Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
The sky is a clear blue shot through with red. My breath billows out in a misty cloud as I cradle my cup of tea.
We’re standing by the harbour in Mousehole. The tide is out, and boats rest forlornly on the sand. The stone sides of the harbour are wet and dank with lichen, but the Christmas decorations are bold and bright, and the strains of “I Saw Three Ships” are issuing cheerily from a nearby café.
I take a sip of my tea, warming my hands on the cup. “It’s going cold already,” I say sadly.
Sigurd takes the cup from me, breathes over it for a few seconds, and steam immediately billows out.
“Here,” he says, handing it back to me. “I may have used more power than I should, so do not drink just yet.”
“I want you at all my picnics from now until the end of time.”
He chuckles and tugs on one of my curls, watching in fascination as it bounces back.
“Like a spring,” he says affectionately.
“Your hair echoes your nature, elskling.” He takes a sip of his coffee and makes a pleased-sounding groan that makes me shift on our bench.
He shoots me a knowing look and does it again.
I reach out and shove him gently. Mind you, I could shove even harder, and he still wouldn’t move. It’s like pushing a mountain.
“Shut up,” I say, hearing his laughter with a pleasure that’s tinged with pain. I don’t have much longer with him. Not long enough to listen to that laugh. Nothing is long enough for that.
Panic rises, and as if sensing my emotions, he takes my spare hand in his big one and cradles it on his thigh. The warmth against the cold digits is very welcome.
“Tell me why we are here, Cary. You merely mentioned we had to come to Mousehole and then snored so loudly on our journey here that the gulls took flight.”
“I do not snore, and I didn’t fall asleep while we were flying,” I say, smiling as he chuckles again. It’s such a merry and lovely sound.
He’s watching me, and I remember his question.
“It was the stone king’s mention of a newspaper and local hotels.
I suddenly remembered reading a paper on the morning this all started.
” He raises his eyebrow, his attention all on me as usual.
I could get used to that, I think wistfully, and carry on.
“I remembered reading a story about a freak wave that soaked some tourists a few days ago.”
“And it was here?” he says, his eyes sharpening.
I nod. “Morveren was so concerned about someone getting their hands on a mermaid’s comb. Why? I knew it had to do with more than just getting her home. So, what would cause a freak wave like that? It wasn’t in any of the forecasts.”
He stares out at the sea, his eyes distant as he thinks. When he turns, the approval in them warms me further. “My clever Cary,” he says, threading his hand through my hair and pulling me forward. He takes my mouth in a lusty kiss, and when he pulls back, my cheeks must be cherry red.
I clear my throat as he watches me knowingly. “Anyway, I thought we could wait here and see what we can find out. The village is quiet, as it’s so near to Christmas, so strangers will stick out.”
He nods, looking over my shoulder. “I think there is no need. Here she is.”
I turn and gasp when I see a young woman walking towards us.
She’s extremely beautiful, and I know instantly that she’s Mer.
It’s in the grace of her stride and the otherworldly beauty.
Her hair is long and dark, and her eyes are as grey as a rain-washed morning.
She’s wearing jeans and a man’s jacket that’s too big for her, and her eyes are sparkling with temper.
“I heard your wings on the air,” she snaps at Sigurd.
“Melusine,” he says calmly. “What a surprise.”
“Don’t lie,” she snaps, her eyes flaring. “You knew I was here.”
Sigurd kindly refrains from dumping me in it and just nods. “There are a lot of people looking for you.”
“And I bet two of them weren’t concerned and were more occupied in using me to fulfil their own ambitions. My parents are such charming people.”
She’s not wrong, and Sigurd doesn’t try to pretend. Instead, he pats the bench. “Come sit, Melusine. You will give me a crick in my neck staring up at you so.”
She huffs and flings herself down next to him. I smile at her. “You look cold. Let me get you a drink from the food truck over there. Hot chocolate?”
She stares at me. “Who are you?” Her voice holds a chilly sneer.
“He is Cary,” Sigurd says, and there’s a lash in his voice—a warning. “And he is far too kind to be subjected to your temper.”
She winces. “I am sorry,” she starts to say, and I hold up my hand.
“No need. It’s a difficult situation. But I do find hot chocolate is a cure for most things.”
When I return with my hands full of cups, Melusine seems a little better humoured, although very animated. Her arms are going a mile a minute as she talks.
“He is the most beautiful man in the whole world,” she’s saying.
Sigurd has a rather long-suffering look on his face, and I conceal my smile, instead sitting next to her and handing her the drink and a croissant.
“Thank you,” she says gratefully. “I have found that human bodies can get so tiresomely tired. And the hunger. I seem to have an empty feeling in my belly permanently.”
“Are you human, then?” I say in surprise.
“I have renounced my tail,” she says grandly, and then glares at Sigurd as if he’s personally responsible. “And I shall not go back on that decision, dragon.”
“Sigurd,” I correct her quietly, and both of them look at me in surprise. “He is a person just as you and I. He’s not defined by his form any more than you are.”
She eyes me and then nods. “Sorry,” she says and then immediately launches into another torrent of passionate words. “You may throw me into prison and shackle me, but I shall never renounce my love.”
Sigurd can barely conceal his eye roll, and I bite my lip and turn to her.
“What love?” I ask.
“Melusine met a sailor and fell in love with him, and she has been living with him here,” Sigurd enlightens me.
“The one who had her comb?” I check.
He nods and I turn back to the mermaid. “So, how did you meet him? Sorry. What is his name?”
“Robert,” she says, breathing the name as if it were made of fairy gold. “He fell from a boat out at sea near the seals. He would have drowned if I had not been there.”
“And why were you?” Sigurd asks mildly. “That is not Mer land.”
She looks out to sea rather cagily. “Oh, I was just looking around.”
His lips twitch. “And taking pearls, I warrant. Fie on you, Melusine.”
She slumps. “Oh, okay. It doesn’t hurt them.”
“The Mer have a devilish love of pearls,” Sigurd tells me. “But the best crop can be found in seal waters.”
“It’s not as if the seals need them.” She sighs. “Anyway, Robert fell. He looked so pretty, with his mouth open and his hair waving in the current.”
“He looked pretty when he was drowning?” I say, aghast. Sigurd coughs, and I add quickly, “Sorry, do go on.”
“So, I rescued him, and the moment he opened his eyes, I gave him my heart.”
“Sometimes it really doesn’t take much,” I say in what I hope is a tactful tone, but judging by Sigurd’s crooked smile, not quite managing it.
“And I love him,” she says passionately in an appeal to my dragon. “He is my soulmate. If any should know about that it would be you, Sigurd.”
Sigurd coughs, flushing, and I open my mouth to ask what she’s on about, but she sneaks a lightning-quick look at me, which I’m obviously not supposed to see, and carries on talking.
“And he loves me too. The comb was a complete accident. He picked it up to comb his hair. Such pretty hair,” she breathes.
She pauses, and Sigurd starts to laugh. “I warrant he got a shock.”
She smiles, easing at his open, warm humour as everyone else seems to do. He’s a very effective negotiator.
“You do not know him, Sigurd. He is kind, clever, and gentle, and so very far from the slyness and venality of the Mer court. He listens when I talk, and he laughs easily and hard. He is everything to me.”
I’m unexpectedly touched. “Well,” I say after a few beats of silence. “He does sound lovely.”
“I want to stay here, Sigurd,” she says defiantly. “I will not leave him.”
He looks long at her and then reaches into his pocket, producing a twenty-pound note. “Go and get us all some breakfast sandwiches, Melusine. You are still hungry, and Cary is pale with it.”
“And you’ll help?”
“Let me talk to Cary.”
She shoots me a sparkling look, suddenly filled with Mer charm. “Aye, he will side with me,” she says confidently. “Because he has a kind heart.”
Sigurd rolls his eyes. “And I suppose I am cold as ice.”
She laughs, the sound like bells on the cold morning air, and leans in, kissing his cheek. “Nay, you are our kind dragon.” She looks at me. “Many are the mornings the little Mer will swim into the cove at Pedn Vounder, and the dragon will tell us stories. He is well-loved.”
“Is he really?” I say, intrigued by the flush on Sigurd’s sharp cheekbones.
“Away, child,” he says.
She laughs again and dances towards the food truck.
“You’re going to help her, aren’t you?” I ask anxiously. “She does seem to love him.”
He grimaces but doesn’t manage to cover his soft side. “Does she, or has she convinced herself of that, because someone is kind to her and not like her cold, avaricious parents?”
I consider that and then shrug. “Does it matter?”
He cocks his head. “What do you mean?”
“Well, whether she is in love or merely thinks it, doesn’t she deserve the chance to make up her own mind?
When we lose something, it assumes a huge importance.
More than it warrants, maybe. She has the same right as everyone else to make her own mistakes.
” He seems struck dumb, staring at me. “Hello, have I broken you?” I say playfully, and he chuckles, but it sounds tense.