by Emma Hamm
“What?”
“Rolling your eyes. It’s not something you’ve ever done before, and I assume a rather human trait.”
“Faeries are able to emote disgust or disapproval. We roll our eyes as well.”
He cupped her face and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I learn something new every day about you and your kind.”
“Why were you talking to that captain about a ship, Manus?”
“Why were you dancing with that tall bloke we met in the bar?”
He had her there. Saoirse gaped up at him. “I didn’t think you were looking?”
Gently, Manus tugged her against his chest. His hands spanned her waist and stroked the long line of her spine. “I’m always watching you, I can’t help it. You looked like a real princess dancing with him. The two of you were almost otherworldly.”
She couldn’t lie to him. No matter how angry she was, or how much she knew he was trying to distract her, Saoirse thought he deserved to know the whole truth of her life.
“He’s not human either,” she corrected. “He may masquerade as one of your nobility, but I can assure you, he is not like any of you. Faerie dancing differs greatly from humans.”
“I can see that.” Manus brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and lowered his head. He pressed their foreheads together, sighing. “Do you regret it? Do you wish you had chosen a faerie lover and run off to the Otherworld?”
“That’s a cruel thing to ask.”
“Because it’s true?”
“Those are two very different futures, incomparable to each other. If I had chosen a faerie, I would have married a merrow man. Even if, by some strange luck, another had fallen in love with me, it’s unlikely my life would have been happy. Faeries are cold, hungry, and always desperate for more power.”
His fingers stroked the back of her neck. “Then why do you still look disappointed?”
“Humans aren’t what I expected. I thought your kind would be more honest, perhaps a little more adventurous. But your nobility is eerily similar to ours. The people in there wear masks instead of faces. They frighten me.”
“How could they frighten you? You’re a princess from another land, an heiress to a massive fortune, and my wife.”
Manus spread his hands wide on her back, spreading warmth through her entire body. He slanted his mouth over hers and poured love into her. She tasted whiskey—vivid and stinging — on his tongue.
He pulled back for a deep breath. “Don’t dance with too many men, my pearl. I don’t think my heart could take it.”
“Your heart?” She reached up and traced the swirls of his ears. “Or your pride?”
“Both. You are everything to me, the reason I am here, my wealth, my happiness, my glory. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, Saoirse.”
It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough for now. She tucked herself under his chin and breathed out a sigh of relief. He cared, she knew it, and somehow she would endure this strange life of servants, secrets hidden behind fans, and houses that moaned in the night.
“I love you.” She pressed the words above his heart, willing them to sink into his form and fill his body with magic. His chest expanded, his spine straightened, and she felt a small bit of herself fill the cavity of his body.
Merrow magic was rare and weak compared to all other Fae. She could only give him confidence, health, and impress happiness into his skin like a shield against all that would tear him down.
Even if it cost her life, Saoirse would protect him from the perils of the human world.
Seagulls screamed above the dock, circling the fisheries for any scrap that might fall. The thumping crack of knives against wood tangled with the quiet slap of raw fish striking the ground. Children raced through the crowd, reaching up with quick fingers to pickpocket anyone they could find.
“Stay close to me,” Manus said, threading her arm through his. “I’d rather not have to chase a small boy today.”
“Are they always boys?” She watched one race through the crowd, a growling man chasing him while loudly swearing.
“The girls usually stand on street corners and beg, they’re far cuter for pitying women like yourself. Or—” he hesitated before clearing his throat. “There are other opportunities for poor women, and they aren’t ones we should particularly talk about.”
“You always say that.” Saoirse chuckled. “It’s almost as if you were raised a lord, rather than a poor boy running around like this.”
“That’s because I was.”
She froze.
Manus stumbled as she held his arm still, then glanced back. “Saoirse?”
“You never told me that you weren’t always a street rat. You’ve joked so many times about being born on the streets that I always thought…” She shrugged. “I don’t know what I thought.”
“I wasn’t rich or noble-born if that’s what you’re thinking.”
He tried to continue walking, but she tugged on his arm again. “Manus, tell me! I want to know.”
“We’ve got a ship to look over, my pearl.”
“This is important. It’s part of who you are, and I want to know.”
A muscle in his jaw jumped, but he relented. “My mother was a kitchen maid. She wasn’t well known, but one of the footmen found her pretty and then I came about. They let her stay in the house while I was a child, but when I started talking they kicked us both out. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” Her mind raced, remembering suddenly how sure footed he was. Manus had bought their house without walking through it. He’d pointed out rooms by name, but she had assumed it was something all humans knew. She shook her head. “You grew up in the house we live in, didn’t you?”
Manus licked his lips, obviously uncomfortable with the conversation. “I did.”
“Is that why you wanted to buy it?”
“There’s a certain amount of justice in my return. I now own the house of the man who threw my mother out onto the streets. If I could, I would have buried him in the backyard to dance upon his grave every night.”
She didn’t like this side of Manus. The dark edge of his tone was a blade that burned her heart. She had known their house didn’t feel safe or loved. They were living in a tomb of bad memories and a past he couldn’t let go.
Manus sighed. “Come on, don’t put more into it. We have a lovely home, we are both happy. Let the past stay in the past, Saoirse.”
“Can you?”
He said no more and dragged her down the docks towards a large ship with clean, white sails hanging limp from three masts. It was an impressive ship, a kind she had only seen once in her life. A royal ship.
Manus opened his arms wide, tossed his head back, and laughed. “Isn’t she a beauty? My pearl, Ramsey didn’t lie to us. This the most magnificent creation I have ever seen.”
“It’s beautiful and will weather many storms.”
“Storms? I think it could weather a faerie sea itself!”
“I doubt that, my love. It’s too small to survive a guardian’s wrath.” She stood beside him and smiled. “But I think it shall carry us a good distance from shore safely enough.”
“Would you like to explore it?”
“I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do.”
She placed her hand on Manus’s arm, and together they stepped onto the ship.
They spent the better part of the afternoon wandering through every nook and cranny. Manus knew ships like he knew his own hand. He pointed out small cracks which would need to be filled with sap, the fine craftsmanship of the carvings, the comfort of the captain’s quarters.
This was clearly the love of his life. Saoirse watched him become more confident with every moment he was on the ship. His strides lengthened, his spine remained stiff, his eyes narrowed to catch every detail he might not have seen. He was a sight to behold.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders at the prow of the ship. “Do you see it?”
“The o
cean? It is lovely today. The waves rock us gently, for they know you wish to begin new adventures soon.”
“No, not that, my pearl.”
She followed the line of his raised arm to the masthead. Ships always had some kind of carved being watching over them. Saoirse had marveled at the carved whales, fish, and warriors. But this one was particularly meaningful.
A merrow lifted her arms into her hair and watched the ocean. Her tail lashed at the waves, warning the ocean to be careful with the men on board.
“Manus,” Saoirse breathed. “She’s beautiful.”
“I asked for her,” he replied. He squeezed her tighter. “If I’m going to have a ship, then I’m going to make certain that my faerie looks after me no matter where I am.”
“I love it. She’s beautiful.”
“As are you.”
Manus lifted her arm above her head, spun her in a circle, and caught her against his chest as she laughed. “I’m going to name her the Saorsa.”
“Freedom?”
“That is what she will gift to me, to my men, to all who stand board. And all will know that the ship with the merrow woman is one who shows compassion and ensures all aboard have an equal say in their lives.”
“When will they know this?”
“As soon as I hire them.”
Laughter bubbled from her chest. He lifted her off her feet and swung her in circles until her head spun. Only when she shrieked did he let her touch the ground again, pulling her close and pressing his lips against her forehead.
“Thank you,” he said. “You have made this possible for me, you perfect creature. There is nothing in this world gold could buy which would be a worthy reward for all you have done.”
“I need nothing other than your love.”
He hugged her tighter, and together they stared out to sea.
Thunder rolled in the distance, a great storm which would crash upon the shore and crackle with lightning. It rushed across the sea chased by churning waves white with foam.
The rumble vibrated through Saoirse’s chest, and she smiled. Storms were rare where she came from. She could hardly hear the sounds so deep underwater, but sometimes she swam to the surface so she could listen to the powerful call. It was lovely and impossible all at the same time.
Lightning flashed and illuminated her room, causing her smile to fall. Her room, private and alone, although it was right across from Manus’s. She didn’t like being so far away from him, but his response was always the same. It wasn’t proper for a man and woman of their station to be together in the same bedroom.
“It simply isn’t done, Saoirse,” he had said. “If we’re going to live like this, we have to fit in.”
Humans had strange customs. It made little sense they would insist upon something so ironclad as marriage, but then also require the couples to remain separate.
Her toes twitched as they often did when she was frustrated. A remnant from when her tail would flick side to side in the water, something her brother enjoyed pointing out. Saoirse was easy to read, even for humans it seemed.
She sat up in bed, her hair a wild dark tangle. It was only allowed freedom in her own bedroom. Her maids wouldn’t let her outside the room without a tight braid that yanked her face back.
“The lady of the house,” she grumbled as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Not a single one of them believes I am the lady of this house.”
They thought her quaint. Otherworldly. Endearing. Not a woman who ran the household.
In truth, she would likely do a poor job of it. Gardening, cleaning, rearranging furniture, it was all far beyond her knowledge or her interests.
How did human women not die of boredom?
Restless, she padded from her bed to the doors of her balcony. Lightning struck the ocean far out to sea, but from her cliff side home she could see it as if she were standing beside it. The vivid blue light burned her eyes.
The storm was a widow maker. Black rolling clouds threatened any ship which stood in its way. Thankfully, she saw no small dark shadows, bobbing at the mercy of mother nature.
Her nightgown lashed around her legs, twisting through the twin pillars and snapping behind her. Any moment, a maid would yell at her to put her wrap on. A woman would get chilled outside, and what would the master do if his lady fell ill?
Sometimes, she wished she could tell them she was Fae. That a simple cold wasn’t something she needed to worry about. Illnesses for the Fae were far different than those humans suffered.
Saoirse wrapped her arms around her waist. She hadn’t felt so alone in a while. Manus was easy to be around, and he doted on her when she was near him. But lately, he was always at the ship. He wanted everything to be perfect before they went on their maiden voyage.
She understood the desire. It was the first ship he would captain, and he had coveted the title since he was a child. The sea called to him. The longer he was away from the waves, the more frantic he became.
Waves crashed against the cliff far below her, echoing out their groan. The sound slid up her spine and exploded in the base of her skull. She couldn’t wait to go out on a ship even if she could only feel the water moving its solid base.
Warm hands curved over her shoulders, sliding down her arms and pulling her back against a firm chest. Goosebumps rose as his callouses scraped her sensitive skin. He wrapped them both in a blanket and rested his chin against her shoulder.
“You’re still awake.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
He hummed in her ear. “Ah. Does the storm frighten you? I imagine you didn’t get to experience many that far in the ocean.”
“No, I like storms. They’re beautiful in the way they release their emotions in abandon. I’ve met nothing like them before.”
Lightning struck in the distance. Saoirse held her breath, waiting for the moment thunder would boom. The clouds lit brightly from deep inside the dark masses. It crackled and built until suddenly it released in a line that zagged all the way to the ocean.
“Of all women, I should have known you’d like the storms best.” Manus held her closer, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. “Are you not cold?”
“Why does everyone ask if I’m cold?”
“Because they’re cold, and we see you standing outside with barely anything on and wonder how you could stand it.”
“I’m hardier than humans, so it seems. I grew up in the frigid deep. A little cold air is nothing compared to what I’m used to.”
He chuckled. “I look forward to hearing your thoughts about our winters. Even the depths can’t compare to snow.”
A few fat drops of rain splattered on the stone balcony. Saoirse let him draw her inside though she wished to allow the water to play over her skin. She missed it.
She missed it so much her soul hurt.
Manus slid his finger under her chin, tilting her head up so she was forced to stare at him. “Stop thinking about it. You are here, with me, and no one will ever take you from me.”
“It’s hard not to think about my home.”
“I am your home, now. I keep you safe and warm. I heal all your wounds and I dry your tears if they are shed.” He lifted her hand and pressed her palm to his heart. “You can feel it, can’t you? This is where you belong.”
Saoirse spread her fingers wide, feeling the steady beat match her own. “You’re still worried I might leave.”
“How could I not be when you stare at the ocean as if I stole you from it?”
“This was my choice, Manus.”
“And I won’t ever let you forget it,” he fiercely growled.
Somehow, she had frightened him. Saoirse allowed him to lift her up into his arms and carry her back to bed.
The soft down feathers cushioned her back, so soft it felt as if she were drifting atop the waves. Manus followed her down. He nudged her thighs open, settling against her with a groan that vibrated through her entire being.
“I’m not leaving
you,” she whispered. Lightning crackled and lit up the bedroom. It gilded the edges of his form in blue and silver while leaving his face in dark shadows.
He was a god among men, looming above her with clear intent. Saoirse couldn’t have told him no even if she wanted to. He was everything she had dreamed of and more.
The golden statue of a prince was perfection personified. He was a childish dream of a future filled with fantasy and magic. Manus was real, flesh and blood, bone and marrow. His skin was warm and bent to her will no matter what she demanded of him.
He traced the line of her throat with a feather light touch. “Have I not given you enough to keep you occupied, my pearl? I bought the largest house I could find, hired maids, gardeners, horses, and still you hide in your room.”
“I don’t like so many people staring at me, wondering who I am and asking questions I cannot answer.”
Manus dipped his head and touched his lips to the hollow behind her ear. “I forget you are so innocent. My perfect little pearl, incapable of telling even the smallest lie.”
She arched into his kiss. Warmth bloomed from wherever he touched, heating her chilled skin. When had she become so cold? Did it matter? He was a furnace filled with burning passions that would set her ablaze.
His hand trailed down her throat, danced along her collarbone, and settled between her breasts where he could feel her wild heartbeat.
“You are mine,” he growled in her ear. “Mine and no other’s.”
“I am yours.”
All at once, he was everywhere and nowhere. His hands slid along her side, his teeth pulled at her ear, his hips pressed into hers. She writhed beneath him.
“Manus,” she moaned.
“Say it again. Over and over until it’s burned into your memory, my pearl.”
“I am yours.”
Lightning struck, and thunder rolled at the same time. The storm crashed through the windows, banging the glass panes against the wall. Silver light illuminated Manus in small flickers of life.
She watched each flashing moment as if she wasn’t within her body as he pulled her nightgown over her head.
Manus’s neck gracefully arched as he pulled a rosy bud between his teeth. The muscles of his back flexed, creating hills of smooth skin like swells of great waves. His fingers dug into the aching muscles of her spine. She bent at his request, allowing him further access to play across the dips of her body.