Chapter Ten #2
“It’s not like it’s bad that we’re different,” she said.
“It’s just a fact.” Also, a fact wasn’t necessarily the whole truth.
She thought of the way his music reminded her of the stories she liked to tell, and she pictured his expression when he played and sang—it reminded her of the way she felt when the sea crooned its song around her, the music of the wind and waves.
The sea serpent ducked under the water, then popped back up.
Marin sighed. “I’ll talk to him. After the turtles.”
Midday, Marin dropped anchor into a sandbar just off Turtle Island.
As she’d hoped, there were several sea turtles swimming lazily in the shallows.
It wasn’t a surprise—various species of sea turtles considered Galap their prime breeding ground.
The locals of the island had a myth that said the islands themselves were hatched here, from the eggs of ancient turtles.
But these particular turtles were the ones Marin was most hoping to find: silverbacked turtles, known for their silver-as-the-moon shells, their bright blue beaks, and their affability.
One legend said one of their ancestors had saved a sorcerer in danger of drowning, and she’d cast an enchantment that had been passed down from generation to generation. Whenever a human was in the water near them, silverbacked turtles would be drawn to assist.
Marin didn’t approve of a spell that compelled anyone to do anything, so she preferred the other version of the story that said a little girl had once saved a clutch of turtle eggs from a flock of seagulls and as thanks the matriarch of the silverbacked sea turtles proclaimed they’d help humans in need from then on.
Either way, they were excellent turtles.
“Ready, boys?” she called to her crew.
Ree slid down the mast with a “Wheeee!” while Dax came up from belowdecks. He’d stripped off his shirt and was in just shorts, and for an instant, Marin forgot what words were.
He wasn’t muscled like a sailor or a farmer or someone who worked outside would be, with bulk in the arms, shoulders, and thighs.
Instead, he was sleek, like a dolphin. His skin was smooth, without a single scar or blemish.
Soft purple chest hair led down to his belly button, then narrowed into an arrow-like line of soft fuzz.
She’d been aware that she’d thought he was handsome before, but she hadn’t expected to be confronted with that fact quite so definitively.
She told herself firmly that it was not at all okay for her to be noticing this so soon after she’d offended him and hadn’t yet apologized.
“Dax, when I said our lives are different—”
“They are.” He smiled at her sunnily. “You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. It’s fine.”
Narrowing her eyes, she studied his smile and tried to decide if he meant it or not.
Dax was, undoubtedly, a people pleaser. She’d watched how he’d interacted with his friends.
It had torn him apart to say no to them, even though they’d betrayed him.
“Well, I feel like I hurt you, and I’m sorry if I did.
And I’m sorry if I didn’t and am now making things awkward by apologizing for something you don’t want me to apologize for. Either way, I’m sorry.”
“Ahhh … Thanks?”
“Great.” That was more than enough emotion for one day.
“Get in the water.” As she spoke, Marin yanked off her shirt and pulled off her pants, leaving her in her underwrappings, and then she walked off the edge of the boat and dropped into the water.
It was only hip-deep, and she landed barefoot in the silky soft sand.
The chill of the water enveloped her, but she didn’t flinch.
Ree launched himself into the air by pushing with his roots. “Flying plant, ho!” He smacked into the water and abruptly sank before bobbing back up.
Marin waded to him and lifted him into the air. “You have zero self-preservation instincts, don’t you.”
“I am brave, loyal, and true,” Ree said, with a slight gurgle to his voice.
She gave him a light shake, and seawater spattered from his branches and root. “Okay, I’m going to lower you into the water, and your goal is to move your whatever-you-can-move to stay afloat.”
Behind her, she heard Dax lower himself into the water and was proud of her self-restraint in not immediately turning around to see how he looked wet.
Gently, Marin placed Ree on top of the waves.
He began to pinwheel his branches as he rose and fell with the swell of the ocean. He looked, frankly, ridiculous, like a flailing green-and-brown tumbleweed, but he wasn’t sinking.
“Good.” She watched him for a moment more. “You probably don’t need to use all your branches. Just the ones in contact with the water.”
He began to relax. A little.
“Let me know the second you get tired, especially if you start to sink,” Marin told him, and then she turned to Dax, who was watching with interest. He’d submerged up to his neck, kneeling on the sandbar.
At some point, he must have dunked himself under because his purple hair was damp and clung to his neck and shoulders.
Droplets decorated his crystal horns, and they sparkled in the sunlight.
He looked like a being out of a storybook, the kind of ethereal creature who granted wishes.
“Command me, Captain,” he said.
Marin firmly corralled her brain away from all the images that conjured up. “Um, okay, you should try floating first. On your stomach.” She demonstrated, filling her lungs and letting her legs drift up behind her.
He tried it, kicking his legs up.
Curious, a silver turtle swam closer to him. It nudged its beak against his arm. Startled, he planted his feet down in the sand again.
“Float up again, and hold on to her shell,” Marin instructed.
He looked dubiously at the turtle, but he did it.
“Now keep your legs straight and kick them, little kicks.”
She guided him through the basics, while he gripped the edge of the turtle’s shell. The turtle swam in lazy circles, propelling him around the sandbar.
Marin was fully aware she was a terrible teacher—she moved so instinctually in the water that she barely noticed she was doing it or how—but happily, the turtles were excellent swim instructors.
They poked his knees with their beaks until he straightened them, they guided his arms with their flippers, and they propped him up by swimming beneath him.
Ree, meanwhile, had climbed up on top of the shell of one of the turtles and was shouting, “Wheee!” as he zipped around the sandbar.
Leaving Dax to practice and Ree to play, Marin swam out to deeper water to join Perri.
She wondered sometimes if he was lonely, without another sea serpent to swim with.
He’d been with her for two years now. Did he have a family he missed?
Did he want a family? Was she keeping him from another life?
As she reached him, he greeted her with a happy trill and a gentle nudge of his snout.
“We seemed to have gained a crew,” Marin told him.
Perri chirped cheerfully.
“I’m glad you’re happy about it.” She wondered if she was. So far, it didn’t seem all that bad. But then, she’d opened her heart before and regretted it. I’ll be careful this time. She’d care less, then it would hurt less.
As she watched Dax and Ree swim with the turtles beneath the circling winged cat, it occurred to her it was not going to be easy to guard her heart.
As nice as it was to swim with the sea turtles, eventually Marin had to corral her crew back onto the boat and resume her job. Our job. “We have a couple days before the festival,” she told them. “That’s time to do a few deliveries, if we’re efficient about it.”
“You know,” Dax said cheerfully, as he wrung out his hair with a towel, “there’s a whole set of ballads about fake relationships that transform into true love. It’s a common trope, particularly among the lute cycles from the last decade.” He hadn’t put on a shirt yet.
“You’re going to burn, if you aren’t careful,” she told him.
He looked at her blankly.
“Your skin,” she said. “From the sun?”
“I’ve never burned before.”
“Have you ever spent days on a boat before?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she said, “There’s a lotion downstairs labeled with a picture of a sunflower. Use it everywhere that’s exposed every few hours, and maybe you won’t turn into a cooked lobster.”
He headed downstairs, and she felt her rib cage loosen.
Firmly, she told herself she was not going to imagine rubbing the lotion on him. Or him on her. He had agile hands—she’d watched him play that lute. She wondered if he and the drummer, Shiare, had ever been more than friends. Absolutely none of my business.
Dax returned, still shirtless, glistening with lotion, and carrying his three-necked lute.
Gahhhh.
Marin focused on the sails with a high degree of concentration. Yes, they were luffing a bit. She should adjust the lines to maximize the wind.
Sitting on the prow, Dax ran his fingers over the strings of the tri-lute.
He coaxed out a melody paired with a deeper harmony.
“There’s one ballad about a fake engagement that ended in a grisly murder.
Actually a lot of ballads end in a grisly murder.
On the whole, it’s a melodramatic art form.
” He switched keys and played a second melody, layered on top of the first, as if it were two singers chasing one another.
“But ninety-seven percent of ballads in the pretend-partner type, as defined by the Arne Index, end with love.” He strummed as he said the word “love,” then silenced the strings.
“Are you trying to hint at something?” Marin said testily.
This was not a conversation she wanted to have while they were both sharing the same space for an unspecified amount of time and he was shirtless.
And it was absolutely not a topic she wanted to dance around for days. Best to nip it in the bud.
“Oh no,” Dax said quickly. “I just think it’s interesting.”
She raised her eyebrows.