Page 14

Lune had found it difficult to sleep because of his excitement. So before dawn broke, he was up, sweeping the water out of the parlor, and wiping the furniture dry. Even the fourth jewel winking out could not tank his mood, but he made a mental note to consult Narsus about it when he awoke.

The joyful tune in Lune’s heart had him humming, then singing a song he’d often hear in the village during festivals. It was a happy story about a boy making friends with coral fish. He always pretended the song was about him because it made him happy.

Cracking the eggs Narsus's friends had purchased from the neighbor down the road, Lune was getting into the tune with dancing. When he spun around and restarted the chorus, he nearly shrieked in surprise.

All three men—Narsus, Brightside, and Cinder were standing in the kitchen doorway. Staring at him. But only Brightside and Cinder’s eyes were half-mast and glazed over. Pining admiration lingered there.

“So this is a siren’s song?” Narsus asked, glancing from his entranced friends and back to him.

“Technically, no,” Lune said sheepishly. “Calico’s nudged me enough over the years, so I’m able to keep it in check. Mostly. But tones of it did slip in. It cements what I’ve been trying to tell you. That we’re Compass-matched, because you seem immune.”

“Imagine that,” Narsus said, more to himself.

Lune smirked at the puzzled look on his Intended’s face. More proof they were compatible. It was just taking Narsus a little more time to get used to the idea.

“Sooo…um.” Narsus motioned at his friends. “Shouldn’t you, uh. Undo your thing?”

Lune cursed at himself. “Shit. Right. Sorry.” Filling a glass from the faucet, he approached the duo. Dipping his fingers in, he flicked the cold water into each man’s face. He’d done this to Calico a few times over the years, so this remedy should work. “Wakey, wakey.”

Brightside was the first to speak. His disapproval was cool and brisk. “You’re a siren. We thought you were one of the more common of breed Mer-folk. Singing such a way wasn’t very nice.”

“I apologize. It comes too naturally.” Lune held up the pan of scrambles in apologies. “Eggs?”

Cinder watched the exchange with curious energy, his eyes full of good-natured forgiveness. It helped dispel Brightside’s brief show of displeasure.

“It wasn’t done on purpose, I’m sure,” Narsus defended. “I thought the singing very talented,” he said to Brightside.

“Of course you would,” the elf replied with neutral amusement.

“I agree.” Cinder collected linen serviettes from the drawer. “He didn’t do it on purpose. No harm was done. And we are uninvited guests in his home. ”

Brightside only scoffed with lukewarm upset and sat at the breakfast table. “May I have my eggs over well?”

“Of course you may,” Lune replied brightly, turning back to the stovetop.

Cinder gathered plates and forks. “Scrambled is fine for me. Oh, and Nar prefers his dry. Very dry. Poor little dehydrated proteins.”

The silence crackled so tensely, Lune turned to look. Narsus and Brightside stared at Cinder with wide, shocked expressions before looking at each other, then hiding said expressions.

“How do you know how I like my eggs?” Narsus demanded.

Cinder just shrugged and looked puzzled.

More silence.

Lune knew he had to break this weird tension. “Ah, if I may, may I see your compasses? Are there differences in designs?”

Only Cinder’s compass made a brief appearance.

It was around his neck. The phoenix lifted it into view as he salted his meal, but kept it close to his person.

Lune didn’t blame him. His own compass was a part of him.

His very self. To be parted from it was soul-crushing.

Just the thought of it made Lune check that it was still attached to his belt.

“They’re all pretty much the same on the outside.” Cinder tucked it back behind his shirt for safekeeping. “With the pattern on the shell case matching your birthmark. It’s what’s inside that counts. Inside, within the cogs and magic, is the essence of your Intended.”

Narsus seemed to be very interested in his buttered toast and wouldn’t look up.

Brightside glanced at Narsus before toying with his linen serviette.

“I lost mine when I was a child,” the elf announced.

“Our ship went down during a storm, within view of Temple Prime, thank the gods, so no one perished. I’ve hired divers over the centuries, but I fear it is gone for good. ”

“That’s terrible!” Lune cried, his hand absently gripping his compass and worrying at it. “I’m so sorry.”

Subdued, Brightside nodded cordially and nibbled at dry toast. Lune felt terrible for bringing up such painful memories. Suddenly aware of what he’d been doing, he yanked his hand off his compass. Clutching it like that in front of Brightside was unkind and rude.

“I’m…sorry,” Lune repeated, softer now. “But wouldn’t the magic preserve the compass?” he pressed. “You shouldn’t lose hope. It could still be out there. Somewhere.”

“Yes, the compass is intact,” Brightside clarified. “The magic keeps it that way—usually. I meant I’ll never see it again.”

Lune detected the grief beneath the cool and collected elf-facade. Maybe because Lune knew how much his own compass meant to him. “Once Sachin gets back, I can take the Jade Raptor out and dive for it myself.”

Narsus lifted his head, his fists tense on the table. “You have a boat? Named Jade Raptor ?”

Cinder leaned over, giving Narsus an eyebrow wiggle. “ Jade Raptor . Again, what more proof do you want?”

“ The Jade Raptor,” Lune corrected before turning to Brightside. “I can stay down indefinitely, so it’s no problem to search.”

Brightside lifted a hand, signaling Lune to contain his enthusiasm. “I apologize. It’s lost forever. It happened over three centuries ago. Perhaps washed further out or found by treasure hunters.”

“Oh.” Lune deflated.

“I have learned to live with it,” Brightside said .

Narsus slammed down his fork. It clattered loudly against his plate. “If you’ll excuse me.” He pushed back his chair and left the table.

“What?” Lune asked, confused. What had he done wrong? They’d been so agreeable yesterday and last night. Maybe he’d been too pushy with Brightside, and it upset Narsus.

Brightside too, put his fork down, but it was done with grace and care. “I’ve noticed you looking at him since we arrived. Searching for it. He doesn’t have it.”

“W-what happened to it?”

“He is the one who should relay that tale.” Brightside and Cinder pardoned themselves from the table, collecting the abandoned meals as they went. Leaving Lune to stare at the last bits of breakfast on his plate.

Narsus fell onto the sand, gripping it as it squeezed through his fists.

His heart was squeezing, too. He was far enough away from the beach house where he felt safe enough to let his feelings flood.

He knew now he’d made the biggest mistake of his life.

Terror and loss raced through him at the realization.

Why? Why had he been so rash?

Lune was giving him chance after chance. Allowed him, and his friends to stay. Given him a place to sleep. Let him into his heart. Trusted him as an Intended should. And Narsus repaid that kindness by throwing away their mate-bond where he may never find it.

He had to try and find it before it was too late. And if it was too late, and the final jewel blinked out, would there be any way to fix it? Compass study classes said no, which spurred him on faster. Tearing off his clothes, he heard the frantic shouts behind him. It was Lune.

Unable to face his Intended, Narsus shifted into his phoenix form while running further up the beach. Determined to keep his poisoned body away from the fated mate he was willing to love.

“Wait!” Lune called. “Narsus, please! Where are you going?”

He didn’t wait. He flapped his short, wide wings and took flight. He had to find it. He didn’t want to make Lune cry. He didn’t want to end up defeated and without hope like Brightside. He wanted to experience the love and life he’d been denying himself. With Lune. Before it was too late.

Three more days had passed since Narsus had left the beach house without an explanation. In those three days, three more jewels had winked out.

That made seven in total that no longer shined. Lune clutched at his compass. He was doing his best not to panic, because doing so would only make it worse.

Rising concern had him showing the compass to Brightside and Cinder. Both men went pale and stricken. They turned away without a word.

Desperate, Lune grabbed at Brightside’s sleeve.

“Please. I’ll beg if I have to. What does this mean?

It’s bad, isn’t it. If it’s so bad, why don’t I sense it?

Why doesn’t the magic guide me like it did when it pointed me to the temple?

Why are they blinking out every day? He’s been looking for his compass, hasn’t he? It’s lost, like yours is. ”

Brightside cupped his cheek to calm him, then placed a hand to his shoulder. “Yes. He’s trying to find it.”

The confirmation didn’t settle Lune any. “Why didn’t he tell me? Or let me help? Doesn’t he trust me? I thought we were coming to an understanding.”

Brightside’s grip tightened a little. “Lune, please calm down.”

“I’ll brew hot tea,” Cinder piped up, worry flashing in those orange eyes. “I brought along the special kind. It’ll help calm you.” He darted into the kitchen.

“Thank you, but I don’t want tea.” Lune extracted himself from the elf. “Or to be calm. Now’s not the time to be calm. I’m going back to the beach to wait for Narsus.”