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But when she did not breathe at the surface, he put one hand in the middle of her back and one hand on her chest and squeezed hard enough to feel her bones bending. A little water came up from her lungs, and he did it again so that more water came from her mouth. She took a hard gasp and coughed.

Then he streaked toward shore, leaving a white froth in his wake. Her hands trailed behind him limply, and her many layers of skirts dragged in the water.

The storm ended in a riotous crash of thunder and a sudden cessation of the wind, and in the stillness, he heard the rush of the waves upon the shore just ahead and the creak of wood and distant cries of men behind him.

At last he reached the little crescent of white sand nearest the harbor. He lunged onto the beach, pulling the human as gently as he could. Movement was more difficult here on land, and she flopped heavily to the sand in a tangle of dark hair and sea foam and soggy cloth.

Water dribbled from her nose and her open mouth.

He pushed on her chest again, and more water came out, but she did not breathe. He put his lips to her throat, to the sensitive place just below her jaw, and there was a pulse, but only barely.

If she would not take in air on her own, he would have to help her. He expelled the water that he needed and took in a great, burning breath of air, pinched her nose closed, and pressed his lips to hers.

Chapter 3

Kaerius did not see the princess again for nearly a month, though he went to the protected little bay every day.

Why did he want to see her again? It was not in hope of her recognition or gratitude. He expected nothing from her; she had little to offer a Mer prince. Her world was above, all hard lines and air that would not sustain Mer life. He wanted nothing from her, not even for her to see him.

Still he lurked in the water, hoping to see her, without admitting to himself that he hoped she would come. He would not speak to her if he saw her. He would not show himself.

When she came one evening at dusk to sit upon a rock near the water, he watched her from a distance. She was wrapped in a long, thick fur cloak, with the hood pulled over her hair. From a distance, she looked like a small, fuzzy lump upon the boulders tumbled at the foot of the cliff. The wind blew from the ocean toward her, and he wondered whether human senses were sharp enough to smell him at this distance. He could not smell her, for the direction of the wind was wrong.

At first, he was not even sure that it was her, but he imagined it was.

As the fading light grew dimmer, he drew closer to her, letting only his eyes and the top of his head out of the water. When the wind quieted, he tasted her scent in the breeze, and he smiled to himself. He could almost see her expression at this distance, but he did not think she could see him.

She stared out across the water without a sound for nearly an hour, and he drew still closer as the world grew darker. At last, when the world was lit only by starlight, he was only a few dozen feet away, still apparently unnoticed.

Her breath hitched, and she brushed tears from her cheeks.

Why was she crying? She had lived, after all. She appeared no worse for her ordeal.

Cautiously, he breathed the very softest line of a Mer song, an invitation to comfort and confidence. Was she afraid or grieving? Lonely? Disappointed? He added a note of courage and strength.

She could not possibly hear him, or at least not enough to understand with her conscious mind that she was hearing a sound rather than merely feeling emotions. But his song, lovely and ethereal and rich with Mer magic, soothed her. She buried her face in her hands and sat quietly, her shoulders shuddering, until she wiped the tears from her face and leaned back on her hands to stare at the sky.

Kaerius looked at her dim form and wondered what it was like to live above water. Her booted feet swung against the stone just above the little wavelets that lapped against the rough surface.

She hummed under her breath, a strange tune utterly unlike any he had heard before. After some minutes, her voice strengthened and she sang, her voice breathy and soft.

The Mer prince listened, transfixed without knowing why. The princess’s voice had no magic in it, no power of enchantment or allure, and while it might have been a lovelyvoice for a human, it did not compare to the ethereal purity of Mer song. She hit neither the ringing high notes nor the deepest lows of the Mer range, and there was a human thickness to the sound which seemed embarrassingly untalented.

Yet he did not want to swim away. Her song struck him with such vulnerable sweetness that he had no defense against it.

He wanted no defense against it.

His heart filled with wonder and awe, and he listened until she quieted, rose, and strode away across the darkened beach.

Male voices greeted her at the bottom of the cliff, and she murmured an acknowledgment.

The Mer prince listened as she and the men walked up the rocky path until the sound of their steps was lost in the sound of the salt breeze.

As often as he could,Kaerius swam to the secluded little beach and watched for the princess.

“What do you want from her?” his cousin Kali said one day. “She’s a human. She has nothing to offer you.”

Kaerius shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t want anything. I just like listening to her. That’s all.”