by Emma Hamm
“Is it the same as the shirt?”
“Yes,” he said with a chuckle. “You’re actually holding this one correctly. That’s the front.”
“Good.”
She scrambled from the bed. Blankets fell onto the floor, and she did not stop them. Grasping the hem of her shirt, she whipped it over her head.
Manus made a strange hissing sound behind her.
She would never understand humans. They acted as though nudity was only acceptable in certain situations. Others, like now, had an effect on him she couldn’t understand. Saoirse intended to find out as soon as possible.
The dress slid over her skin like the finest water, trailing over her and molding to her form. She smoothed her hand down her stomach. The inside of the dress was much more pleasant feeling than the outside. Tiny pearls were sewn into the lace, dotting the dress with sea treasures so fine, she was certain they must have contacted the Fae.
“Manus?” Saoirse turned, her smile so wide it made her cheeks ache. “What do you think?”
He sat on the bed and leaned back on his hands, taking his time looking at her from head to toe. Her entire body tingled at his perusal. She desperately wanted to press her hands against the heated burn of her cheeks but held herself still so he might look upon her dress.
“It’s incredible, although I think you might give the vicar a heart attack looking like that.”
“Why?”
“Any sane man will salivate the moment he sets eyes on you.”
Saoirse wasn’t certain what he meant, but she knew it was good. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Are we going now then?”
Manus blinked, slowly taking his time to lift his gaze to hers. “That was the plan.”
“Is it still?”
“I’m trying to be an honest man, my pearl. The things I want to do to you require marriage first.”
“I’m not human, Manus. The things you want to do may be perfectly normal in my world.”
“I promise you, they aren’t.” He stood and held out his hand for her to take. “Are you ready?”
She had waited her entire life for this moment. Captivated, she slid her fingers into his. Callouses bit at the delicate skin of her palm, but she had never felt anything as decadent.
Manus led her from the quaint little space and guided her into the night. Moonlight bathed his form in a glow that was almost godlike. He glanced over his shoulder, still holding her hand, and smiled.
They clambered over large driftwood, and up wooden planks hammered together. Stairs, she reminded herself. He called them that, and she would need to remember that if this were to be her life.
Saoirse wanted to stop and stare at everything. The cobblestone path was meticulously laid. Stones fit together almost perfectly, and she wondered who had done the work. Was it possible that humans could also utilize magic? Mortals could never complete such intricate designs on their own.
Buildings rose out of the darkness like great monoliths. Starlight glimmered on the glass windows, blinking at Saoirse as she passed. There were no lights within the great structures.
Unable to contain her curiosity, she tugged on Manus’s hand to slow him. “Do people live in these?”
“Yeah.”
“How many?” She stared up and up at the four-story building before them. “Are they princes?”
“No, these are communal houses. Falling apart at the seams, but slightly better than my shack.”
“Falling apart?”
“You can’t see the thatch roof is rotting? Some windows are missing panes, and it looks like the lock was broken off the front door. That’s not a safe place to stay unless you know how to protect yourself.”
“Oh,” she whispered, seeing the home in a new light.
She still thought it impressive. Merrows didn’t build things under the ocean. They tended to be more interested in discovering than creating.
And yet, her brother once had strung together a strand of pearls to give their mother. It wasn’t anything compared to the building, but it was the start of an intelligent society realizing their hands could do something.
Their father had ripped the necklace apart and her brother never tried again.
Frowning, she let Manus tug her deeper into the port city. The buildings grew, each structure built closer and closer until there was no room at all between them. Her feet became dirty, grit and mud sticking between her toes. She was uncomfortable but didn’t dare ask him to stop.
They were going to get married. She wouldn’t make him pause for anything other than the world ending. Dirty feet certainly weren’t that.
“There,” Manus said. He pointed far ahead of them at a gray shape which was just taking form. “That’s the church.”
“Church?”
“Where many worship God.”
She nodded. “It is good to honor the Tuatha dé Danann. They appreciate it when humans remember all the Fae have done.”
When he didn’t respond, she glanced over at his sharp profile. His brows were furrowed, and he licked his lips before responding.
“They don’t honor the Tuatha dé Danann.”
“Then who?”
“The Christian God.”
“Who is he?”
“I’ll explain it to you later.”
She tugged again, forcing him to pause. “I want to know what kind of God will be there, Manus. I don’t like thinking someone other than my people will sanction this marriage.”
“It’s my God, Saoirse.” He tugged her against his broad, strong chest and tucked a finger under her chin. Carefully, he tilted her head up to look at him. “We’re already married in the eyes of your people, aren’t we?”
“Yes.”
“Then let us marry in the eyes of my people.”
She couldn’t argue with that even though she didn’t like the idea of marrying in front of a god she’d never met. What if she didn’t like him? Or worse, what if he didn’t like her? There were too many questions to answer. She knew what the wrath of a god looked like, and it wasn’t pretty.
Shivering, she let him pull her towards the gray shape which grew impossibly taller with each step they took.
The church was terrifying. The high spires jabbed at the air, while solemn looking men stared down at her, wings gracing their backs. She stared at one until it seemed to move. Flinching, she tucked herself again Manus’s back.
Fae blood ran in her veins. She should not fear mortal made creations, and yet she did. The things humans created were both wondrous and horrifying.
“Here we are,” he murmured. He pushed open a small door near the side of the church which blended into the stone surface. “In you go.”
She hesitated for a moment before plunging into the darkness. The stone structure swallowed her whole, and the belly of the beast was even more terrifying than the outside. Meager light filtered through colored glass windows while stone statues glared down at her from great heights.
Was this human god already displeased with her presence?
Saoirse met the gaze of a severe stone man who glowered down at her. He wore a strange hat on his head and held a staff that looked far too easy to clobber people with. He leaned forward just enough that she worried he might take a step onto the floor in the next instant.
The Unseelie Fae used stone statues as warriors. She’d listened to the stories in her youth and swam back to her bed with nightmares already at the edges of her vision. Saoirse never thought she’d see such magic in her life.
She gulped and stepped backwards. Her spine hit what felt like a wall until the flat surface inhaled.
Manus’s arm crept around her middle and tucked her back against him. “What is it?”
“The statues.”
“What about them?”
“They look as if they are alive.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “They aren’t, my pearl. No magic has stepped foot in this building for a very long time.”
“Until me.”
“Blessed with the grace of the sea.” He pressed another lingering kiss to her hair and then slid his hand down to hers. Warm fingers laced through hers. “Come with me, Saoirse. I’ll keep you safe from the statues, and if they step from their pedestals, I shall crush them to dust.”
“Promise?”
His brilliant grin was enough of an answer.
Saoirse’s shivers disappeared. His eyes crinkled in the corners whenever he smiled, a sure sign he had lived a life where smiles weren’t a rare occurrence. The honey gold flecks in his eyes glowed when he was pleased, like the sun dancing across the surface of a black sea.
How could she not be captivated by him? The humans claimed merrow women sang sailors into rocks, but he was the one leading her to trouble. Every sway of his body, every twitch of his lips, every squeeze of his fingers around hers were a siren song she could not resist.
“Father?” Manus called out.
“Father?” she repeated. “This man is your father?”
“No, no. Not mine. It’s what we call them.”
“Why? That’s terribly confusing.” Saoirse wrinkled her brows.
“It’s just…” Manus sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know the answer to that, my pearl. It’s how it’s always been.”
They walked down a long hall with strange, long seats bracketing each side. She wanted to pull on him again and ask what they were for, but he rushed her past the interesting new seats. There were so many strange things here! How would she ever learn them all?
“Manus, you’ve returned.” The voice was quiet and humble. It was a voice she could listen to for hours on end, like the crashing of waves against a sandy beach.
She whipped around, yearning to see who owned such a voice.
The new man stood at the top of a few stairs. There was a table behind him covered with many objects, including a golden man who looked similar to her own. The Father wore white robes, with a black sash around his neck. And though he was not young, he certainly wasn’t old. Wrinkles had just begun to form on his kind face, and his eyes sparkled with life.
This was a man she wanted to know, Saoirse realized. He radiated a certain energy she hadn’t encountered in any human before. Kindness pulsed in golden light, so vivid she could almost touch it.
“Ah, father, there you are. I’ve returned with the woman we spoke about.”
“This is the lass who has caught your attention? I didn’t think it possible to tame your wild soul. Come closer child, I’d like to see the miracle worker.”
Saoirse didn’t realize he was talking to her until Manus planted a hand against her spine and nudged her forward.
Why did she have to talk to this man who called himself father, but did not have a son? She tucked her trembling hands into the lacy folds of her skirt and stepped forward into the candlelight.
“Ah, you are very lovely, aren’t you? No wonder Manus wants to snatch you up. Any man would be honored to have such a woman grace his arm.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
All this attention made her uncomfortable. What did this man see when he looked at her? Fidgeting, she tucked her hair behind her ears.
The vicar flinched back immediately. “What is this?”
“Now, father, keep an open mind,” Manus interjected.
“An open mind? You’ve brought a faerie into a holy place!”
“There’s nothing wrong with faeries.”
The vicar’s face grew red. Saoirse couldn’t tell if it was in anger or fear. “Faeries have no place in the house of God. I will not perform this marriage, nor will any other sane man.”
“You already said you would, father.”
“And you lied.”
“I did no such thing.”
“You omitted the truth, which is just as bad.” The vicar pointed at Manus, jabbing the air as if his hand were a sword. “I may follow the word of God, but I was raised here, boy. I know the stories of the Fae, and I know what they are capable of. You play with fire! I want nothing of it in my church. Begone.”
Their shouts rose into the rafters and echoed back down until she was struck with them over and over again.
Manus flushed with anger, his hands fisting at his sides. “You have no right.”
“You raise a hand to a priest and you’ll be in more trouble than just a few nights in the gaol.”
Saoirse gulped and whispered, “Stop it.”
They didn’t. She backed a few steps away from them, wrapping her arms around her waist. Did they not understand they were frightening her? She didn’t want to be in this terrifying building anymore with its stone guards and angry priest.
They continued on and she pressed her hands to her ears. Their words struck her hands and wiggled between her fingers.
“You think a few nights behind bars frightens me, father? You more than anyone knows where I came from, and I suggest you not be foolish enough to tempt me.”
“Temptation is a sin, one I know you over indulge in.”
“Don’t preach to me of sin as if you are pristine and ready to go to the holy lands! I knew you before you donned the robes—”
“Stop it!” Her shout echoed louder than theirs, fierce and bright as freshly fallen snow.
The two men froze and turned as one to stare at the little merrow. Saoirse watched their lips, waiting for them to move, but they did not. Slowly, she dropped her hands and straightened her spine.
“I don’t know what I did wrong,” she said. “I’m sorry if I insulted your home by entering it without permission.”
The angry lines around the vicar’s mouth softened. “Child, that is not why I am angry.”
“Then why?”
He stepped towards her, hesitating only when she mirrored his actions in the opposite direction. “What are you?”
“I am one of the merrows.”
“My mother used to tell me stories about your kind. How beautiful the women were, but caged underneath the waves by their husbands, or caging others. Is it freedom you seek?”
She nodded.
“Are you certain it is freedom with a sailor you desire?” His eyes turned kind again. “Manus is not one for loyalty. You could have anyone you wanted from the land. A prince, if need be. Your life with him will not be an easy one.”
Manus’s fists lifted. “You have no right, father.”
“I have every right. I will not marry a woman to a man she does not know or understand. She is innocent to this world.” He rolled his eyes. “Manus, stop looking at me like that. I may be a priest but I’m an Irishman first and foremost. I was raised with stories of the Fae just as you were.”
“She can make her own decisions.”
“Can she? Have you told her what you can offer her?” The priest pointed at him again. “The threat of starvation always looming around the corner? No money to buy new clothing, stealing from whoever has loose pockets, wondering if you have enough money to buy peat for the winter? There are better ways for her to live, and you know it. You’ll throw her out to the cold as soon as the sea calls you.”
“Why you pompous—”
Saoirse could stand this arguing no further. She stepped between the men, her shivers creating ripples down the dress until the lace looked as frothy as sea foam.
“Enough. I will not say it again.” Their wide eyes met hers at the harsh crack of her words. “I am a grown woman, and I appreciate your concern, but I will not have yet another man making decisions for me. We are already married in the eyes of the Fae. I don’t care if you or your god deems us wed.”
“You do not know who you are pledging yourself to,” the priest sighed. “You are choosing a life of hardship with a man who will always consider you second best to the sea.”
Anger flared bright in her chest. “I’m afraid we must not see the same man. It is not that I am blind to his weaknesses, father, I see them clear as day. But I also see a man who acknowledges his faults. There is no such thing as a
person without flaws, and I choose to be with a man who knows what he is.”
“That’s a pretty way of saying it, but it doesn’t show you understand what your life will be.”
“My life will be what I choose. No more, and no less.”
The priest searched her gaze, his eyes delving into the darkness of hers until he found what he wanted. He gave a curt nod, then turned to the altar.
“So be it. If I cannot convince you of your own folly, you will have to learn it yourself.”
She didn’t think he was right, and she certainly didn’t think he would ever prove her wrong. Saoirse reached for Manus’s hand and tucked it into hers.
He gazed down at her with pure joy in his eyes. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I’ve already pledged myself to you Manus, a thousand times over in my mind and if I must, I will scream it to the sky. I crossed the seas to find you. I would do it again in a heartbeat.”
“What did I do for such a creature to find me?” he asked quietly. “I have never been looked upon kindly by any god. Why you?”
Saoirse reached up and pressed her palm to his cheek. “I see the man you keep hidden from the world, and I like him very much. I think, perhaps, you do not. At least not yet.”
“See him? Or like him?”
That was a question she couldn’t answer for him. Instead, she smiled a secret smile and tugged him towards the priest who patiently waited at the altar.
She knelt beside him and copied his movements. It was a rather easy ceremony. Repeat the words, copy the actions, allow the priest to bind their hands together and proclaim them man and wife. It was more than a faerie wedding, but less than she might have expected from such creatures.
“Do you take this woman as your wife?” the priest asked.
“I do.” Manus’s voice lifted to the rafters, strong and confident enough to weaken her knees if she had been standing.
“Do you take this man as your husband?”
She looked Manus in the eyes, in those dark earthy eyes with threads of gold and copper.
“I do.”
“Then by the power vested in me, I pronounce you man and wife.”
Manus lurched to his feet, drawing her with him and tugging her into his arms. He bent low and growled in her ear, “I will not disgrace you before a priest, but you and I are going home right now.”