Page 3 of Drown Me Gently (Flipped Fairytales)

The healing took moons. With painstaking care, Auren crafted her replacements.

He returned day after day, guiding her to the surface when she couldn’t reach it on her own.

And when he couldn’t stay by her side, he built her a floating sling out of salvaged driftwood and woven nets—just wide enough to cradle her body and suspend her blowhole above the waterline.

There she’d float, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, breathing shallowly but alive.

After weeks of healing, Iska swam. Fiercely. Freely. Now she could’ve gone anywhere. She had the whole sea. But instead, Iska stayed with him.

The orca bumped his chest affectionately and let out a high trill that vibrated through his ribs.

“I missed you too,” Auren murmured, brushing his fingers along her scarred side. “Ready to break a few rules?”

She responded by diving under him, letting him rest onto her back and grip the worn strap he’d stitched along her spine.

Orcas weren’t slaves. They were never haltered, not even by the Deepguard.

But Iska’s injuries made straps and leather a necessity.

That’s why Auren took extra care to ensure every movement she made was her own.

Never his command. Iska wasn’t a pet. She was an equal—fierce, proud, and untamed, with the right to choose her own tide.

And somehow, she had chosen him.

“Let’s go.”

With one powerful kick of her tail, she shot forward like a torpedo, dragging Auren through the deep.

To the forbidden shallow waters dominated by Atlantis’s number one enemy.

Humans.

The moon hung high and silver when Auren reached the human shipyard. He drew in a long breath, gills fluttering shut along his neck.

He loved this part.

The waves rocked gently, cool against his shoulders. The air carried the scent of tar, brine, rope, and fish oil—human smells. He’d trained himself to hold his breath for nearly four minutes. Longer, if he stayed still. Just enough time to poke around.

Iska swam a worried circle around him with a quiet puff of breath, chittering in warning.

“I know,” Auren murmured, running a hand down the slope of her scarred flank. “Wait here,” he said gently.

Iska whistled and vanished into the darker waters, but he knew she’d remain close enough to hear his call.

Auren swam silently, only the upper part of his head breaching the surface. The fishing boats swayed in their slips, dark silhouettes against the night-silvered water. Wooden hulls creaked. Nets hung like cobwebs. The tide lapped at barnacle-crusted stilts.

And there it was.

The Windless.

A modest cargo ship with faded paint and a crooked mast, but Auren had memorized every plank. The shape of the anchor. The missing chip on the rail. The spot by the stern where a coil of rope dangled, just within reach—and where, weeks ago, he had been seen.

By him.

Auren swam to the stern and pulled himself carefully onto the lower deck. The weight of gravity hit like a stone. Water poured from his tail and arms, soaking the wooden planks, making the deck slick beneath him. His arms felt heavy and clumsy, but he crawled well enough to peer around.

Several barrels. Some crates. A flash of copper wire near the railing. Nothing new. He frowned. He’d grab one small trinket. Something useful. Something to take apart and study and keep him occupied while?—

A sound.

A single, quiet?—

“Oh.”

Auren whipped around, heart lurching.

At the top of the stairwell to the upper deck stood a human. His human.

Elias.

Dark curls tousled from sleep, eyes heavy but wide now with recognition. Bare feet. Loose trousers. Rope-burned hands.

But the eyes were the worst of it.

Sky-colored. Piercing. Looking at Auren like he’d stepped out of a dream.

“I knew you’d come back,” Elias whispered, a slow smile touching his lips.

Auren froze. Saltwater dripped down his shoulders, glistening in the dark. He must’ve looked frightening. Foreign. Half-wild.

But Elias looked at him like he was a miracle. Auren’s heart thundered in his chest.

Then—

“Wait!”

Auren dove.

The ocean swallowed him in a rush of bubbles and instinct. His tail kicked hard, sending him spiraling into deeper water. But even as he swam, he looked back.

And saw Elias at the edge of the deck. The human pulled something from around his neck and tossed it into the water. It fluttered once before the sea claimed it.

Auren caught it.

He clung to the soaked fabric and swam quickly, his heart a mess of panic, heat, and awe.

“Oh gods. Oh gods, what did I just— Did that really just ? —”

His mind swirled in a haze of adrenaline, and he didn’t stop until Iska rose beneath him, letting him cling to her side.

Neither spoke—not in clicks, or words.

And together, they disappeared into the dark.

Back to the reef.

Back to the cave.

Back to thoughts that would not settle.

Auren was so preoccupied, so shaken, so enamored with the silk treasure in his hands that he swam headfirst into something solid upon returning to his cave. He recoiled, pushing back with a startled breath.

Ulric hovered, arms crossed, taking up more space than the small chamber could spare. The Sorcerer conjured blue flames trapped in bubbles that cast a ghostly light over everything. His tentacles fanned out, exploring the stone shelves, as though each appendage could think for itself.

Of course. Of course, he found me.

“You’re trespassing,” Auren said stiffly, even though it was his voice that cracked.

Ulric’s brow lifted. “I could say the same.”

Auren’s jaw clenched, the silk scarf still clutched tight in his fist. “You followed me.”

“I followed the gaping hole you kicked in the wall.” His gaze moved over Auren, noting the scrapes on his shoulder. “You weren’t exactly subtle.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” Auren muttered, waving his tail and swimming deeper into the cave. This was the only place that ever felt like his . Anger simmered to a rolling boil in Auren’s stomach. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“And you’re not supposed to be above the tide line,” Ulric snapped, voice slicing sharper than a bladefish’s fin. “You know the law. We don’t breach the surface. You’ve put yourself in danger. Again.”

“Spare me the lecture, old man.”

Ulric’s form darkened, and several of his tentacles flexed, muscles coiling and expanding. His presence filled the space like a rapidly rising tide. “You think this is a game? If the Queen finds out you’ve been going above?—”

“She won’t. Not unless you run to her.”

Ulric’s nostrils flared, and a few strands of his long, dark hair came loose from the whale bone clasp on the back of his head. “You think I want to? You think I enjoy playing watchdog while you go chasing sailors like a lovesick selkie?”

The words hit like a slap.

Auren turned, eyes flashing. “You don’t know what it’s like up there.”

“I don’t care what it’s like up there.”

“You should!” Auren shouted. “Because I do! Because I feel different up there, Ulric—I feel… lighter. Like I’m not just some spare prince that no one wants.”

Ulric stared at him, unmoving.

“And you,” Auren continued, voice trembling, “you’ve been chasing me back into this palace like I’m a misbehaving guppy.”

“I was ordered to protect you.”

“From what?” Auren gestured wildly. “From barnacles? From a breeze? From myself?”

“From the surface,” Ulric said. “From making the same mistakes your ancestors did. From being seen by the kind of men who would take you apart, just to watch you scream.”

“They wouldn’t?—”

“They would,” Ulric growled, drifting closer. “And they have. You think they’d be charmed by a prince with a pretty face? They’d gut you on a table and sell your bones to the highest bidder.”

Auren’s voice dropped low. “Not all humans are like that.”

Ulric shook his head, disappointed. Not in anger. Not even in disgust. But something worse.

Resignation.

Auren swam past him toward the mouth of the cave, the silk scarf gripped tight in his hands, hiding it from the Sorcerer.

He didn’t bother demanding to be alone. What would be the point?

Ulric would follow anyway. He always did.

Not because he cared. Auren wasn’t na?ve enough to believe that anymore.

But because it was his duty. His burden.

Auren’s fingers tightened around the ribbon.

“Just once,” he muttered under his breath, “I wish you’d come after me because you wanted to. But every time you do this, I can tell you don’t actually give a damn.”

Auren kicked forward, tail cutting the water in a sharp burst of speed as he fled the cave.

He didn’t wait for Ulric.

Let the old Kraken catch up, if he could.