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“But who are you?” the king asked. “You speak of your people and you smell of salt and the sea wind, and I have never heard of a Prince Kaerius in any of the neighboring kingdoms.” His voice faded to a nearly inaudible whisper by the end of this, but Kaerius understood.

“I am the prince of the northern Mer,” Kaerius said. “My people live in all the northern waters, and my father rules from the ice in the north to the warm southern waters. I am his heir, and I wish to marry your daughter.”

The king’s fingers twitched against Kaerius’s cheek, and he murmured, “I did not know the Mer were real. How can a Mer marry a human?”

Kaerius smiled fiercely. “With joy and devotion, Your Majesty. I will love her as long as I breathe water or air, and we will rule together on land and sea, if she accepts me.”

The king said, “You may ask her, and if she accepts, I will make a treaty with your king.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Kaerius cupped the king’s hand against his cheek and turned a little, so that the king could more easily feel his smile as he bowed his head in acceptance.

Then, still kneeling, he let go of the king’s hand and turned to Marin. “Will you marry me, Marin de Gracey, to rule with me in the sea and on land, in love with each other and in service to your people and mine, for all our years?”

Marin took his hands and tugged gently, so that he rose to stand face to face with her. “I will, Kaerius.”

His heart thudded raggedly in his chest, and he trembled with joy and desire. He leaned forward and then hesitated. “Do humans kiss to show their love?” he whispered. “Lips againstlips, hearts united, with arms wrapped around each other? That is what Mer do.”

Marin laughed and kissed him full on the lips. “Yes.”

Chapter 23

By the time they had explained more to the Elerian king, it was late afternoon. Brighton had grown alarmingly pale, and when they turned toward the door, he swayed, off balance for a moment before he steadied himself.

They decided to introduce Marin to the Mer king early the following day, primarily so that Brighton could rest and be able to see whatever could be seen when he had recovered a little more.

“I should have asked the Lord of the Deep if he would heal you,” Kaerius said remorsefully. “I am sorry, Brighton. I will ask him in the morning.”

“Will he do it?” Brighton asked doubtfully.

“I doubt it.” Kaerius tilted his head to one side. “My people have no significant healing magic, but I will see what my voice can do.” So he sang of healing, rest, and comfort. He sang of courageous endurance through pain and despair, and he sang of valor and integrity, honor and virtue. He sang of the bond between friends who shed blood together and of well-earned rest and convalescence after injury. With all the power and magic of his Mer voice, he sang of strength regained and health restored.

As he sang, he and Lila helped Brighton into the guest bed in the royal suite, his voice like golden threads of hope and affection and gratitude filling the air with light. His voice grew softer as Brighton dropped into sleep.

The lines of fatigue and pain around Brighton’s mouth and at the corners of his eyes smoothed, and his breathing became slow and even.

Kaerius still sang, letting the magic of his voice do whatever it could to soothe Brighton’s pain and help him heal. He leaned against the wall and slid down it to sit with his head bowed and his eyes closed, still murmuring magic and power.

When his voice finally faded, he slumped to the side and slid down to lie on the floor, his eyes closed.

“Kaerius,” Marin whispered. When he did not respond, she called for Sir Vincent to examine him and Brighton.

The physician did not want to wake Brighton, but said he seemed as healthy as before, and he was sleeping well. Kaerius was deeply asleep, and only when Sir Vincent put smelling salts under his nose did he twitch and groan back to a groggy half-awareness.

“You might as well go to bed.” Sir Vincent and one of the servants cajoled him into standing up and staggering to the pallet of blankets where he had slept the previous night.

When Kaerius driftedup from the depths of slumber the next morning, the first thing he heard was the princess singing and playing piano. The door to the royal suite was open, and the scent of the sea came through an open window.

He stood, feeling both drained and refreshed. His head felt light and his muscles loose and ready for action. He peekedaround the corner to see Marin sitting at the piano, and for a moment he only watched and smiled.

Then, when he had the melody in mind, he joined his voice to hers, his power restrained. His voice danced and rippled below hers, pure and lovely and exuberant with the dawn.

She looked up in shock, losing her place in the music for a moment, and when he smiled at her, still singing, she lifted her voice again.

The king sat near her with his eyes closed as he listened. When Kaerius drew closer, the king rose unsteadily and turned his face toward the Mer prince.

“Is that the Mer prince?” he whispered.

Marin let her fingers slow as she said, “Yes, Father. Prince Kaerius is here.”