Page 16 of Storm and Sea (Storm and Sea Saga #1)

“ T hat’s not fair . I’ve been outside just as much as you,” Nyel complained, holding his forearm beside Atreus’s. He was pasty by comparison.

“You’re pale enough to scare off the fish,” Atreus teased as Nyel shoved him.

“Ha ha,” he deadpanned. “At least I’m not getting sunburnt anymore.”

“Way to look on the bright side, Marshmallow.”

“Are we doing nicknames? Gatto’s already got his,” Leo hollered from the deck of his boat. Atreus and Nyel unloaded his cache as the shiny new vessel bobbed along the dock.

“What does that even mean?” Nyel asked, taking the tray of squid that sometimes got caught in the nets.

“Don’t ask?—”

“It means kitty cat,” Leo called, “because Atreus is so scared of the water. It’s been years, and he still won’t get on the boat with me. I’ve stopped trying.”

Nyel exchanged a meaningful look with Atreus.

“Well, I guess I can be Gatto , too, since I won’t go anywhere near it either.”

“Aw, come on! Nothing I can do to tempt you? One loop around the bay?”

“No thanks,” Nyel said, earning an approving nod from Atreus.

Since their conversation with Nephi, he was more determined than ever to make Baia Vita his home. At least for the fishing season. After that? Nyel didn’t want to think about it. If he was going to stay, he needed to be more cautious. And if Atreus, in all his years here, had never gone on a boat, neither would he.

“I don’t want to be called Marshmallow. Even though they are delicious.”

This made the other two laugh as they finished emptying Leo’s catch. They wished him luck as he ushered the boat into the bay again. With all boats out working the bay, the pair had a moment to sort the fish before the next rush returned. They tagged the bigger catches with a handheld ‘clicker’ that punched a colored ribbon through the gills.

Nyel winced in sympathy as he stapled a heavy sea bass with Leo’s black tag. Now, even if there were a spill, this fish wouldn’t be mistakenly thrown into someone else’s catch. The smaller ones were dumped into a barrel of ice with the vessel’s name painted on the side. Nyel frowned at the scratched-out letters. Vino Rosso was no more, crossed out and painted over with the name Pesce Pagliaccio . He couldn’t read either of the names, but he knew the letters corresponded with the names of Leo’s old and new boats.

“He’s in the same boat as the rest of them,” Atreus said, following Nyel’s gaze. “No pun intended.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you’re worried about him. So am I. Everyone is fighting the same battle. There aren’t enough fish in the bay anymore.”

Nyel’s shoulders slumped. “I just worry. With the new boat and…”

And how beaten he was the night of the festival.

It’d been almost a month since the festival, and Leo’s face showed no signs of trauma. But Nyel couldn’t forget the way Leo trembled. Atreus should know, and Nyel was tempted to tell him. But true to his word, he said nothing. Leo never broached the subject again.

“We’re on week seven of the season. The catches are at a record low. It’s… It’s going to get ugly come winter. Families will either go hungry or be forced to leave.”

Atreus didn’t have to say it; Nyel could hear it in his voice. Baia Vita was on the verge of becoming a ghost town—abandoned and lifeless.

“I wish there was more we could do to help.”

“There’s nothing we can do. Right now, we need to put our heads down and work,” Atreus said, tagging a red snapper and laying it in a tray of ice.

But that wasn’t true.

There was something they could do. As Mer, there was so much they could offer this place. The idea continued to fester in Nyel’s brain long after they’d delivered the day’s catch to the pescheria and settled on the upper floor for dinner.

Nyel pushed the marinated tomatoes around his plate, his mind too busy for food. Horace was deep in another one of his war stories, in which his Mer friend Kirill infiltrated enemy lines from beneath the water. Nyel had heard this one a few times and still loved it, pushing for more details about Horace’s Mer friend with each retelling.

“He was a witty son of a bitch. Always had something smart to say.” Horace laughed, then let out a series of frightening coughs.

“That’s enough exciting stories tonight, Nonno . Let me help you to bed,” Marina offered, setting down her fork and rising.

“Thank you, Gabriella. Make sure you leave my window cracked so Niccolo can come in. I don’t know where he gets off to at night.”

The cat, usually by the old man’s side like a shadow, had recently started vanishing at night and returning in the early morning. The feline was as congenial as a well-worn blanket on a quiet evening. He never hissed or spat. Never scratched or pinned back his ears.

That was… unless a certain someone walked within ten feet of him.

Nyel was that someone.

The feline only had eyes for Horace, tolerated everyone else, and harbored a special hatred for Nyel, no matter how many fish scraps he’d offered under the table.

“ Nonno, you shouldn’t leave that window open at night,” Marina said. When the old man produced a heart-wrenching puppy face, she groaned. “Fine, okay, you win,” she relented, supporting his shaking frame out of the chair and down the hall.

When she returned, Marina and Giovanni engaged in a steady conversation about her plans for the Bayallon at the end-of-season festival. Giovanni worried that the village would be too out of spirits to get excited about the event.

“I’ll have to work extra hard to make it special!” Marina said with her usual upbeat attitude .

Atreus remained quiet, ever the wallflower. But Nyel couldn’t keep his exploding thoughts contained any longer.

“I have a question,” he blurted, making everyone pause.

“Go ahead,” Giovanni said, gesturing to him with his fork.

Nyel cleared his throat. “What if...What if there was a way to help the fishermen?”

Atreus’s fork paused halfway to his mouth as he stiffened.

“We are all ears, ragazzo ,” Giovanni said cordially. “Though I believe all avenues have been exhausted. We’ve tried everything. There is no competing with those damned ships.”

“What if there was a way to herd the fish away from the ships and into the bay? Into our fishermen’s nets?”

Nyel could practically hear the alarm bells going off in Atreus’s head, but he ignored him. This was important, and Atreus needed to hear it.

Giovanni let out a big belly laugh. “What, like sheep? I’m afraid this island doesn’t have underwater sheepdogs. Fresh out,” he joked.

But Nyel wasn’t joking.

“Let’s pretend we did, though. Do you think it would help?”

Giovanni took a sip from his wine. “I’m sure it would, ragazzo .” He smacked his lips loudly, finishing the glass. “To have a young mind like yours. I admire your creativity. It’s an interesting fantasy to consider. But I’m afraid a fantasy nevertheless.”

“Yeah, I know. I was just curious.”

He remained silent for the rest of dinner. Nyel scarcely closed the door to his room for the night when Atreus yanked it open.

“What was that? What the hell are you doing?”

“You know exactly what I’m doing. The Mer can help?—”

“Shshsh!” Atreus hissed, darting his head to the hall before closing the door. “I thought we were past this. You’re being reckless.”

“It’s not reckless. It’s a solution, Atreus. Can’t you see? We can help each other. ”

Nyel sat at the edge of his bed, crossing his legs, hoping Atreus would do the same and calm down. He didn’t.

“You’re out of your mind. It’ll ruin everything. Realizing there are sea monsters on their doorsteps will only drive the humans off the island. We’d be speeding up its end.”

“Not if the fish come back. It’s the lifeline of this place, and it’s dying. We can fix this! And we aren’t monsters, Atreus. We’re Mer. So get that out of your head.”

“Fine, we’re Mer. But to them, they’ll only see monsters. People don’t change overnight.”

“I did.”

Atreus chewed his cheek, and Nyel pressed on.

“I changed my mind about you. About halflings. All it took was for me to get to know you.”

“Fine. But you’re one person. An entire village can’t get to know me well enough to justify what I am.”

“They already do!” Nyel leaned forward, the words pulling him towards Atreus. Begging him to understand. “How can you still not see it? These people, all of them, they already love you. You’re a pinnacle of this community. They rely on you.”

Atreus shook his head, and Nyel knew he’d failed. It would take a cataclysmic event for Atreus to finally believe him, to see what only took Nyel a few weeks to see.

“It would never happen.”

“You said this island is desperate. Maybe desperate enough to accept the help of Mer?”

Atreus pinched the bridge of his nose, pacing the room. “Fine. Let’s say, by some unholy miracle, the humans accept us. You think the two of us can herd entire schools away from those ships? I hate to break it to you, but two of us swimming back and forth won’t be enough.”

“The Sireni in Corallina will help. ”

Atreus scoffed. “Sure.”

Nyel’s face turned pink with indignation. “They will. I’ll talk to them. They’re being hurt by the ships, too.”

Nyel vaguely remembered Chel’s father mentioning something about the kelp dying the day she came for dinner.

“The ships are polluting the waters. Corallina is losing crops because of them.”

“How much?” Atreus prodded.

“A—a few acres. I think. I don’t remember.” Nyel cursed himself for not paying more attention to the conversation on that fateful day. Granted, he had other things on his mind.

“A little crop damage isn’t enough for them to break age-old tradition. They won’t reveal themselves. They won’t accept a union. They can’t even accept one of their own if their scales don’t match up.”

“I’ll talk to them,” Nyel tried to sound stronger than he felt. “I promised Nephi that I’d talk to my parents about halflings. And I will. I just… need more time.”

Atreus sighed, falling into Nyel’s desk chair.

“You see how many things are against you? How many ways this idea of yours could go wrong? It can’t happen, Nyel. Drop it.”

“Against me? Not us?”

Atreus’s jaw set, and Nyel had his answer. Despite growing close, the words Atreus growled into his ear all those weeks ago were as true today as they were then. If Nyel were to get caught, Atreus wouldn’t come to his rescue. Wouldn’t risk his dwindling way of life.

Nyel dropped his chin to his chest. “Right. I’m on my own.”

“Don’t pin this on me,” Atreus said, rising to his feet again, his face growing red.

“And who am I supposed to pin it on?” Nyel retaliated, voice rising.

“I don’t care. But don’t go blaming me because I won’t follow you off a cliff. You’re telling me to jump with no wings, and I’m not buying it.”

“I’m telling you to trust me!” Nyel yelled.

The sound of a closing door in the hall startled them both.

Nyel stepped off the bed, stopping only inches from Atreus. When he spoke, it was barely above a whisper.

“I’m telling you to trust in the way these people care about you.”

Atreus’s nostrils flared, his curls flopping as he shook his head. “You’re delusional.”

“And you’re scared.”

They held each other’s stare, neither willing to break the connection first. Nyel was sure he could hear Atreus’s teeth grinding together as the muscles in his jaw bulged.

“We’re done here.”

Atreus stomped from the room without another word.

Nyel flopped onto his bed, slapping a pillow over his face and yelling.

“Atreus, you freakin idiot!” He pounded his fists on the mattress, wishing he were hitting some sense into Atreus’s thick head.

Why can’t you see it? Why can’t you see the way everyone else sees you?

Even as the words rang in his mind, a new kind of heat surged to his face—one that had nothing to do with his frustration. Coupled with the feeling of wiggling fishtails in his chest, Nyel didn’t know what to make of it—only that these feelings were growing steadier and steadier by the day.

“You’re a dummy,” Nyel whined into his feather pillow. Those angry green eyes would keep him awake for hours.

Atreus fought the urge to slam the door to his room. If he threw the wooden door as hard as he wanted, he’d topple the entire damn pescheria .

Where does he get these ideas? Mer and humans? Me?

Atreus couldn’t sit still and kept running his hands through his tangle of curls. At this rate, he wouldn’t have any hair left. Nyel was…

“Gah!” he cried out, hitting his toe on the bed frame.

“As if you have any value to begin with.”

Atreus snarled. He had nothing to say to the disembodied call in his mind. The single thread connecting him to the madness Nephi spoke of. The Skraith . Atreus didn’t fight it this time.

Because he believed it.

The moment the humans saw what he was, it wouldn’t matter that they knew him. Wouldn’t matter that they’d broken bread with him, that he’d watched their children grow and weathered storms by their side. All of that would wash away like footprints on the sand the moment his scales appeared.

They won’t allow it.

It was too much for him to comprehend, let alone accept. He thought of Giovanni. Would his face twist in disgust? Flare with rage? The idea made Atreus want to lean over his bed and vomit on the floor. That is what he stood to lose—everything.

Why can’t Nyel understand that?

In all honesty, despite the proof, Atreus still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that Nyel hadn’t left. Their secluded minutes on the beach, under the light of the fireworks, felt like a dream—something he would have imagined on those lonely nights in the lighthouse. Yet it’d happened. And Nyel saw him.

Could I get lucky enough to be accepted twice?

Atreus doubted it, and he didn’t need the voice in his head to tell him that.

Still, how did this always happen? How did he always end up fighting with Nyel? With the one person in this world that accepted him?

“You’re messing this up,” he hissed, the sound building in his throat before descending into his chest. It was like a massive serpent was coiled where his heart should be. Atreus forced calming breaths through his lungs, silencing the sound. He waited, making sure no one heard. The hiss was unnatural to humans. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d let it slip.

Man, I’m losing it.

He continued pacing.

“Keep this up, and he’ll leave for sure.”

The voice purred, excited by the idea of Atreus alone and miserable.

“I know!” he yelled in the empty room.

Atreus didn't have a clue how to navigate his feelings around Nyel. One moment, they were laughing and joking; the next, Atreus was irrationally upset whenever Nyel's attention was diverted. At times, like now, he was so frustrated with Nyel that he could hardly stand it. And this all happened within a single day.

Before Nyel showed up, his life was consistent. His days were predictable and safe. He more or less understood how to navigate the maze of human emotions. How to navigate through the lies he’d built around himself like a shield. Yet, even knowing that— Atreus couldn’t bring himself to wish Nyel was gone. In fact, the idea sank a leaden stone in his stomach.

And if he wanted the sireno to stay, he had to fix this. Soon.

“We’re closing the bay for the day. Everyone’s boats are docked. With quiet waters, hopefully, we can coax some of the fish to return.”

It was the first thing Giovanni said to him when he rose for breakfast the next morning.

“No one is going out today?” Atreus asked, dumbfounded. In all his years working the docks, he’d never seen Baia Vita halt the fishing for even a second of daylight.

“I got word from Leo. He and some of the younger men are going door to door to spread the word.”

They sat in oppressive quiet, Giovanni’s gaze so unfocused that Atreus wondered if he was seeing anything at all.

“Do you think it’ll help?” Nyel’s voice startled him as the sireno approached from behind. “ Signore Marcello?”

“Huh?” Giovanni reacted much too late. “Sorry, ragazzo . Will it help?” He exhaled loudly. “That is the question. I do not know. But what else can we do? There are simply no more fish left for us.”

“Well, I’ll just have to take the boat and go scare those big ships off now, will I?” Marina said much too loud for so early in the morning.

Giovanni pulled his daughter in for a half-hug. “That wouldn’t do my Bambani . Your beauty would only draw them nearer. ”

“Or she could start singing for them. That’d scare them off,” Nyel murmured so only Atreus could hear. Atreus choked on his eggs in his haste to stifle the sudden burst of laughter.

“What are you two idioti laughing about?” Marina glared.

“Nothing, nothing!” Nyel said, patting Atreus on the back as he choked.

There, he did it again. Somehow, even when things were grim, Nyel made him laugh.

Nobody had ever been able to do that before.

Atreus thanked Nyel and remained determined to do better—to be better—for this sireno. For this male who had the uncanny ability to make him smile all through breakfast.

With the docks closed, Atreus and Nyel had nothing to do. Marina busied herself running errands and preparing for the Bayallon. Atreus wondered what she could possibly be spending so much time on. It was a silly relay race. Yet Marina was elbow-deep in paint, banners, and other crafts whenever he saw her.

With the day free and Marina shooing them out of her ‘creative space,’ they found themselves walking aimlessly down the beach. The docks were upsettingly quiet. No tolling bells or hollering men. No ‘ Bongonrio’s ’ called in greeting. Only the gulls cawed above, and even they seemed irritated with the break in routine.

Then an idea struck him.

“Hey, do you wanna go for a swim? Maybe check on the lighthouse?” Atreus offered.

Nyel tilted his head to the side, eyebrows scrunched. “How have we never done that before?”

“Well… I was doing my best to stay out of the water in front of you,” Atreus admitted.

“Oh, right.” Nyel grabbed his wrist, dragging him to a private stretch of the beach covered with large black boulders. “There’s no need for that anymore. Let’s go for a swim. My skin’s been feeling itchy all over.”

Atreus felt it, too—the call of the sea after many days on land.

They ducked behind the black stones and, when they were sure nobody was around, kicked off their shoes. Atreus removed his shirt since his barbs would destroy anything on his back. Luckily, both their pants were altered to accommodate the tails.

Nyel dove into the water, jade scales shimmering to life as his thick, curved tail beckoned Atreus forward. “Come on!”

Atreus walked to the water’s edge but stopped suddenly as if he’d reached the end of a leash.

What if it was a fluke? What if the night was dark enough that he didn’t get a good look? What if he changes his mind?

Panic coursed through Atreus.

“Get away. Don’t show yourself.

He’ll be disgusted with you.

Half-breed.”

It didn’t just speak—it taunted , each syllable carefully chosen to unravel him further.

Atreus was convinced this was no ordinary voice. It was a demon. A curse. A punishment for his existence, a living reminder of everything that made him unworthy. The Skraith knew this, and it reveled in it, fanning the flames of his panic with every venomous word.

Atreus’s heart raced, pounding against his eardrums so forcefully it felt like they might burst, flooding his brain with blood—drowning him in the very essence that marked him as a mistake.

He couldn’t breathe; the air stuck in his lungs like sap. His vision tunneled to a single point of surf. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t …

“Atreus?” He hardly registered the tight grip on his wrist, pulling him to the present. “Atreus, breathe. It’s okay.”

A gentle hand ran up and down his spine, encouraging the blood to flow, the nerves to fire, and the lungs to expand.

“There you go. You got this.”

Another hand rested on his chest as it rose.

“Breath in. And out. In. Out.”

The gentle pressure on his chest guided his steady breathing, helping him focus on the flow of oxygen in his lungs. It took several breaths before Atreus realized the hand on his chest—and the one gliding up and down his spine—were webbed.

The smooth scales on the palm of Nyel’s hand were soft, cool to the touch, and…

Atreus could only describe it as a salve—a soothing balm for a wound split open, bleeding freely. Normally, the blind panic would have left him paralyzed for hours. Yet now, all it took was a touch—Nyel’s touch—to calm him.

“You with me?” Nyel asked, and Atreus looked at him. The sireno boy he’d met all those years ago. Jade scales. Black-tipped fins.

He’s beautiful.

Atreus cleared his throat, shaking the buzz from his head.

“Yeah. I —” He swallowed. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Here.”

With deliberate slowness, Nyel took both of Atreus’s hands in his. Human hands clasped with Mer. Nyel walked backward into the surf, taking Atreus with him, never breaking eye contact.

“I won’t think differently of you, Atreus. Not for a second.”

Atreus let himself be pulled into the surf. Marvassa washed over him, and he was Mer once more. Nyel didn’t stop walking backward until the water covered their heads, and they floated above the sand. The entire time, he never looked away.

“Your eyes are the same,” Nyel said .

Warmth spread through Atreus’s chest. He examined himself, noting the different tones of blue and purple on his body, with lighter shades of mauve flecking his fins.

“Betcha I can beat you to the island,” Nyel teased.

“Wh-what? I don’t?—”

“Ready, set GO!” Nyel yelled before Atreus finished and was off like a sailfish on the hunt.

“That’s cheating!” Atreus called, thrusting his tail and matching Nyel’s speed. By the time they reached the beach, Atreus was leagues ahead. He made a show of waiting as Nyel trudged up the sand in defeat, panting for breath.

“What took you so long?” He smirked. “I was about to take a nap while I waited.”

“Har har,” Nyel said, shaking his fins like a dog. “It would have been better if you did. I’m exhausted. And hungry.”

“There are still a few cans of sardines in the lighthouse,” Atreus offered, just to see the disgusted look on Nyel’s face.

He laughed, brushing sand from his pants, having already returned to his human form. He was refreshed, like Marvassa exfoliated layers and layers of dead skin.

“What is that?”

“What is what?” Atreus asked. His good mood dimmed when he realized what Nyel was pointing at.

“Your back, on your shoulder. I didn’t notice it earlier.”

Atreus averted his gaze and rolled said shoulder, feeling the familiar tug on his skin. “An old scar. It was a long time ago.”

That should have been it. They should have moved on. But the way Nyel watched him, scales dissipating into the skin as he dried, dark wavy hair appearing over fins, Atreus was too mesmerized to walk away. Too enraptured by Nyel’s pinched brow and the slight downturn of his mouth.

Concern for me .

“Let me see.”

Atreus should have said no. Should tell him it was none of his business. So what compelled him to turn around, giving Nyel full view of his bare back? Of the history written in his skin?

Gentle human fingertips brushed over the swollen wound below his shoulder plate—a circular scar, swollen, white, and dangerously close to his spine.

“A puncture wound,” Atreus said, his voice tight as another pass of Nyel’s fingers sent a shiver through him.

“It looks painful,” Nyel whispered.

It had been. For twenty-something Atreus, it still ached. But at thirteen—just a kid—it had been excruciating. The physical pain was one thing, but the weight of knowing who had inflicted it had cut far deeper.

He could feel Nyel’s quiet curiosity, probing for answers.

“Let’s check on the lighthouse,” he said, shrugging off the touch and climbing the beach without further comment.

Not that. I won’t talk about that.

The lighthouse lay exactly as Atreus left it over two months ago. He carefully stepped around the shards of glass, cautioning Nyel to do the same. The rusted stairs groaned like a wounded beast as they climbed. He cleared the landing and— he was thirteen again—hungry, isolated, alone.

“The way you deserve to be.”

“Doesn’t look like anyone has been here,” Nyel observed, snapping Atreus out of his childhood.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Little dusty, though.”

“It just needs some air,” Nyel offered, cracking open a few of the windows and welcoming a pleasant ocean breeze.

Atreus watched him move from window to window. A few weeks ago, the latches would have stumped him. Nyel was adapting to human ways quickly—much faster than Atreus had. It was as though he was destined to be part of their world from the beginning. Loved by both humans and Mer.

“And neither will ever love you.”

“I need to check on some things,” Atreus said, cutting off the intrusive voice. “Are you okay to hang out for a bit?”

Nyel made an affirmative noise, sitting at the window’s edge, admiring the view. Atreus busied himself by taking stock of his possessions, which, now that he’d lived so long at the pescheria , he realized was mostly old garbage. He propped the mattress on its side for some ventilation when a sharp static sound made him spin.

“Sorry,” Nyel apologized, jerking his hand away from the dial of an old transistor radio. “I thought these things made music.”

Atreus smiled. “They don’t make music, but they do play recordings.” He knelt beside the small rust-colored radio. “You have to fiddle with this dial, then this one.” Atreus tuned the radio, working through the screeching static, catching a mumbled voice here and there before an upbeat family of instruments vibrated through the speaker. He patted it. “ Voilà .”

A man’s voice boomed, his hearty base harmonizing with the instruments in a powerful vibrato. Even through the raspy radio, there was no denying that the man sang with all his soul. The words tumbled from him in a musical story of long summer days and a beautiful woman who stole his heart.

Nyel hummed along, picking up the melody. He stood abruptly, shoving his stool aside and clearing a space in the lighthouse.

“What’re you doing?” Atreus asked as his belongings were shoved against the walls .

Nyel didn’t reply until he was finished, then turned and held out a hand. “Dance with me.”

Atreus furrowed his brows. “I don’t know how.”

“Perfect. Neither do I,” Nyel said, his voice so light and easy that Atreus found himself reaching for the outstretched hand before he even realized it.

“I really don’t, though,” he repeated, clasping Nyel’s hand, unsure what to do.

“It goes like this. I think.” Nyel placed his free hand on Atreus’s opposite shoulder. “I watched the humans do it at the festival. And your hand goes here,” he added, guiding Atreus’s other hand to his waist.

Suddenly, the room felt impossibly small, as if he and Nyel were being crushed together by invisible walls. Atreus couldn’t help but notice the gentle slope of Nyel’s waist beneath his palm, even through the fabric.

He jerked away, the closeness overwhelming.

“This is stupid,” he said, stepping back, his heart hammering.

“Oh, c’mon,” Nyel begged. “I want to dance at the next festival. How am I supposed to learn without practice?”

A new tenor voice sang through the speaker, accompanied by a furious violin, making Nyel’s face light up.

“This song is perfect for it! Please, just for a minute?”

Atreus sighed, rubbing the back of his head roughly. “Ugh, fine.”

Reluctantly, he resumed his place, stepping close again, though the proximity still felt suffocating. His heart thudded in his chest as his hand found Nyel’s waist once more, the other gripping Nyel’s hand loosely. The space between them seemed nonexistent, and he was painfully aware of every point of contact.

Then came Nyel’s scent. It wasn’t the sharp, salty tang of the ocean breeze wafting through the window. No, it was something distinctly him —the soothing, clean notes of seagrass mingling with the brightness of sunlit water breaking through the surface. It filled the space between them, carrying the wildness of the open sea and something warmer, something alive. It settled over Atreus like a tide, quiet and enveloping, pulling him in deeper than he intended to go.

“Are you even listening?” Nyel said, glaring up at him with gold-flecked eyes.

“Huh?” Atreus said stupidly.

“Pay attention. Step back with your left— no right, and I’ll follow.”

They stumbled through the steps, bumping knees and stepping on toes more than once. Both kept their heads down, watching their feet and laughing each time they mixed up their rights and lefts.

“No, your left, my right!” Nyel said through a fit of laughter as they moved in what could be loosely described as dancing. And, with something akin to grace, Nyel stepped out of their two-step, twirling beneath Atreus’s arm. That was until their fingers twisted, and they clashed elbows.

Both men pulled back, sucking air through their teeth and rubbing their funny bones.

“We’re not ready for advanced moves like that yet,” Atreus said, rubbing the joint.

“I bet it looked cool. Before we hit each other, at least,” Nyel said, grimacing through the discomfort.

“We both look like complete idiots, I can guarantee,” Atreus said, then worried it came out too harsh. But Nyel laughed with a nod.

“Okay, again. I know what I did wrong.”

Atreus didn’t hesitate this time, growing more comfortable with each step. Before they knew it, the sky turned a deep shade of orange, and both of them were sweaty. But Atreus had to admit they’d improved.

“We’ll put those humans to shame at the next festival,” Nyel said, chest heaving. They’d picked up the pace as their confidence grew, their bare feet gliding on the wooden floors without a single crushed toe.

“We’ll see,” Atreus said, “let’s get some air.”

They opened one of the windows wider, stepping out onto a narrow landing that looped around the lighthouse. It wasn’t meant for people to walk on, though Atreus had been doing it for years.

Nyel let out a long sigh as the wind cooled their skin. The radio music turned to something slow, the woman’s alto voice singing powerfully in a minor melody. There was a soft ‘thump’ as Nyel closed his eyes and leaned his head against the glass.

Atreus gazed at the horizon, at Baia Vita in the distance. It was a view he’d seen hundreds of times. Now, his eyes were drawn to the sireno at his side.

His friend.

With a pang, Atreus realized that’s what Nyel was to him. The word didn’t settle right in his stomach, like that time he’d tried to eat kelp.

I need to get ahold of myself.

Still, his errant thoughts ran away with him no matter how he resisted.

Leo was a friend, Marina was a friend, Giovanni was a mentor, and Horace was an elder he respected. All those titles felt right for the people he’d assigned them to. Yet friend didn’t fit Nyel. He stared at the sireno , contemplating this. With his eyes closed, Nyel looked entirely at peace as the ocean breeze blew his hair. The dark, wavy strands danced over his forehead. For the first time, Atreus noticed how long his lashes were.

He’s beautiful like this, too.

Again, he was overwhelmed with the same stuffiness he’d felt inside the lighthouse—that suffocating feeling of being too close. Their proximity was all at once something he was too aware of. His breathing sped up .

Nyel’s arm bumped into his. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” Atreus said quickly, returning his gaze to the horizon. “We should head back.”

“Wanna race again?” Nyel offered halfheartedly.

“I don’t think it’s good for you to be humiliated twice in one day,” Atreus teased, earning a soft punch to the arm.

“You’re lucky I’m too tired because those are fighting words.”

“Next time, then.”

“Next time,” Nyel agreed.

And the certainty that there would be a next time made Atreus’s heart skip. There would be many next times—just him and Nyel. Despite the stuffy feeling he couldn’t explain, the idea didn’t bother him one bit.

“Think we could make this jump?” the sireno asked, peering over the edge.

“That’s not a good idea, Ny,” Atreus cautioned. “I’ve done it, but I’ve been here a long time, and… what’s with the face?” Atreus asked at Nyel’s odd expression.

“You called me Ny.”

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t realize. I can stop?—”

“No! I like it. Nobody has ever called me that before.”

Atreus didn’t know what to do with that information, but it made something in his stomach flip.

“Well, let’s take the stairs this time, Ny,” he added, making the sireno smile.

“Lead the way.”