that, it fractured, and he was left with nothing. It was like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands.
“More days.” He lifted a second finger.
Did that mean in two more days, he would be fluent in English? That was impossible. English wasn’t a language; it was a patchwork blanket of bits of every European language and some that no longer existed.
“How? I’m struggling.” What was the secret that could’ve saved him hours of homework at school?
Ul tapped his chest. “Look for…meaning…not the word.”
Even though he had asked for the names of things, he couldn’t remember them all. But how was he supposed to find the meaning of words without knowing the words? “I don’t understand.”
“I understood your apology. Not from the words. From…” Ul wrinkled his nose as he grimaced.
“My tone of voice?”
Ul shook his head. “Some…” He tapped his chest again. “The meaning.”
He didn’t mean the literal meaning. “Intent? Like the emotion I was trying to convey?”
“Yes.” Ul smiled and relaxed. “I listened much these past days.”
“It felt like you were ignoring me.” Why did he say that? He didn’t want to be bitching to the king, especially when things had been so tense. It wasn’t as if Ul owed him anything.
“That is hard to do. I needed to listen more. And think. And then talk.”
Oh, was this the awkward morning after talk, now that they could actually talk?
Not that he expected anything to happen between them.
It was obvious it couldn’t. Not in the long-term, but in the short-term, he very much wanted to explore his newfound interest in tentacles.
He’d had three days to debate his own sanity.
Is that what Ul had been doing?
He was a king, though; he could have and do whatever he wanted…couldn’t he?
“We don’t need to talk about it.” It had happened, and as much as he’d like a repeat, it wasn’t something he should want.
Ul wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met, and not just because he had blue skin and tentacles—maybe that was part of it, but it didn’t explain the attraction that had kept him up at night.
And now that Ul spoke English, Dawson wasn’t needed.
His chest was almost crushed by the weight of the realization.
“We do. You do not know my kind. I am krakke, and you are from the same world as the Nosemen.” He pressed his lips together and glanced at the papers on his desk, which included the list of food for the platform.
“The storm that brought your oil platform… The sea is different. The floor. The water. Which world are we in?”
It was different talking to Ul now that he understood. All the secrets Dawson had told when no one understood froze on his lips. He was supposed to be negotiating for food, not spouting theories about the destruction of an entire world.
“Your face tells me the truth. Felloi is now in your world.”
Dawson nodded. “Not just the island. There are dragons…” How did he explain planes and helicopters to Ul? Or phones or computers. “The company that owns the platform will send a boat, but the people need food.”
“Food has been sent.”
“Enough for ninety people?” He did not want to draw ninety dots or lines. “Um…can I?” He pointed at the charcoal.
Ul pushed it and the rough paper toward him. He drew nine dots the way Ul had done. Then ten dots. He pointed to the smaller cluster. “Nine.” Then the bigger cluster. “Ten. Ten lots of nine is ninety.”
He really hoped that Ul knew his times tables.
Ul wrote on his paper. “No, not enough. I send more, but your people need to…trade? Work?”
“You want them to help? What do you need them to do?” He was sure that management wouldn’t have a problem sending some teams out to work. It would give people things to do.
“There was damage to bridges and buildings.”
“Would you like me to write a letter, like Ifer?”
Ul nodded. “I want to talk about…” He reached out and put a tentacle over Dawson’s hand. Immediately, his freckles turned pink. “This.”
“Is it not normal?”
Ul paused for a moment as if searching for the right words. “It is normal for my kind when…”
“Attracted to someone?” Or was he putting his foot in his mouth and swallowing up to his knee?
Ul laughed. “No… Can make small.” He cradled his arms.
Dawson’s eyebrows collided in confusion. “Babies? Children? But you’re a man, aren’t you?” Not that he knew anything about krakke. Was that like kraken? Oh…Ul’s kind was in human myth, but they’d gotten it all wrong.
Ul spoke in his own language as though trying to find the words Dawson was still amazed that he was speaking English so well and getting better the more he talked.
“I am a man. Katrina is a woman.”
Ul nodded. “Krakke only one kind and need a human to make babies.”
“That seems like a design flaw.” But that is what he’d seen in the stained-glass window. “Wait…you’re saying that not every human can make babies with you? The librarian’s freckles didn’t turn pink when he touched me.”
“He touched you?” Ul’s voice was low, and a ripple of something close to desire rolled down Dawson’s spine.
“Only to show me something.” Was Ul being possessive? “Back to the freckles—they only turn pink when compatible with the human?” So it wasn’t about him at all.
“Yes. Why we need to talk.”
“You want babies. Heirs to rule after you.” That hurt more than it should because Ul was only interested in him because his freckles turned pink. Not that it mattered as he’d be leaving on the boat anyway.
Ul winced. “I did not expect this. And it may not be possible. I tried many times with my human.”
“Your human?” Every word was making this worse.
“We shared a bed. He was a match.” He waved his long fingers as though Dawson should be able to work out the rest.
“Your husband? You were married? Or you are married?” He did not want to be getting in the middle of that.
“He died several years ago. I am attracted and compatible, but you did not know these things. You need to understand, to think and talk.”
That was a lot to think about. And potential children was not a discussion he ever thought he’d need to have.
Sure, kissing Ul in the rock pool had probably been a mistake, and the silence that had followed had hurt because he had wanted more.
He’d hoped for a fling, though, and now things were far different than what he believed.
“I’m not sure what we’re talking about.”
Was Ul expecting him to father children?
He glanced at the list of food required by the platform, and his stomach tightened. “Is that list dependent on our talk?”
“No!” Ul drew back as if shocked that was even a possibility. “I will not let people starve. Our talk remains between us.”
Dawson nodded, relieved that whatever was happening wouldn’t impact the people on the platform.
He couldn’t tell Katrina any of this. He didn’t want to admit that he’d done anything with the king.
And that was a problem. Though he was fairly sure it was only a problem because he didn’t know how she’d react or how anyone on the platform would react.
He could already imagine them calling him a squid-fucker.
And what happened when the boat came? It might be weeks away, or months—he didn’t know. For how long was he going to put everything on hold while hoping for the boat? What was wrong with making the most of the time he had here?
And what was going to happen when the boat came, and they all went back to England, which was facing its own problems following the collapse. For a couple of heartbeats, staying on the island, far away from the riots and fighting, seemed like a good idea.
He didn’t have to commit to anything right now. They were just talking, and he was learning about Ul and the krakke. “I would like to get to know you and understand.”
Ul smiled. “And I would like to learn more about your world and what has happened. But first, letter and food.”