by Emma Hamm
“Come with me,” he grumbled.
They passed by the cobblestoned streets, deeper into the city where gravel and dirt dug into the soft skin of her bare feet. The people were less clean here. Their faces were streaked with sweat, and grime embedded underneath their nails and covered their clothing.
These people made fear dance across her skin with stings similar to that of jellyfish tentacles. Their eyes were hungry, black like a shark and bottomless like the deepest abyss. They weren’t on the main street for a reason. She didn’t think they had enough money to feed themselves, let alone buy all the wondrous things the vendors had showcased.
A man walked towards them and his eyes traveled from her toes to her head. He let out a slow hiss of breath, a high-pitched whine of a sound that made her flinch. Manus lashed out a hand. He caught the man by the throat and tossed him into the wall.
For a moment, she wondered if they would claw at each other as merrow men might have. But something in Manus’s gaze made the other swear and stumble past them.
“Manus?” she called out. “I don’t like it here.”
“Yeah? No one does, my pearl. Get used to it.” He ducked through a door and left her standing on the street.
Saoirse rubbed her arms and swallowed hard. Why was it suddenly cold here? The streets had been warm, full of sunshine and bright smiles. Now, a chilled wind brushed down her arms. It coiled in her palms and whispered dangerous secrets in her ears.
Manus opened the door again and held out his hand. “It wasn’t a request, Saoirse. Follow me at all times.”
She bristled at his tone but followed him. The street was a dangerous place, and the shadows moved in the corners of her eyes. She didn’t want to know what kind of Unseelie lurked in this desolation.
The room beyond was only half full of men and women in various states of disarray. Some women bared their shoulders, something Manus had told her never to do, and others were more sensibly dressed. The men were all covered in dirt and sweat, much like those on the street.
Manus pointed towards an empty table near the large hearth merrily crackling. “Sit there.”
She would have to tell him later how little she appreciated his tone. The worn boards were smooth and soft, trailing warm grains against her soles as she made her way towards the rickety seating. Sliding onto the bench, she set her back to the crowd and stared into the fire.
Some things were different here. Far more different than she ever could have imagined. Some humans were wealthy, some were talented, and some were so painfully poor it made her heart ache. Why would they let their own people waste away? Or worse, continue to live a perpetual existence of hardship and strife?
Saoirse shook her head and let it drop into her palms. Maybe someday she would understand them, but for now, it just made her head pound.
The bench across from her creaked.
“Manus, I don’t want to be here,” she murmured. “I want to go home.”
“That’ll depend on which home you mean, lassie.” The voice sang out, dancing through the air like the trickle of gold coins with the heat of lava pouring from deep sea vents.
Her spine stiffened. Something deep inside of her recognized that kind of voice and answered its call with the burbling of water, the roar of rushing rivers, and the thrum of hidden sea caves.
“Who are you?” She looked up, anger burning in the back of her skull.
The man seated in front of her was surprising. His sheer size was not what she expected although everything was different here in this land. A white shirt strained across his broad shoulders, tapering to a trim waist that spoke of hard labor. A light dusting of freckles spread across his sharply angled face, meeting the hairline of his shockingly red hair.
He wasn’t dressed like the others here. His clothing was finer, his hair neatly trimmed, and no hair graced his jaw or chin.
But she wasn’t all that surprised that he stood out like a sore thumb. All Fae did.
“I think you know I’m not going to tell you my name,” he said with a wry grin. “I won’t expect yours either.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I could ask the same of you, little merrow.”
Her hands clenched on the table. “How do you know what I am?”
“It’s not hard to tell. That hair shines green even in this golden light, and you’ll forgive me for saying, but a faerie is far easier on the eyes than a human.” He leaned forward, interest coiling like a snake within the depths of his dark green eyes. “Now, why are you here?”
“I followed my heart.”
“Your heart?” He pointed towards Manus, whose back was still to them. “That one?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, little merrow, that was a foolish decision. Humans are entertaining for a time, but they’re always disappointing.” He leaned back, anchored a shoulder against the wall, and hooked his heels on the table. “Speaking from experience.”
“My decisions are my own, and I would prefer it if you kept your opinions to yourself.”
“Ah, where’s the fun in that lass?” His booted feet shifted side to side. “Do you have any guesses yet?”
"On what?"
“What do you think I am?”
She scoffed. “That’s hardly a challenge, leprechaun.”
“It is for some. My size is rather confusing, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Not at all. Tuatha dé Danann are large, Lesser Fae are not. It’s why you and I are both similar sizes to humans, although,” she paused and looked him up and down, “you are larger than most men.”
“The largest of my entire family. It’s a personal accomplishment I’m rather proud of.”
“I don’t think you can give yourself credit for your size.”
He lifted a finger to his lips. “Come now, lass. Don’t break a man’s heart.”
“I don’t have time to quarrel with a leprechaun about the size of his flesh. Begone with you.”
He wiggled, presumably to make himself more comfortable on the bench. “Not interested in that option. I think I’ll stay right here and meet the paragon who caught the attention of a merrow.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
Saoirse desperately wanted him to leave. After the way Manus had reacted to the artisan, she couldn’t imagine what he might do if he saw this behemoth of a man sitting in his seat.
The leprechaun gracefully gestured, his fingers dancing in the air until suddenly a golden coin appeared between his fingers. It sparkled in the light and forced all her attention onto the single piece.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Where did you get that?”
“Just a trick of the light, lass. Now, would you mind answering a few questions for me?”
She couldn’t stop staring at the gold coin as he rolled it over and through his fingers. Strange, she didn’t feel like herself but didn’t mind in the slightest. The coin was too interesting to care that her mind was wandering.
“Good,” he continued. “Why are you really here?”
“I followed him across the seas.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“He was shipwrecked off my home. I saw him floating in the water and thought he drowned. My heart hurt at the thought, so I saved him.”
“Did you heal him?”
“I don’t think so.” She frowned. That was something important she should remember, but she didn’t.
“Try again, little merrow.”
“I might have. I didn’t want him to die, but he wasn’t dead when I grabbed him.”
“But you healed him when you brought him back to the isle.”
“Perhaps a little? Just with merrow tears, and they aren’t supposed to do that much.”
He cursed, but it didn’t matter. The coin spun over his fingers that flicked so quickly it looked as though they were their own wave.
“Those heal more than you know, merrow. What would you do if I tried to take you from him?”
“I
would fight tooth and claw. And if you succeeded, then my heart would rip in two and my blood would meet the waves.” She reached out a hand hesitantly, waiting for the moment when the coin would stop. “May I have it now?”
It stopped, hovering just between his middle finger and thumb. “Are you sure you want it?”
“Yes.”
He arched a brow. “Just how young are you?”
“I’m close to my first century. May I have it now?” Even she heard the petulance in her voice.
“Oh, lass, you are a young wee thing aren’t ya?” He spun the coin until it laid flat across his knuckles. “Take it, and I’ll give you my name.”
“I don’t want your name.”
“A leprechaun coin is a promise, little one. I’ll watch over you as best I can, whenever I can, but you take this coin and I’m as much a part of you as that man hovering by the bar looking like the world is falling down around his ears.”
Saoirse hesitated. “I don’t want to belong to anyone else.”
“You won’t. You have my word.”
She nibbled her lip, but the golden light was far too compelling. Saoirse lunged across the table and snatched it from his fist.
The coin was warm and heavy, the metal almost soft beneath her fingertips. Its beauty was almost painful so close to her eyes. Etched on the surface, a small merrow swam through golden waves.
Saoirse let out a soft, pleased sigh. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “My name is Declan.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Declan. My name is—”
“Saoirse.”
She blinked, looking up at him in surprise. “Yes. How did you know?”
“It tells me a lot more than you’d think.” Declan nodded towards the coin in her hand. “You’ll have to keep it on you at all times. Leprechaun gold is bad luck if you lose it.”
“Oh,” she breathed. Saoirse pressed the coin to her chest and held it tight as if her own fingers would let it slip away without permission. “Does it want to be lost?”
“Not as you might think.” He leaned forward, the ever-present grin on his face. Saoirse noticed that his teeth were slightly pointed. A little of the real leprechaun was leaking through the glamour he held in place.
“Then I shall be careful with it.”
“You sure this is the path you want to walk, little merrow?”
She nodded firmly.
“All right then,” he said with a disappointed glower. “I’m not going to say I like it. So, you keep that coin with you at all times. If something bad happens, I’ll know.”
“Who are you?” she asked. “You don’t speak like the others, and you wouldn’t be here unless you were banished and yet….”
“Yes?”
The roguish grin on his face sent a shiver running down her spine. “You don’t seem like you were banished.”
“Let’s just say I’m on a little adventure from my home. It’s important to get perspective on the world, wouldn’t you agree?”
“But who are you?”
She searched his gaze for an answer, and her own memories for anything the merrows knew about the leprechauns.
They were traditionally a very secretive lot. The dwarves enjoyed their riches, but leprechauns were a completely different race of Fae. They bled riches. Gold ran through their veins like blood, and gemstones dropped from their eyes like tears. Everything about them was a mountain of wealth and glory.
Leprechauns kept to themselves. She knew there were a few lines of royalty although they were not recognized by the Unseelie court. Saoirse remembered rumors that stretched under the waves.
A prince of the leprechauns, incapable of being controlled by his parents, so wild and free that even the beasts wanted nothing to do with him. They sent him to the human world to learn humility, and to appreciate their origins.
She had heard nothing since, and it would be hard to tell if this was the prince himself. After all, every leprechaun had red hair, freckles, and were built like gods.
Unless….
At her raised brow, his grin widened just enough to reveal a solid gold back tooth.
“It’s you,” she whispered. “You’re the leprechaun prince?”
He winced. “Not my favorite name to go by, but if you must.”
“I’ve never met a prince before.” Saoirse leaned forward, keeping her voice hushed so no one could overhear them. “Am I supposed to curtsy?”
“Please don’t.”
“But I’m supposed to?”
Declan glanced away, and that was all the answer she needed.
“My goodness!” Saoirse lost her breath. “What other things have I done that would get me killed in the Unseelie court?”
“There are several things, little merrow, but you’ll find we’re far more lenient than our Seelie brethren.”
“I’ve heard they’re much more invested in rules.”
“Aren’t you part of the Seelie court?”
“In a way. My merrow tribe lived on the edges of both kingdoms, but so far away that the customs didn’t carry with us.”
He breathed out a low whistle. “You’re one of the rare wandering Fae? A creature not dedicated to either court?”
“I suppose you could say that. I didn’t know we had a name.”
“You’re more dangerous than I thought.”
Two jars slammed down on the table between them. Saoirse recognized Manus’s hands, strong and scarred, wrapped around the glasses so firmly she worried they might break.
“Dangerous, is she?” he growled. “I think I could say the same for you, mate.”
To his credit, Declan did nothing other than shrug. “It’s not every day you meet someone like her, now is it?”
“And why’s that?” The dangerous edge to Manus’s voice stole the breath from Saoirse’s lungs.
“Oh, I think you know why considering you stole her from the ocean and dragged her to this hell on earth. Shall I call you her husband or her captor?”
A snarl twisted Manus’s lips. “I'll ask you leave, friend.”
“But your little lady friend here has made such a good impression. I’ll give you one warning because I like her.” A coin appeared between Declan’s fingers. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
“I think I know perfectly well. A pretty boy like you walks into a bar like this, and he usually gets his teeth readjusted.”
Declan nodded with a feral grin that bared teeth sharpening by the second. “So be it. Heads? Or tails?”
He tossed the coin into the air and Saoirse watched it wildly spin between the men. Something important was happening. Something she couldn’t understand but knew she should.
It was there, bubbling just underneath the surface of her mind. If she could just reach it, then she could stop whatever was going to happen. But she couldn’t remember, something to do with a guardian, and with the longing for waves that crashed through her mind until she couldn’t think of anything at all except—
Saoirse lunged forward and snatched the coin from midair.
Time slowed. The other people in the bar leaned forward in anticipation but their eyes didn’t dance the way they had. Declan slowly turned his head towards her, and that pointed grin spread impossibly wide.
“You’re smarter than you look,” he mouthed. “Good luck. And if you have need of me, remember the coin.”
She blinked, and time started up again. Manus lunged forward. His hands closed around empty space where the leprechaun had sat only moments ago. The coin in Saoirse’s fingers disappeared. Vanished, just like its owner.
“Bloody hell,” Manus grumbled, running a hand over his head. “What was that thing?”
“A leprechaun.”
“What?” His eyes grew wide. Slowly, he sank onto the bench in front of her. His hands were shaking again. “Tell me you jest.”
“What’s wrong with leprechauns?”
“They’re cursed creatures! And you—” he paused, lunged
forward, and turned her hands over. “You touched the coin. It’s not still on you is it?”
“No.”
He must have heard the hesitation in her voice. His gaze snapped towards her, narrowing at her innocent expression. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“The coin is gone, Manus. I touched it, but it disappeared with him.”
He searched her eyes for a lie that he would never find. Faeries couldn’t lie. With a sigh, he slumped back and let her hands drop to the table.
Saoirse sipped at her own tankard of ale. She lamented the frailty of humans and their foolishness. Manus knew faeries, he understood their ways, and even he did not consider she might twist the truth.
The merrow coin heated against her sternum, a reminder that the leprechaun had left his mark, whether Manus wanted him to. There would always be a bond, an undeniable connection.
She didn’t want to wonder why she took the offer. Manus could protect her, he had been all day. But there was still an unease that settled deep within her stomach. This wasn’t her homeland, and she knew nothing of their ways.
It would be good to have her own kind looking after her.
“We should just go home,” Manus grumbled. He tossed the tankard back and let it slam down on the table. “Let’s go.”
Manus stared at the rotting roof and wondered why it had taken him so long to get here.
He’d made a promise, and he prided himself on being a man of his word. So why hadn’t he shown up on this doorstep weeks ago?
Because he was also a coward, he admitted to himself. The thought of telling Arturo’s wife he wasn’t returning tore at Manus’s soul. It wasn’t fair. Of all the men to survive that wreckage, Arturo should have been that man.
Instead, his body lay at the bottom of the sea. His bones were likely picked clean by fish and those merrow men who still haunted his nightmares. It wasn’t a fitting end for such an honorable, good man.
What was he going to say?
“Your husband was the best man I’ve ever had the pleasure of sailing with,” he tried. “No, that’s not right. I wasn’t in love with the man.”
What else could he tell her? Arturo was like a brother and it was a damn shame he wasn’t here anymore.