Chapter 14 #2
When we reached the boardwalk, the air shifted again — cooler, carrying the faint aromas of spice and citrus from the kitchen.
A handful of human and finfolk couples were scattered at the tables under wide canopies, the atmosphere relaxed, private.
We gained a few curious glances, but they tried to pretend not to notice us.
A hostess — human, with a wide smile and beautifully braided black hair — greeted us with the polite warmth of someone trained to ignore the extraordinary. “Table for two?”
“Yes,” I said before Rainse could. “Somewhere quiet, if possible.”
She led us to a table near the edge of the terrace, overlooking the lagoon. The light was golden, the sky stretching wide and endless above the sea. I sat down, half afraid the spell would break once we were seated like normal people doing normal things. But it didn’t.
Rainse watched me across the table, his expression soft but intent. “This is your idea of an experiment, isn’t it?”
“Maybe.” I picked up the menu, mostly to have something to hold. “Observation through participation.”
“Then I’m honoured to be your subject,” he said.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I replied dryly, but I couldn’t quite hide my smile.
The waitress appeared with two glasses of cold water, and I took a sip before glancing back at him. “I don’t know how this ends, Rainse. I don’t even know what happens next.”
He reached across the table, not touching me, just close enough for his fingers to rest on the wood between us. “Then let’s just start with dinner.”
"I can do that. When you eat here, do you usually choose human or finfolk food?"
"I like to mix it up. To be fair, most of the finfolk options have been humanised because of lack of ingredients. But if you're looking for a recommendation, the Tw'li fish soup is quite authentic."
"I think I've had enough fish for a while, but thank you. I feel like carbs. Lots of carbs."
He laughed softly, then his expression suddenly soured. "I'm sorry I didn't look after you properly while you were on the little island. I should have known that just fish and coconuts wasn't good enough. I should have-"
I put a finger to my lips. "What's done is done. Let's focus on the present rather than the past. As long as that in future, you only whisk me away to tropical islands if I explicitly ask for it."
"I promise," he said solemnly.
The waitress arrived to take our orders. Overwhelmed with the amount of options on the menu, I made it easy for myself and went with the chef's special vegetarian menu - mostly to avoid fish. To my surprise, Rainse only chose human dishes. Curious. Maybe he was trying to impress me.
We chatted while we waited for our starter. Inconsequential topics, yet it felt natural and cosy. As if we'd done this many times before. I liked being in his company. I was almost annoyed when our starters arrived, even though my stomach was clenching with hunger.
He didn’t touch his food at first. He just watched me, a little too intently, as if trying to memorise my features. When I caught him, he looked faintly guilty and reached for his own plate.
“I contacted the Minerva earlier,” I said after enjoying a few spoonfuls of soup. “It was really good to speak to my team.”
His gaze sharpened. “They know you’re safe?”
“Yes. And they found Hugo and Jammie.” Relief softened my voice; I hadn’t realised how much weight I’d been carrying until it eased.
“Hugo was picked up by a trawler not far from where we went down. He’s bruised, dehydrated, but alive.
Jammie was hypothermic and delirious, but recovered quickly.
The Minerva is currently docked so they could get hospital treatment.
They asked whether I'd want them to arrange transport back to the ship for me.
I didn't know what to say. I had to pretend that I couldn't quite remember how I'd got to this island.
They wouldn't have believed the truth. I didn't like lying to them, but it was the only way. "
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but stayed quiet, waiting for me to talk through the situation.
"I miss them. I miss my research. But at the same time... I don't want this adventure to end quite yet. I don't want to return to the Minerva and continue as if nothing happened, as if we..."
"As if we didn't happen," he whispered.
"Exactly. I wish you could come on board with me, but I know that's impossible. You'd become the topic of research, not the cetaceans. They said they'd be docked for another two days or so, to make sure Hugo and Jammie are fully recovered. Then they need a response."
"I would love to see you do your science. But I agree, I have to stay on this island. We are not allowed to reveal our existence to other humans."
“My research feels small now,” I admitted quietly. “Hours and hours of data about whales, tracking patterns, behavioural analysis… It all seemed so important. But after nearly drowning, I can’t stop thinking about how much I don’t know. About how much there is down there we’ve never even touched.”
“Your kind looks at the sea and sees mystery,” he said. “Mine looks and sees home. But maybe they are the same thing.”
I smiled at that. “Spoken like a poet.”
He tilted his head. “We call them song-scholars. On Finfolkaheem, every scientist learns to sing the currents before they study them. You can’t measure the ocean unless you’ve listened to it first.”
“That’s beautiful,” I said softly.
“It’s practical,” he said with a half-smile. “But I like that you think otherwise.”
For a while, we ate in comfortable silence, the soft murmur of other diners fading beneath the sound of the tide. I couldn’t remember the last time a conversation had felt so easy, so natural.
When I glanced at him again, he was already looking at me — not staring, not intense, just looking.
“I’m glad you got to speak to your people,” he said. “Even if it means you might leave.”
“I haven’t decided anything yet,” I said truthfully.
“Then I’ll hope.”
“You seem to do a lot of that,” I teased gently.
He smiled — the kind that started in his eyes. “Only since you arrived.”