Page 27

Narsus stayed at Lune’s bedside. Apologized a million times. Poured out his heart. Nothing had helped.

The damage of his misguided and regretful kisses was nearly gone. But it had been nearly the entire day. Narsus didn’t know if Lune was just healing, or in a coma. So he paced.

“You’re going to wear a hole into Calico’s throw rug.

Narsus, he’s okay.” Brightside sat calmly in a chair dragged from the parlor and into the master bedroom.

Arms crossed, the elf’s expression was one of no nonsense.

“I checked him over. The town healer checked him over. Lune’s not in distress, and he’s breathing fine. Give him time.”

“But the scales,” Narsus protested.

Brightside shrugged. “His kind are probably resistant to certain poisons. Especially given there are many sea creatures poisonous themselves.”

“But the scales,” Narsus repeated anxiously.

“He is a siren,” Brightside reminded. “Did you think that maybe your poisons woke up his shape-shifting abilities? Maybe as a defense? Because only the flesh of his human-self reacted badly. There’s no affliction to his scales.”

“What’s wrong with my scales?”

Narsus whipped around and kneeled at the bedside.

“Oh,” Lune exclaimed. “They’re thicker than my previous shift. Wow. Neat.” He was picking and poking at his partially shifted arms. “Nar, look, I can shift. Like you.”

Narsus flinched when Lune reached out to him. “Please, don’t touch me.”

“What? Why?” Lune asked, pulling back to examine himself again.

He ran fingertips across the overlapping yet neatly patterned scales.

“It’s not slimy. Huh. I wonder if siren scales have a slime coat.

Maybe it activates when I get back into the water for the first time with them.

” He glanced down. “Oh! Webbed hands now? Oh, wow. I can’t wait to try these out in the water. I wonder how far I can shift.”

When Lune said that, the webbed membrane between his fingers folded out of sight. “Oooooh,” Lune exclaimed. “I wonder…” The flaps then snapped back into existence as thick, scaly plates between the digits. Complete with claws.

“I’ll excuse myself now.” Brightside closed the door behind him to grant them privacy.

“Do you think you’re strong enough to get out of bed?” Narsus was surprised he’d kept his voice from cracking at the turmoil.

His question broke Lune from his exploration. What transpired finally sunk in. “Oh,” he said haltingly. “Narsus, I…”

Narsus clamped his teeth into his fist to keep from talking. Only motioned for Lune to stand up.

Lune moved to the edge of the mattress and tested his balance. “See? I’m fine. ”

Narsus collapsed into the chair Brightside vacated. Lune sat back on the bed and curled his bare feet against Narsus’s boots.

“I-I can’t think of anything other than your skin cracking and turning from my poison.”

“Nar. I—I think it’s like Brightside said. Your kisses made my siren-self appear, like before. I can’t think of a nicer surprise. Because look. Look at me, Nar. ”

Narsus lifted his gaze and could see only the arm Lune had nearly shoved in his face. There was a patch of fading, flaky red skin that ran right into a row of pristine metallic scales. On the other side of those scales was a continuation of that flaky red skin.

Narsus leaned back in the chair and ran his hands over his tearing eyes. “Your—Your siren form is immune to me?”

“Apparently so.” Lune’s fingers probed at his lips, assessing them. “While my human form seems to be trailing behind, but catching up. Lips are in full working order.”

“Lune, thank the gods.” Narsus heaved a breath as he fought a sob. “I’m so glad. But…but I—I need a moment to myself. Excuse me.”

Narsus vacated his chair, but found himself halted by Lune’s grip to his wrist. His husband clicked open his compass, confirming the number of jewels still lit.

Raising it up to show him, as a silent warning.

Then, “Narsus, my darling,” Lune told him before letting go.

“I understand. Take the time you need. I’ll be here. Waiting for you. Then we’ll go.”

Day eleven.

Clicking the casing of his compass shut, Lune looked across the empty bed. He was starting to get antsy over the time constraint, but he felt confident today was the day. Everything would work out.

While disappointed, he knew he couldn’t expect Narsus to just smile, and be happy now that all was well after centuries of inner turmoil. Emotions and trauma couldn’t just be turned off like a switch. It had to age and process.

Dressed and heading out to the kitchen, Lune saw that Narsus had camped out on the living room floor. He smiled slightly when he saw the sea shell on a nearby table. It warmed him that Narsus didn’t want to be parted from it. Leaving him to sleep, Lune decided to make breakfast.

He opened the pantry door and was surprised to see the beloved waffle iron on the shelf. As if it had never left. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he transferred it to the stove top to heat.

Growing up, Calico would always make waffles for him when he’d hit a crossroads, a problem with the other kids in the schoolhouse, or when he was feeling vulnerable and uncertain.

Lune wanted to do the same for Narsus. But what could he substitute for the strawberry jam—when he turned, there were two baskets of fresh strawberries and a jar of pre-mixed batter already on the counter.

A gift basket via the God of Space and Time, and another note, telling him to keep his chin up. Lune shouldn’t be startled, but he was, somewhat. Still, he knew Calico was always looking out for him.

“Thanks Dad, wherever you’ve gone,” he said aloud, and with heart. “I needed this. Narsus does too. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

There wouldn’t be time to make the jam itself. Butter would have to do. That was when Narsus slumped into the kitchen, further wrapped up in his mask, cape, hat, and gloves .

“Hungry?” Lune asked, pouring the batter into the hot mould.

That beaked mask muffled Narsus’s grumpy snarl.

“Oh, my. The coffee’s percolating for that mood. You could slice strawberries for me instead of standing there concealing that glower.”

“I’m sorry,” Narsus fidgeted with the mask. “I won’t—”

“Won’t what?” Lune interrupted gently. “Never kiss me again while I’m in human form?

Because we both know that’s just fear talking.

Narsus, we’re working all this out. See?

” Lune pointed to the skin of his unblemished arms. “Scales have receded. Not even a scar. The Compass-magic is letting me be close to you. My scales are letting you near. It’s just taking time.

Probably because we’re still incomplete. The compass—”

“Maybe I still need to give it time.”

“Our time to brood and cling to depression has run out.” Lune pulled out his compass, pointing to the circle of gemstones.

“Two days. We will find it. Today. We’re so close.

And yes, I’m feeling strong enough to go back this morning.

That partial shift was like an entire pot of coffee.

Coffee’ll clear the cobwebs.” He poured a cup and clanked it to the counter.

“You’re not a morning person, are you? Ah…

I take that stiff body language as a no. ”

Lune turned back to the stove and peeled the waffle out of the iron mold. He dabbed a healthy amount of coconut oil onto the iron ridges and dumped in more batter.

“I don’t hear you at the cutting board, slicing those strawberries,” Lune said after a moment. “We need our strength because as I mentioned last night, we have a compass to reclaim.”