Page 10 of The Merman’s Betrothal (Outcast Hearts #2)

O h, this kiss was different .

During the first one in the club, Fionn hadn’t been thinking straight. He’d charged in, guided by instinct, and barely comprehended the messy clash of mouths as it happened.

This time, Rory led the charge, and Fionn wasn’t ready for it.

It was… deep and sensual. Rory clasped his shoulders like he was either trying to hang off him or force Fionn down to his level.

His lips moved slowly, giving Fionn time to track their movements and the little tingles they sent running down his spine.

The scrape of Rory’s stubble was strange and abrasive, but the strangeness only made it more exciting.

The longer it went on, the warmer Fionn felt. He just knew he was flushing a deeper shade of blue, perhaps even erring on purple. His cock seemed to be gaining a mild interest—Rory’s had already made its presence extremely clear, poking Fionn’s thigh through Rory’s boxers.

Rory finally broke away, eyes half-lidded, and muttered a simple ‘Jesus, fuck,’ against Fionn’s mouth.

It sent a thrill through Fionn.

That was a relief. At least he felt something .

Fionn was worried about his lack of instant attraction to Rory. Wasn’t he supposed to want to jump straight into bed with his soul mate the moment they met? So far, the most he could say was that Rory was aesthetically pleasing to look at. The kiss gave him something more tangible to hang onto.

Now they were separated again by air, Rory seemed to snap back into himself. He pushed Fionn away, eyes wide and fearful.

‘Didn’t mean to do that,’ Rory said hoarsely. ‘It’s your fault, isn’t it? How do I make this stop?’

By your fault Fionn surmised he meant the soul bond tying them together. He’d heard there were ways of breaking a soul bond by ancient rituals and deep magics. But that wasn’t something he was going to divulge right now. Not while there was a chance that Rory might be the answer he was looking for.

‘We are meant for each other,’ he opted to say instead, rolling the idea around for himself. When said aloud, it felt a little more true. ‘The fates have decided our bond for us, and we should be grateful for it.’

‘No. No, no, no. Never in a million years would I go for you, mate.’ Rory scowled and crossed his arms. Completely ignoring the kiss he’d initiated not five seconds ago. His tone was downright insolent, like he didn’t care a jot that he was addressing royalty.

Fionn persevered, despite his growing irritation. Why couldn’t this be easy, like it was in the story for Nechtan and Bridei? ‘It is not about whether you would “go” for me, or not. We are soul mates, and that is that.’

‘What do you even mean, soul mates? You’re off your head. And you’re feckin’ blue! An actual fishman. Why would the universe put me with you?’

‘You wouldn’t be my first choice, either,’ Fionn snapped back. ‘Do you think I, a Prince of the ocean, would choose a land-dwelling oik like yourself?’

If Rory’s reception had been cold before, now it turned icy. ‘Out,’ he demanded through gritted teeth. ‘Get your fishy arse out of my house and take your magic soul shit with you.’

Fishy?!

‘Gladly!’ Fionn gave a great huff and stormed out to the stairs. He was beyond stunned. No one had ever taken such a tone with him before. Who did this scruffy human think he was?

Neacel was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. His shoulders hunched up to his ears as Fionn stomped down and he turned away to hide a very guilty wince. Fantastic. Neacel had heard everything.

‘It’s time to leave,’ Fionn told him brusquely.

‘What about your mate?’

‘A lost cause.’

Fionn was done with this cruel joke. He couldn’t understand why he ought be attracted to this random human, let alone be a match so perfect that their souls apparently recognised each other.

He was halfway down the street when he realised that Neacel was struggling to keep up. The shorter Minchman hurried to his side but didn’t say anything.

‘Sorry about Seòras,’ Fionn muttered. ‘Maybe Iomhar can introduce you instead.’

Neacel nodded slowly. He looked like he was chewing over something. ‘It was a long shot, anyway. We probably wouldn’t be a good match.’

‘You never know,’ Fionn said sourly. ‘There have been stranger couplings.’

What could possibly be stranger than a Minchman and a human, after all?

Neacel glanced back the way they’d come. ‘You are giving up on him so easily, Your Highness?’

‘I’m not giving up, ’ Fionn retorted, hackles raised. ‘I never give up.’

‘You called him a lost cause.’ They reached the edge of town where all the fluorescent lights fell away. In the dark, Neacel finally looked at him and Fionn found something brazen in his moonlit expression. ‘Your Highness, may I say something bold?’

‘I get the feeling I won’t be able to stop you.’

A faint smile tugged at Neacel’s mouth. ‘When I met you, the water was foul with your misery. People are afraid to approach you because of it. Unhappiness follows you everywhere like a cloud of dark ink. Even on land you look weighted down by the measure of anguish on your shoulders.’ Neacel tilted his head.

‘And yet, when you saw your soul mate for the first time, I sensed that dark cloud lifted. Perhaps only for a moment. But for that moment, it seemed you might have traded misery for hope.’

Neacel said all this lightly, dropping bombs of observation without thought for the craters left on impact.

Fionn was too startled to think of an answer.

Was his suffering really so obvious to everyone around him?

If anything that made it worse; that all his kin knew his despair and did nothing to lift it.

He imagined the whole kingdom sharing pitied glances at him while he studied, while he fought, while he patrolled.

While trying to do the best he could for all of them.

There was a rock in his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

What’s worse, Neacel was right. Within the whirlwind of his bond igniting, Fionn had entertained the thought that he might not have to undertake his duty after all. Perhaps if he could have brought Rory to the palace, shown his father that he was already bonded…

Fionn’s heart sank down to his toes. He already knew how the Blue King would react.

There would surely be cold disappointment, as though Fionn had gone out of his way to sully relations with the Redfolk of his own accord.

He would order the bond to be broken, and Fionn would marry his betrothed no matter the cost.

No matter the cost to his own son.

‘It seems to me you’ve been granted a miracle,’ Neacel went on, breaking Fionn from his downward spiral. ‘The rest of us must search for our life companions. It is a careful choice, and the decision weighs heavily. Some of us may never find a suitable mate to bond with at all.’

‘But at least it is a choice for you. It seems even with a miracle I am not granted a choice in my partner,’ Fionn said wretchedly.

‘Ah, but even if I find someone I wish to bond with, Your Highness, the king might still refuse to grant it—’

‘Don’t be absurd.’ Fionn scoffed at such a weak argument. ‘The king has never refused any request for a soul bonding ceremony. It would be sacrilege.’

‘Exactly!’

Neacel did the unthinkable and cut across Fionn’s path, stopping him to force eye contact. Neacel’s face shone with a mixture of earnest belief and a surprising glint of guile. ‘Does the king not personally ignite the soul bond of every mated Minchman?’

Neacel held out his left palm, the place where a tattoo recording a bond would be made.

‘One day I hope to bring a partner of my own before him. How could the king, of all of us, deny the sanctity of a fated bond? When it is he who guards the very magic our soul bonds are made from? It would be like denying everything he stands for.’

Fionn appraised Neacel anew. The young Minchman clearly had the ability to think in loops, whereas Fionn considered his own reasoning to be rather more straight forward.

Fionn was accustomed to tackling problems head-on, whereas perhaps Neacel, lacking brawn or noble authority, had become adept at sidling around their edges.

‘What if that is not enough?’ Fionn asked. ‘It is all very well expecting my father to support a fated bond, but if it ruins my betrothal and breaks our alliance with the Redfolk…’

‘How could it?’ Neacel spoke innocently enough, but artful logic lurked underneath.

‘Did you not say your betrothal would have been a soul bond rooted in magic? A curse, I think you called it, actually. Imagine, if both the Red King and Blue King rejected a soul bond chosen by the fates themselves—a power beyond fae magic. In doing so they would be rejecting the very concept that underpins your betrothal. It would be like calling a soul bond worthless, and the basis for their alliance would crumble anyway.’

These heavy words settled slowly in Fionn’s brain.

Neacel was right. Most Minchmen regarded a soul bond as the epitome of inner beauty, the closest a person could come to touching holiness.

If the king ever refused to grant a requested soul bond, there would surely be uproar.

If the king opposed a fated soul bond, already ignited without his help, it might just rock the entire palace foundations.

It would be like daring the Deep Gods to rise from their slumber.

‘And you farm oysters?’ Fionn said faintly.

‘My fathers do. I am a forager, myself.’

Fionn shook his spinning head. ‘You clearly have a better mind for politics than I.’

He felt something opening in his chest again. The rock becoming lighter. The tiniest trickle of hope allowed back in. Perhaps something of Nechtan and Bridei’s story could lay in wait for him, yet.

Behind it, the foreign current of Rory’s presence also washed through him. Fionn shivered, instinctively pulling away from the waves of disgust and confusion that seemed to be thrashing against that far shore.

‘You might be right,’ Fionn said, placing his left hand over his heart. ‘But what if fate has made a mistake? It has chosen me a human, after all.’

‘Maybe there is a reason. Maybe our people need this. Maybe you need this, Your Highness?’

Fionn gave Neacel a sceptical look. ‘You think fate is trying to teach me a lesson about understanding humans? Is that really what you’re going with?’

To his surprise, Neacel laughed. ‘That wasn’t what I meant, but you could perhaps widen your worldview a little.’

Fionn folded his arms defensively but couldn’t come up with a biting comeback. He wasn’t used to criticism being dressed up with a chuckle. It was like Neacel was making fun of him, but in a friendly way.

‘I would still need to convince my father that my soul bond is fated,’ Fionn warned.

Neacel’s eyes lit up, realising he’d won Fionn round. ‘Surely you just need to present Rory to the king?’

‘Certainly. If I can convince him to join me.’ Fionn jerked his head at the crashing waves beyond the cliff edge. ‘The problem is taking a human through the ocean.’

Neacel paused before his face fell. ‘Oh.’ He coughed uncertainly. ‘I don’t suppose… the king would hold court on land, just once?’

Fionn snorted. ‘No. I don’t want to give the court any warning about it, anyway.

’ His mind was already racing, starting to piece together the first shadow of a plan.

‘I need to make sure it’s somehow in public.

So that there’s no way the king can deny our bond, like you said. And there is not much time.’

‘How long do you have?’

‘Maybe three weeks? Close to the full moon. It is custom for the Redfolk to give little notice and arrive in secrecy.’

He caught sight of Neacel’s wrinkled nose. ‘That sounds awfully anxiety-inducing.’

‘I think it’s just another way to put our kingdom on the back foot. They like to hold all the power, obviously.’

Fionn took off towards the beach with Neacel once again hurrying to keep up.

He could put his own misgivings about the bond aside, now that he had a goal in mind.

He’d have to devote all his time to winning Rory over.

To convince this unappealing, argumentative human that they were indeed meant to be together.

And once Rory was on board, they could tackle the next step.

‘We will employ the land Witch,’ Fionn said aloud as they stepped into the hidden cave. ‘He may have some means to let humans travel underwater.’

Neacel sucked in a shocked breath. ‘You know the Walker Witch?’

‘Of course.’ Fionn felt the way Neacel’s admiration of him shot up with that admission.

It was one of his only human interactions, facilitated by Iomhar in the name of practicing formal relations with other species.

Fionn squared his shoulders, a little embarrassed but preening under the attention.

‘You mustn’t tell anyone about this, Neacel. ’

Neacel nodded enthusiastically. ‘Absolutely. I will do anything you need of me to help, Your Highness.’

‘You really want to help?’ Fionn couldn’t prevent a hint of suspicion from tainting his hopeful mood. Who had ever really assisted him with nothing to gain, except maybe Iomhar? ‘I still can’t guarantee a meeting with Seòras.’

‘Forget Seòras.’ Neacel waved the suggestion away with fluttering hands. He was practically dancing with excitement now. ‘You have a soul mate, Your Highness. I’ll do everything in my power to protect your bond.’

‘Thank you,’ Fionn said awkwardly.

‘It’s an honour, Your Highness.’

‘Please. Call me Fionn.’

Having stripped of kilts and other accoutrements, they stepped into the water and glided into the dark.