Page 20 of Storm and Sea (Storm and Sea Saga #1)

“ R emind me again why we can’t do this when the sun rises?” Atreus complained for the tenth time, smacking the torch against his palm until the bulb came back to life. It was a moonless night, and without the flashlight, Marina couldn’t see her own hand in front of her face. The group paused, waiting for the beam to return before continuing.

“I want the kids to be surprised.” Marina rolled her eyes even though none of them could see it. “Obviously. ”

“And they wouldn’t be surprised if we did this during the day?” Atreus’s voice grumbled in the dark somewhere to her right.

“Where is the fun in that? They will see us putting up the flags, and all the mystery will be gone. It’s like Babbo Natale on Christmas morning.”

More curses flew as the flashlight sputtered.

“What is Babbo Natale ?” Nyel whispered somewhere lower on the path.

“I’ll tell you later,” Atreus hissed. “And why do we need this stupid thing anyway? I can see just fine.” He finally smacked the torch back to life and handed it to Nyel.

“Um, because it’s pitch black, Atty. We don’t all have cat vision like you.”

She thought she heard something like, “Don’t call me that,” but then again, maybe she didn’t. They resumed their hike, the steep path doing a number on Marina’s calves.

“Are you sure you aren’t being too harsh on them?” Nyel asked as they climbed the hill, all three of them breathing hard. The hill crested high over the bay before dropping into the valley of private properties. At its peak stood an old windmill that groaned as the rotors spun in creaking circles.

“This is the course for the older kids. They can handle it. You’re just out of shape and kind of a crybaby,” Marina said, skipping to prove her point.

Nyel mumbled something along the lines of, ‘You’re a crybaby’ before she rounded on him.

“Are we going to complain or finish this? And lower the light! Jeez.”

“Sorry,” Nyel said, lowering the beam.

Nyel and Atreus were kind enough to volunteer their time to help Marina set up the course for the Bayallon.

Which was the day after next .

And, maybe volunteered was the wrong word. Marina might have pestered Atreus until he finally caved to her will. She was very persuasive.

“You could have just asked for help,” Atreus said as they climbed. “I would have said yes. You didn’t have to barge into my room in the middle of the night like a squawking seabird—ow!” he yelped as Nyel silenced him with a stomp on the toes.

“Thank you, Nyel, for defending my honor,” Marina said, smiling to herself.

Even she had to admit, her morning wake-up call had been one of her better performances. She really hit those high notes like a professional. Maybe she should try musical theater? She hummed her made-up tune.

The Bayallon’s a comin’,

The Bayallon’s a comin’,

Oh, won’t you help me, please?

I’m begging on my knees,

The Bayallon’s a comin’ and I need some voluntee’s

The Bayallon’s a comin’,

Oh yeah

Ooooooh yeah

“I heard you the first time!” Atreus yelled, rubbing the side of his head. “Again, you could have just asked.”

“Yes, but you are missing the key ingredient in my plan.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Marina twirled until she faced Atreus and booped him on the nose. “My way was ten times more fun.”

“I liked your song,” Nyel laughed as they climbed the hill.

“Thank you!” Marina said with an exaggerated huff.

She heard a grumbled “Suck up” from Atreus.

They placed different colored markers at key points along the course. The oldest kids would follow the red flags, which they now carried up the hill. Or rather, Atreus carried the heavy box, Nyel held the light, and she tied red flags to fence posts, trees, and anything they could use as a landmark.

“I can’t believe the festival is tomorrow night. It feels like the summer barely started,” Nyel commented, aiming the light at a branch.

“Yeah. Feels too soon.” Atreus agreed, and the melancholy in their voices made Marina’s heart squeeze.

The docks were not a happy place to work. As the remaining days in the season dwindled to single digits, the people of Baia Vita resigned themselves to the prospect of another harsh winter. Catches were scarce, and Marina’s stomach tightened every time she passed the empty shelves in the pescheria , where tubs of melting ice sat by the door.

But she wasn’t about to let their sodden situation ruin the event she’d been preparing all summer. No. This was the end-of-season festival; this was the Bayallon! It was time for the town to rally behind their kids in a day of sportsmanship and fun—none of this messy depressy stuff.

“I don’t have the energy for your whining.”

“I’ll be at the studio, don’t wait for me.”

“I can’t stand your sulking.”

Marina’s breath caught in her throat, choking on her mother’s words as they echoed through time.

“There’s my happy girl.”

“I oh-so-love it when you smile.”

“Come here, my sunflower.”

Marina stretched her lips, lifting her cheeks until her eyes squinted ever so slightly. Her fingers brushed against her dimples, confirming by touch alone that this was the right smile—the one she could summon on demand. The one she’d spent hours perfecting in front of the mirror. The one her mother wanted to see .

I’ll be the happy one. I’ll be the sunshine. I’ll be what Mom needs.

Marina shook herself, snapping out of the memory. She clapped her hands loudly.

“C’mon, you two! No moping! Where is that energy!?” She made a yipping sound, pumping her fist into the air.

“It’s too early for energy.”

“It’s called manifesting, Atty.”

“Manifesting can happen when the sun is up. And I told you not to call me that.”

“I tOLd YoU nOt To CalL mE tHaT,” Marina mimicked. “And when will you call me Rina?”

“When Niccolo grows wings and flies.”

“I’ll have to arrange a meeting with the seagulls then,” Marina replied.

This earned her two strained smiles as both boys half-laughed.

I’ll take it, she thought, trying to infect the boys with her positive attitude. However forced. It usually worked, but this morning, they were a special type of droll.

“So what do you boys plan on doing after the season is over?”

When she was met with nothing but the sound of leaves rustling in the night wind, Marina turned to find them exchanging a glance. “Wrong question?” she asked, cursing herself. She’d done it again, stepped on an invisible nerve.

“No, I just haven’t figured it out yet,” Nyel confessed.

“Will you stay with family like Atty does?”

“I’m not sure,” Nyel said, avoiding her gaze. “What about you?”

“I have one more term of school before I graduate. Then I can stay in Baia Vita year-round.”

She couldn’t wait to be done; no more heartless dorms with heartless roommates—just her, the sea, and the people she loved.

“Is school where they teach you to read and stuff?” Nyel asked .

“Yep. I’m lucky that my mama left me some money so I could go. Not many of us from the island do.”

“Yeah. That’s really cool,” he said, and she didn’t miss the longing in his voice.

“You know, there is a program to help people learn the basics. If you’re interested.”

“What do you mean?”

Marina waved a hand. “Basic stuff. Reading, writing, and math. Some science. It’s just surface-level material. It’s only one term, but that’s plenty of time to give you a foundation.”

“Is it expensive?”

“Not as expensive as going full-time like I do.” Realizing she sounded pretentious, she added, “The country is trying to increase its literate population, so they’re making this program more available for everyone. I think it’s great!”

“But let me guess, it’s on the mainland,” Atreus chimed in.

“Well yeah, that’s where I go to school,” Marina said matter-of-factly and, once again, somehow managed to say something wrong as Nyel’s shoulders drooped.

“That’s too bad,” he said miserably.

“You don’t want to see the mainland someday?” Marina asked. Given Nyel’s curious nature, she was sure he’d enjoy the adventure.

“It’s not in the tides for me.” Nyel finished tying a flag. “How many more of these?”

“Not too many. We’re almost at the top.”

They reached the peak, and Marina had to admit it was a tough climb. Sweat trickled down her back and under her boobs. She leaned heavily against the water well, lifting the hem of her shirt to wipe her brow.

“C’mon, I’m right here!” Atreus yelled, shielding his eyes with one hand and turning away .

Marina dropped her shirt. “Oh, don’t be such a baby. They’re just boobs.”

“No, they’re your boobs, which is ten times worse,” Atreus said, his face still turned in self-defense.

“What’s wrong with my boobs? I think they’re rather nice. Nyel, are my boobs weird?”

“Don’t ask him that!” Atreus yelled, and Marina snorted a laugh.

“Can we not talk about—you know— that ?” Nyel’s timid voice interjected, and just from the sound of it, Marina knew he was beet red.

“Yes, please. New subject,” Atreus begged. “Marina, why are we here?”

“We’ll set up a water station here. Can’t have those kids passing out from dehydration.”

“And you thought the top of the hill was a good spot for it?” he complained, setting down the now empty bin of red flags.

“Would you rather carry gallons of water up the hill? I didn’t think so,” she said, squeezing the handle attached to the well. “All we have to do is make sure this puppy works, and we’re done here. Nyel, can you shine the light?”

Nyel did before pointing the beam down the black hole. The light never reached the bottom.

“How deep is this thing?”

Marina shrugged. “Don’t know. Wanna jump in and see?”

“No, I think I’ll pass,” Nyel said, taking several cautionary steps backward. “I’ll hold the light from here, thank you very much.” He stood a few paces downhill.

“You’re no fun,” she whined and gripped the handle.

As it turned, the gears squeaked in protest. It hadn’t been used in some time, but that was precisely why Marina needed to make sure it worked .

“Little help?” she asked after only managing a couple of rotations.

Atreus took over, managing the crank easily. Soon, a smooth wooden bucket came into view, brimming with crystal-clear water.

“Is it safe to drink?” Nyel asked.

“Of course it is. The farmers in the valley use this well every day. That is, they used to.”

Marina missed the farms and the families who left when the land was sold. The imported produce from the mainland didn’t taste as good as the crops grown in Baia Vita’s soil. Now, the rows of vegetables and fruit trees were gone, replaced by luxury mansions and gated grounds.

She scooped a handful of water and brought it to her lips, enjoying the crisp, clear liquid. At least the water was the same.

“It’s perfect. Try it!”

She lifted the bucket, but the old wire handle snapped in her grip. Marina fumbled, the weight throwing her off balance, the bucket slipping from her grasp.

Nyel yelled as ice-cold well water soaked him from head to toe. The flashlight cracked to the ground, the bulb sputtering out. They were thrown into pitch blackness, leaving only the sound of the wooden bucket rolling down the hill.

“Shoot, Nyel, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Where is the damn light!?”

Marina grappled for the torch, her hands searching cobblestone until the metal cylinder rolled into her palm. She smacked it, clicking the button several times before the light returned.

“It didn’t hit your head, did it?—?”

The words died in her mouth as Marina lifted her gaze to Nyel.

No.

Not Nyel.

Illuminated by the yellow beam, the creature that stood before her was unmistakably not her friend. It was green with scales and fins covering its skin. Its eyes were slitted, and talons lifted in the air in panic. The exact gesture Nyel had made moments ago. It even wore Nyel’s clothes, except now a thick tail swept across the ground, swishing in the leaves.

“I…I…” Marina stuttered, both too afraid and too utterly shocked to move. The light trembled in her hand, and she was suddenly terrified of being left in the dark with this thing.

Bits of Nonno’s stories echoed from somewhere in her brain as she searched for an explanation. His stories about the man who transformed in the water. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t.

But no matter how hard she denied it, Marina knew what this creature was. She lifted a shaking finger, pointing at its chest.

“Uomo del Mare.”

The bucket tumbled through the air in a drawn-out, surreal sequence, and by the time Atreus’s brain registered what was happening, it was already too late. His useless hands grasped the air as the bucket fell. The water splashed Nyel, soaking into his hair and clothes, and within milliseconds, Marvassa had him.

The light died, and Atreus begged for it to be broken. He scrambled for it, ready to throw it into the trees, but Marina got there first.

“Shoot, Nyel, I’m so sorry; it didn’t hit your head, did it?”

He should have grabbed her. Forced her face to the ground. Kick the torch from her hands—anything to prevent it. But Atreus’s feet were trapped in cement.

“I…I…” Marina stuttered, all color draining from her face in an instant.

Atreus locked eyes with Nyel. His pupils were paper-thin slits—fear emanating from every cell in his body.

Yet…

The color of those eyes remained the same, the golden flecks ever present in the beam of the artificial light.

He’d warned Nyel of this. He’d told Nyel this could happen. But months of living so comfortably weakened his guard. Atreus had been too complacent. Too carefree. And had enjoyed Nyel’s company far too much. And now, he was paying the price.

For a second, Atreus was tempted to point along with Marina and cry out in alarm—anything to save his place, anything to save the life he’d built.

It’s not too late. I can fix this.

But the words died in his throat. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t betray this sireno . Couldn’t turn his back on someone he’d only met a few months ago—someone who became a pillar in his life without Atreus even realizing it.

He stepped toward Nyel, prepared to stand by him, defend him, and, if needed, go down with him.

But those honey-brown eyes locked with his, stopping him midstep. They widened slightly, and with the faintest shake of his head, Nyel sent a clear message.

Don’t .

Atreus snapped to action, pulling Marina to him in a protective stance.

“Get out of here!” he shouted at the monster, at his friend. “Go back to the sea where you belong!”

He hoped the pleading in his eyes was enough to tell Nyel that he didn’t mean a word of it. Nyel dashed into the trees, his tail dragging in the undergrowth as he disappeared in the dark. With any luck, he wouldn’t run into any more humans until he dried. Atreus gripped Marina, who had gone weak at the knees.

“Get up. We have to get home. Don’t say a word,” he breathed, guiding her to her feet. He didn’t have to say it, though. Marina was in shock, and during the entire walk home she only managed to look more pale. The cool blue of early sunrise brought no relief as they marched down the hill in terrified silence.

Once they were in the pescheria , Atreus was glad to find the house empty, with Giovanni and Horace likely on the first floor opening the shop. He ushered Marina to his room, closing the door behind him.

He set her on the edge of the bed, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Can I bring you some water?”

She said nothing, which was even more terrifying coming from her.

“Marina, talk to me.”

Her hazel eyes were wide, and she wasn’t blinking enough. He shook her.

“Hey. Stay with me. You’re okay. We’re home.”

“What was that, Atty?”

“It…” Atreus couldn’t finish. The lie he’d so easily committed to for almost a decade stuck like tar in his mouth. He didn’t want to live like this anymore—in the dark, completely on guard.

And now… without Nyel.

Because unless the truth came out, the life he and Nyel had shared this summer was gone.

“Let me get you that water,” Atreus said, needing a moment to compose himself.

What would he say to her? Would he ask her to keep it a secret? Would he lie outright? Would he gaslight her into believing it was all in her head? The options played before him as he filled a glass from the tap and returned to her.

“Here, drink.”

She took it but didn’t bring it to her lips. He sighed and pulled up a chair to sit across from her. He knew what he had to do, and his heart already hurt from the loss.

He’d miss this.

Atreus took the glass from her hands and set it on the nightstand, scooting forward until their knees almost touched. He took both her hands in his, squeezing them and placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

“Marina, you know I care about you, right?”

She nodded.

“You know I’d go through hell and high water for you? Right?”

She nodded again.

“You’re,” he fumbled; he wasn’t good at this. “You and I both know I see you as more than just a friend.” Realizing, he quickly added, “Not in a weird romantic way. No offense, but- ew.”

Finally, she laughed, though it sounded a bit hysterical. “Gee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean,” Atreus said, trying to refocus, “It’s more like?—”

“Family,” she said so quietly he almost missed it.

“Yeah. Like that.”

His heart hurt so much. He wanted to go back to this morning. He wanted everything to go back to the way it was supposed to be.

“And you know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or Giovanni or Horace or?—”

“What are you trying to say, Atty?” she clutched his fingers.

He let out a defeated sigh. He was hopeless. Better to show her.

With deliberate slowness, Atreus took the glasses from the nightstand, and with one hand still clasped in both of hers, he tipped it. Marvassa took him, and a second later, Marian held a much larger, webbed, and taloned hand between hers.

She stiffened, turning to stone before his eyes.

“It’s still me,” he whispered and couldn’t help the plea in his voice.

She didn’t respond.

“It’s always been me. I just… never let you see it.”

She nodded again, and he worried she wasn’t breathing.

They sat so long that Atreus’s hand dripped dry. About a minute later, his human hand rested between hers once more. But her posture didn’t relax.

“So Nonno’s stories…” she mumbled.

Atreus nodded. “All true. Probably,” he said with a half-hearted grin. “The old man likes his stories.”

She didn’t smile back.

“After the World War, Mer decided it was for the best to stay hidden,” Atreus explained.

“There are more?”

Atreus nodded. “Yes. An entire village in the bay. That is where Nyel is from.”

Now, she was blinking too much—processing, letting the truth sink in.

“Where are you from?”

“I’m complicated,” he said, deciding it wasn’t time to share his sob story.

“And you eat…”

Only then did Marina’s fears truly dawn on him. Of course, she’d heard the stories—not the ones Horace told at the dinner table, but the ones whispered in the bars. The cautionary tales told by sailors. Legends and myths. Places where facts and fiction swam together in a tapestry of truths and lies. She was scared. She had every right to be .

“Fish, Marina. We eat fish. Actually, only me. Nyel and all the Mer in the bay are plant eaters only. I swear. You’ve seen the way Nyel picks all the meat out of his food.”

She nodded, though it was automatic.

“Marina,” Atreus squeezed her shaking hands. “You have the right to ask me anything right now.”

She swallowed hard but remained silent. It was so uncharacteristic of her that the hairs on his arms raised.

“If everyone knew—I couldn’t stay here. I’d have to go, and so would Nyel,” Atreus begged.

“So… nobody else knows.”

“Only you.”

Marina yanked her hands back, unable to bear touching him any longer. It was sudden, and her eyes widened as if she had only now realized what kind of monster sat in the room.

Atreus’s chest fell.

“Atreus, I— I need some time. To think.”

Or time to alert everyone else.

“Of course. Nyel and I will crash somewhere for a few days. We’ll come back to help with the Bayallon. Tell your dad we had some urgent news from family or something.”

She nodded. “Sure.”

With nothing left to say, Atreus stood to leave.

Marina’s tear-filled words stopped him. “Would you have told me eventually?”

Atreus said nothing as he looked at the human he’d come to cherish.

Marina took a shaky breath. “Would you have told me? If Nyel didn’t get wet and I didn’t see anything, would you have told me someday?”

Atreus knew the answer, and guilt ate away at him as he said it. “No. ”

Marina nodded like she’d expected his answer. “Right.”

“I’ll see you later, Marina.” He forced a smile and stepped out of the room, out of the pescheria , hoping it wouldn’t be the last time. His heart sank when he realized that Marina had called him by his proper name.

Atreus never thought he’d wish to hear that awful nickname again. But as his feet sank into the white sandy beach, he wanted nothing more than for Marina to call him Atty.

Nyel paced the lighthouse’s circular room, back and forth, his bare feet taking him nowhere. He’d run his hands through his hair so many times it was a miracle it hadn’t fallen out. Alternate realities played on repeat in his mind. He should have been paying more attention, watching more carefully to avoid the spill— knowing Marina was an incurable clutz.

Shouldn’t have stood so close.

Should’ve.

Could’ve.

Would’ve.

All the things he wished he’d done differently ran through his mind with no other purpose except to torture him.

I’ve messed everything up. I’ve ruined everything. And Atreus…

It was only a second, but Nyel saw it. A step forward, Atreus coming to take his side. It warmed him, the feeling almost enough to drive away the raging panic in his chest.

Almost.

He was about to give up everything for me.

But even as much as Nyel wanted Atreus to run to his side, he couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let Atreus throw away everything he’d built. Signaling for Atreus to stay back was the right call.

Still…

Now, he was alone. Now, he’d have to face this reality by himself. Options played out before him like one of those moving picture things that played on the TV.

He could return to Corallina, back to his old life, where his mother would likely revert to her old ways, and by this time next year, he’d be Bonded to a nice sirena with a baby on the way.

He could live in the lighthouse. He’d be alone, with no friends and no work, nothing to keep him going. Would Atreus visit him?

Maybe he could find a new human town? But that was too risky. The only reason he’d made it so long in Baia Vita was Atreus’s help. He had no chance of carving out an existence for himself in a different human village. Plus, he doubted there were many human villages like Baia Vita.

All options left him paralyzed and anxious.

“What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?” He tugged his hair uselessly.

As the hour-long minutes ticked by, regret sank in his stomach. He began to wish he’d let Atreus take his side, even if it made him a terrible person.

Nyel startled when groaning metal echoed up the staircase. He couldn’t remember falling asleep. As the clanging steps grew closer, he huddled under the blankets, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t see him. With the black-out curtains drawn, it was dark inside the tower despite it being only midday. The door opened. All was silent.

“Ny? Ny, are you up here?”

“Atreus!” Nyel sprang from his hiding place and wrapped his arms around Atreus’s middle, burying his face in his chest. “Atreus, I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot. I tried, but I?—”

“Hey, hey, it’s not your fault,” Atreus said, holding Nyel close and rubbing slow circles on his back.

Nyel didn’t know when he’d started crying, but it was like all the nervous energy he’d paced into the floors was leaking out of his eyes.

“It was an accident, Nyel. Nobody’s fault.”

“You managed to go years without an accident. And here I go, messing everything up after a few months.”

“I’ve been lucky. And I talked with Marina. I showed her what I was. She saw it, Ny.”

Nyel leaned back but couldn’t see Atreus’s face in the dark.

“W-why would you do that!?”

“Ny, it’s?—”

“She saw you?”

“Let’s get a fire going and talk, alright?”

Nyel wanted to argue, but the way Atreus’s hand pressed against his back, guiding him to the fire pit, made the words die before they could fully form.

Somehow, Atreus managed to start a fire in the pitch blackness, little cinders casting their space in orange light. Watching the embers grow from a dim sparkle to filling the hearth did wonders to calm Nyel’s strained nerves. He inhaled the scent of burning wood, letting the occasional pop of sparks crack away the tension in his spine .

“You’re really good at that,” Nyel complimented, sitting close to the bowl of dancing heat with his knees tucked to his chest and hands outstretched.

“Been doing it a long time,” Atreus said, tossing more sticks. “There’s enough wood in here for a few days.”

Nyel inhaled a deep breath, the question coming out on a sigh. “Why did you show her? I?—”

I protected you from that.

Atreus took a minute to answer. “Watching you run off, as I shouted at you like you were some kind of mon—” He swallowed hard. “It didn’t feel right. It only took a walk down the hill for me to realize I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. So I did what needed to be done.”

Warmth swelled in Nyel’s chest even as he knew it shouldn’t.

“How did she take it?”

Atreus threw in another log, harsher than necessary, sending up a flock of sparks like frightened seabirds on the beach. “About as well as you can imagine. But she didn’t attack me, so I guess that’s something.”

His voice was laced with vinegar. The same bitterness coated Nyel’s mouth. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore, but there was no getting around it.

“How did you find me?”

“Figured there were limited places you would go. I searched the stony beach first. This was my second guess. If you weren’t here, I was gonna check your house in Corallina.” He tapped his nose. “I can’t do the scent thing like you can.”

“How long do we have to stay here?” Nyel asked, already missing his bed. His room.

My home.

“I told Marina we’d still be there to help with the Bayallon. Thought she could use a couple of days to process. ”

“That’s fair.”

The unspoken question fermented on his tongue, turning more acidic by the second. When he could no longer stand its bitter lemon-rind taste, Nyel whispered as if the words themselves might sting.

“Will she tell anyone?”

“I— I don’t think so.”

“That’s not reassuring, Atreus.”

“What do you want me to say?” he snapped, “It’s not like I’ve done this before. And I hate to break it to you, but you scared her half to death.”

Nyel shrunk back. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“No.” Atreus groaned. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped. It’s not your fault. It was an accident.”

But that didn’t stop Nyel’s gut from twisting with guilt. This was his fault.

“I have no clue what she’ll do,” Atreus said honestly. “And that scares the shit out of me.”

He poked at the fire, his posture relaxed despite everything.

“You’re actually taking this better than I expected,” Nyel said as his eyes followed the embers. It was midday, and there was no need for the fire. But it was something to do. And they desperately needed a distraction.

He thought Atreus would turn into a ballistic mess the moment their secret was out.

Maybe this is the calm before the storm.

The taller man shrugged, sitting beside Nyel and resting his elbow on a bent knee.

“Maybe it hasn’t sunk in yet. But I don’t regret anything.”

“You could have stayed hidden. You didn’t have to tell Marina about yourself. When I got splashed, it looked like…” Nyel shifted un comfortably. “Well, for a second, it looked like you were going to take my side.”

“I was.”

“Why? Not that it mattered; you outed yourself right after, anyway. But why? You told me when I first came to the island that?—”

“You were on your own?” Atreus finished, poking the fire with a stick, sending up another flurry of sparks.

“Yeah. Before, well, everything, I thought you’d—” Nyel chewed the inside of his cheek, unsure of how to continue. Sharks, he was bad at this. Why was talking to Atreus about this so freakin’ hard?

Atreus paused his poking, letting the edge of the stick burn. The orange glow reflected in his abalone eyes.

“We weren’t friends before.”

The warmth now filling Nyel’s chest had nothing to do with the fire. “Thank you,” he said, but it felt inadequate for what Atreus just gave him.

Nyel hugged his knees, letting himself get lost in the dancing flames and thinking about the days ahead. He’d been looking forward to the end-of-season festival since the first one. But would it feel the same now? Would Marina keep their secret?

Nyel was so consumed by his tempestuous thoughts that he didn’t notice the day slipping away. He hadn’t had a bite to eat but couldn’t bring himself to feel hungry. It was late now, and Atreus hadn’t spoken a word for hours.

If Nyel were on his comfy mattress at the pescheria , he’d be asleep already, probably with a full belly. But too many scenarios raced through his mind to allow for that. Atreus leaned on one arm, similarly lost in thought.

What’s going through his head? Is he angry? Regretful? Does he want me to leave ?

But asking any of those questions would only make things worse. So he settled on simply watching the man beside him.

Nyel’s gaze trailed over the sun-bleached strands hidden in Atreus’s curls, tracing down his neck to his prominent Adam’s apple. His freckles were more pronounced along his neck and shoulders. While his face bore only a light dusting across the nose, a trail of them traced down his neck like footprints in the sand, skittering across his bare shoulders as if marked by the sea’s gentle spray. Nyel’s eyes followed the trail lower, lingering on the curve of Atreus’s muscled arm before finally resting on the hand splayed against the wooden floor. It was big and calloused from hours working the docks. A few scars dotted his knuckles.

Nyel knew those hands were warm. That they closed around his perfectly. He scooted his hand closer until their pinkies barely touched. Instantly, Atreus flinched, pulling away from the contact.

“S-sorry,” Nyel said, embarrassment flooding his cheeks.

“No, it’s okay. Surprised me, is all. I’m not used to… ” Atreus looked down, and Nyel was surprised to find him flushed.

“Not used to what?”

“I’m— I’m not a touchy person.”

Nyel thought back to his childhood, filled to bursting with a smothering mother, a doting father, and recently, an aunt who embraced him on every occasion. He’d grown up in a home with kisses, swishing tails, and playful flicks on his fins.

Atreus spent the majority of his life alone. And when he wasn’t alone, he was with humans, whom he carefully kept at a distance.

“Sorry.” Nyel apologized again.

“I don’t hate it,” Atreus quickly amended, “It’s just?—”

“New?”

Atreus nodded. “Yeah. Different.”

Atreus placed his hand back on the floor, slowly sliding it across the smooth surface until, once again, their pinkies brushed together. He held it there, sucking in a breath while Nyel stopped breathing entirely. Tentatively, Nyel lifted his pinky finger, placing it over Atreus’s.

“Is this okay?” Nyel whispered like he might frighten the moment away.

Atreus nodded, then lifted his hand and rested it over Nyel’s. It closed around him perfectly, as he knew it would.

And it’s warm.

“I’m sorry about hugging you earlier. I didn’t realize.”

“I saw you coming and braced for it. Otherwise, I might have knocked you into the wall,” Atreus said, keeping his gaze on their overlapping hands.

But the curtains were drawn, and it was pitch black. A memory resurfaced from their early morning adventure—how Atreus had complained about the flashlight, which he didn’t need.

“How do you see so well in the dark?”

“ Rusalki blood,” a voice said directly behind them.

In an instant, they sprung apart, and Atreus had a sharpened stick in his hands before Nyel even realized what was happening.

Nephi laughed from the corner of the room. “Easy boys, it’s just me.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Atreus growled.

Nephi gave a sly grin. “Good.”

“Nephi, what are you doing here?” Nyel asked, trying to calm his exploding nerves. “How did you get up here?”

Nephi pointed behind him. “The stairs.”

“It squeaks like crazy; we didn’t hear a thing.” Atreus bit out, still clutching the homemade spear.

“And how is that my fault?” Nephi replied, “I’m stealthier than I look.”

Nyel rested a hand on Atreus’s arm .

“Easy, Nephi isn’t here to cause trouble. Right?” Nyel said with a pointed look.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, which somehow made Nyel even more skeptical.

Atreus lowered the spear but didn’t drop it.

“What did you say about being Ru — what was that word?” Nyel sat, hoping the other two would do the same. They did, though Atreus’s narrowed gaze didn’t leave Nephi for even a blink.

Nephi made himself comfortable, stretching and crossing his legs like he owned the place. He sat farthest from the fire, and Nyel thought he saw Nephi snarl in its direction.

“He is half Rusalki . They have excellent eyesight in the dark.”

“Oh wow, you never told me that,” Nyel said, going for a light tone.

“I didn’t know,” Atreus growled through clenched teeth.

“Another species of Mer that live in the north,” Nephi filled in. “Big, barbed with a knack for fighting.”

Nyel was amazed. Nephi never spoke about his travels, and now here he was, offering relevant information.

“What else?”

“Well,” Nephi said, considering Atreus, “Your sense of smell isn’t as good as mine and Nyel’s. That’s a Sireni gift.”

“Oh, we knew that one,” Nyel said. “I’ve wondered why Atreus couldn’t follow a scent trail.”

“Yours is better than mine since you’re a pure sireno . I’m a mutt with only half the parts. Plus, I fucked one of my nostrils, so I’m running on fifty percent as it is.” Nephi said, pointing to his disfigured right nostril.

“What can the Ra-Maa do?” Nyel asked before he could stop himself. Nephi stiffened right away, his grin dissolving.

“S-sorry,” Nyel said, ducking his head .

“My mother, a Ra-Maa woman, gave me my red fins. And that’s all the information you’re getting.” He jerked his chin in Atreus’s direction. “And I have no idea what his other half is. Not a Mer I’ve ever seen.”

Nyel didn’t miss the way Atreus’s shoulders sagged slightly.

“You got any food here?” Nephi barked, “I didn’t have a chance to steal anything after I watched your little fiasco at the well.”

“You saw that?” Nyel exclaimed. “And you didn’t do anything?”

Nephi shrugged him off. “What was I supposed to do? I told you this would happen. Lo and behold, it did. You’re lucky only the little woman was with you; if that giant man you live with had been there, you’d have gotten a harpoon through the ribs.”

Nyel’s insides clenched at the thought of Giovanni turning his hulking form against him—harpoon raised, hate burning in his eyes. He shoved the thought away.

“And if someone had jumped out and come after him, would you have stayed in your hiding place?” Atreus asked accusingly.

Nephi pointed at him with a wink. “Exactly. Sorry, little brother. You and I may be on speaking terms now, but I’m nowhere ready to take a knife for you. Survival of the fittest.”

“I care about you too,” Nyel said, rolling his eyes.

“I’m just being real.”

“Well, at least we can count on you for that since, clearly, we can’t count on anything else.” Atreus bit back.

“Correct again, Bluey.”

“Stop calling me that. I’m not even completely blue.”

“Blue-Purply doesn’t roll off the tongue,” Nephi said, picking at a stray nail. “So what’s the status on food?”

Atreus sighed, but Nyel was glad to see him relax somewhat.

“Nothing you’d like. I have some cans of sardines, and that’s it.”

“I’ll eat that.” Nephi said, “I’m only half Sireni , remember? I rather enjoy the flesh of the once-living.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Nyel cringed.

Atreus stood and dug around in his corner of possessions before tossing a couple of cans at Nephi. “There.”

“You should host more often. You have such a knack for it,” Nephi deadpanned, making quick work of the lid. Nyel cringed at the sickly smell of flesh and salt.

As the trio sat around the dying embers, Nyel realized something. “I think this is the first time the three of us have spent time together.”

They were quiet again.

“It’s uncomfortable,” Atreus said.

“Let’s never do it again,” Nephi offered.

“Agreed,” Atreus replied quickly, and that was that.

Nephi groaned as he stood, stretching. “I’ll take the first watch; you two sleep.”

“Watch?” Nyel asked, eyebrows knit in confusion.

“What? Do you really think there aren’t hunting parties looking for you right this second? Even on this deceptively peaceful island, we have to be vigilant.”

“Nobody is hunting us. Marina won’t tell anyone,” Atreus said, but he didn’t sound certain.

Nephi laughed mirthlessly. “And you actually have faith in that human?”

“I —I do.”

“Then you’re a fool. They’re lying, two-faced creatures with a love for killing anything that’s different.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Atreus said, eyes heavy on Nephi.

The two males stared each other down, the tension crackling worse than the fire. Nyel was half-standing, ready to break up a fight, before Nephi laughed.

“This world makes monsters of us all. Still, I won’t be the monster that gets its throat sliced while it sleeps. I’m keeping watch.” This time, Nyel definitely didn’t imagine the snarl as Nephi glared at the dying embers. “Douse that. We don’t need it, and it’s giving us away.”

“Like hell. I’m not putting Nyel in the dark where he can’t see. And I’m not sleeping with you around,” Atreus hissed. Nyel tensed, waiting for Nephi’s anger to flare, but a sly grin once again slid across his brother’s scarred face.

“You’re finally learning. Fine, then you and I can stare into each other’s eyes all night long.”

Atreus huffed. “As if.”

“Right. You’d rather do that with my brother.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Nyel interjected and hated the way his face went warm.

He didn’t mean anything by that. Did he?

“It means what it means. Go to sleep. Apparently, you’ll have two guards on duty.”

“If you two aren’t sleeping, neither am I,” Nyel said stubbornly, even though his eyelids felt as heavy as anchors.

“It’s an all-night party,” Nephi said with a clap, settling by a window and gazing at Baia Vita in the distance.

Atreus made himself busy gathering the firewood around the room, and Nyel sat by the fire feeling useless.

Yeah… this is awkward.