Chapter Seven #2
“I have sent for a fine mirror for you,” Tristan explained. “It will be here later today. Will this do in the meantime?”
The urge to cough bowled into Austin. He twisted from Tristan, despising himself for needing to hunch, to show weakness. But he couldn’t help it. Austin rushed back to the bath, twisting the spout and thrusting his neck beneath the spray once more.
“I can’t get the sand out,” he gritted out between coughs. “It’s in my throat.”
“Ah.” Tristan’s footsteps drew near. He knelt at Austin’s side, guiding Austin’s right knee off the ground.
He resettled it on a pillow and did the same for his left.
He waited for a coughing fit to pass and brushed Austin’s hair aside to peer at his neck.
“Your skin is irritated,” he observed. “It will be easier to flush with you submerged.”
Tristan plugged the bath and gently guided Austin out of the flow of water as he adjusted the spouts.
Austin gripped the metal lip of the bath as it filled.
Tristan tugged the leather straps of his sandals and pulled them off Austin’s feet.
With a damp cloth, he wiped the remnants of sand from his ankles and calves.
Tristan switched off the spouts only when the water was at the lip of the bath.
Austin climbed shakily into it, his body displacing water over the edge.
He sat, coughing into the water. Tristan cupped his shoulders from behind and, mid-coughing fit, pushed Austin underwater.
Austin pitched backwards, balance stolen, but Tristan had already accounted for that too.
A careful hand cupped the back of his head before it could strike the tub.
In his surprise, Austin breathed in a lungful of water.
The water Austin sucked down his windpipe didn’t reach his lungs. It hit the back of his throat, dropped, then burst through the wounds in his neck. The force of the expelled water ripped the sand that had been driving him nuts out of his skin, and out of his body.
The itchy feeling subsided immediately. Relief flooded Austin’s body as he took in a deep breath, and his body got the oxygen it needed without having to fight for it.
Austin lingered in the relief for several minutes before opening his eyes.
It startled him to find his head was underwater, that he wasn’t breathing air.
Austin brushed his fingers against Tristan’s arm, and the merman guided him up. Austin felt hollowed out and weightless and simply sat there for several minutes. “Mirror,” he eventually managed.
Tristan fetched it. He knelt next to the bath, angling the silver plate towards Austin’s neck. “A proper one is on the way,” he promised.
The metal was polished well enough to reflect him clearly, only warping Austin’s face slightly around the curved edges.
Austin lifted his chin. The two cuts were bloodless slits, running just beneath the soft underside of his throat.
Each shallow breath fluttered their edges, revealing pale pink flesh inside.
A dusting of silver scales shone around them, blending with his skin.
“Show me yours.” Austin looked pointedly at Tristan’s neck.
A minute of silence passed. Tristan tensed and did not obey.
Just as Austin’s top lip peeled back, Tristan’s head tilted to the side in apology. “I don’t have the finesse control for that,” he admitted. “I must be one or the other. It has always been that way for me.”
Austin gazed into Tristan’s eyes, where a blue iris was ringed by merman dark blue instead of human white.
“Apart from my eyes,” he amended.
Austin pushed the silver plate away and rose shakily to his feet. “We’ll go to the ocean then.”
Tristan offered a hand as Austin stepped out of the bath, his firm grip steadying him. He felt shaky, unsettled in his own skin. The adrenaline had gone, leaving only the drop after. Perhaps that drop was the only thing holding the panic at bay.
Tristan cleared his throat in an odd way. “The temperature was acceptable?”
At Austin’s blank look, Tristan glanced toward the bath.
“Yes, it was fine.”
A satisfied expression flitted across Tristan’s face.
Austin let himself be aware of Tristan’s fingers grasping his elbow.
The touch was steadying, sure, and very warm.
Exceptionally gentle, given what he’d witnessed today in the training pit.
The frigid water Tristan had tried to dump Austin into yesterday floated to the forefront of his mind. What he’d seen today explained it.
They walked slowly down the large shoreline towards the ocean, Austin’s sore muscles objecting to any faster movement. Tristan made no remark on the lethargic pace.
“You take cold baths after training in the heat?”
Tristan nodded. “My brother and I are from the north, where the ocean and air are far colder than here. I have been here many years, but I still find the heat uncomfortable. These southern merfolk say the opposite, of course, and complain about the cold when they visit the northern seas. Yet those northern seas raise far stronger merfolk.”
Austin cocked his head at that remark, peering up at Tristan with new interest. His shoulders were very broad, his chest visibly muscular beneath his plain shirt. “Are you just saying that to boost your own ego?”
Tristan smiled. “I chased all the last monarch’s court from these lands, did I not? Even when they banded against me. Why a northern monarch chose to assemble a court of southern merfolk is beyond me.”
They stepped into the ocean, advancing steadily into the waves. Tristan was still holding Austin’s elbow.
“What about Bee and Dew? And Goldilocks?”
“Southerners. Goldilocks kept to his own territory when I came, and my brother has an amicable relationship with him. Bee and Dew are descendants of the court I chased away, but they were not part of it. They do not cause enough trouble to bother with them.” Tristan waved a dismissive hand.
“I will not have them in my court, for obvious reasons.”
Austin’s delight sharpened. He was supremely pleased to hear someone else disliked the stupid mermen.
He finally pulled from Tristan’s grip and hummed, sinking neck-deep into the water and kicking backwards to keep pace with Tristan’s walk.
When it proved slightly too fast, he reached out and set his hand on Tristan’s firm abdomen to get pulled along.
Tristan looked at that hand, muscles flexing beneath Austin’s fingers. His eyes flitted sideways to meet Austin’s.
Austin felt the right thing to do was smile.
“And Adonis?”
“Southern born, given the family line but…” Tristan waved a distracted hand down the coastline. He was staring at Austin’s mouth. “Northern-raised in some capacity. He outgrew the strength of his family line tenfold.”
“Are you stronger than him?” Austin pressed.
Tristan met his eyes. There was no hesitation. “Yes.”