by Megan Derr
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A week had passed. He had another six days left before the three months stipulated by the curse were up and the curse killed him. He could feel it in his blood, writhing, waiting. It should have been such a simple matter to find the prince alone somewhere, slit his throat with the black-bladed knife, and be free. He had killed numerous humans in the past, vile bastards who tricked or hunted merfolk, hurt them for reasons of greed.
And that, right there, was his problem. One week was a trivial amount of time, but it was enough to know that Prince Aimé was as innocent as Lana. He might have been human, but he acted like no human Seree had ever met. He stirred the same protective instincts as Seree's impetuous sisters … and roused feelings never before woken by a human.
Seree heaved a sigh and braced his arms on the railing of his little balcony, looking out over the ocean. Moonlight glistened over dark, calm seas, and the salty air was at once both balm and tease. His body ached constantly from being forced into an unnatural state, and it had gotten worse the moment he'd taken over Lana's curse.
The curse craved the human—one way or another. Seree did not know what to do. He might not have hated the human, but he was not in love, either. Had never been in love, even with another of his own kind. As near as he could tell, love was for fools. Look at what happened to his sisters whenever they went in pursuit of it, and his father was on wife number three and child number fifteen.
Seree shuddered just thinking about it and tried to think about something else. Like how to get out of the mess he was in without killing an innocent prince or himself.
Movement caught the corner of his eye, and he watched as Aimé slipped from the palace and down to the private beach behind it. He sat down in the sand with his legs bent, arms across his knees, just close enough to the water that the tide lapped at is feet.
Seree's skin prickled with awareness. It would be easy to slip down to the beach, lower the prince's guard, and bare his blood to the moon, give his life to the sea. It would take only moments, and Seree would be home before his sisters stirred from their slumber. Lana would never know.
His stomach churned at the thought, remembering a week of smiles and flushed cheeks, a young man who seemed so quiet, but clearly was filled with life. A man who looked sad when he thought no one was watching and rarely slept at night. Seree had thrown away too many opportunities to kill him, but could not make himself take this one.
Stifling a sigh, he abandoned his balcony and made his way down to the beach. Though he made no sound in the soft, giving sand, Aimé half-turned and saw him, breaking into a smile. "Seree."
"Highness," Seree murmured and joined him at the water's edge, standing so that the tide came up to his shins when it reached for the shore. "Can't sleep? You seem to struggle with that a lot."
"I was never much for sleeping at night," Aimé said with a shrug. "I manage well enough."
Seree turned to face him, one corner of his mouth tilting up in a half-smile. "It sounds like you have a restless mind."
For a single moment Aimé looked as though he was going to cry—but then he regained control, schooled his features, and only gave a shaky laugh. "My grandmother used to say the same thing. She said I reminded her of her father, who could not sleep without his wife beside him."
"Yes, my father is much the same," Seree said. "Though he is on his third wife. My mother was his first, but she died of illness when I was very young. His second wife died three years ago, attacked by—" He bit off the words 'a shark' and corrected himself to, "while she was sailing."
Aimé looked at him in dismay. "I'm so sorry! That must have been terrible for you and Lana."
"Harder for Lana; I was too young to remember my mother's passing well." Seree sat down beside him in the sand and finally surrendered any thought of killing the prince. He couldn't do it. His opinion of humans was not high, but he was not as blind as some of his fellows in thinking all humans were the same.
He had six days to find another solution, and if he did not find it … well, he hoped someone worthy took up his knives and his duties. Seree looked out at the ocean and tried not to let the fear gnawing at him take control. He had faced death before and managed to live. He would not let his grandmother's stupid curse end him.
"I was sent here as punishment," Aimé said softly.
Seree turned, surprised by the words—and yet not. The remote location, the simplicity of the 'palace', the lack of an army of servants, the absence of friends and peers… It all added up to something, he had just never quite figured out what. Punishment seemed so obvious, suddenly, but it had never occurred to him someone so sweet would be in that much trouble. "Why?"
"I'm an embarrassment to my family," Aimé said, and though it was too dark to tell, Seree was absolutely certain those fine cheeks had flushed again. "My grandmother was … eccentric was the kindest word anyone ever used. She was an only child and very close to her mother, my great grandmother." He licked his lips, looked at Seree, and then looked away. "My grandmother was also very close to me. She would tell me stories all the time about her mother, about growing up here—this is her 'getaway palace' as she used to call it. Anyway, her stories were always about my great grandparents. Her favorite was about how they met here, how her mother washed up on shore after a shipwreck."
The words made the back of Seree's neck prickle. Aimé glanced briefly at him again, then looked away, and the growing sense of alarm Seree felt increased. Before he could figure out what to say or do, Aimé continued, "She couldn't speak when they found her—my great grandmother. For two months she spoke without words, and my great grandfather fell in love with her. Then a witch appeared and tricked him away, and my great grandmother nearly died before he broke free of the witch's spell."
"How did he break free of it?" Seree asked, though he already knew the answer.
"A great ship set sail, the couple to be wed at sea, and my great grandmother, in her despair, threw herself overboard. My great grandfather saw, realized she was going to drown, and it broke the hold the witch had on him. He saved my great grandmother, who regained her voice, but it was too late for her to keep her human shape. Because, you see, she was a mermaid and had fallen in love with a human, and a cruel spell was her only chance to win my great grandfather and stay as a human at his side."
"And she returned to her natural form until her father the king took pity and surrendered her forever to the land," Seree finished. "Your great grandmother was Princess Beltana." He stared at Aimé and jolted at the expression on his face. "You know what I am. What Lana is—you've always known, haven't you?"
Aimé shrugged. "I wasn't certain with Lana. The shipwreck story was a bit odd, but the running away from home seemed honest. She seemed very comfortable as a human. But you …" He reached out and traced the warrior marks carved into Seree's cheeks. "My grandmother told me many stories of the warrior mages of the Deep. The marks, the colored blades, the ferocity in their eyes."
Seree pulled away, embarrassed and more affected by that light touch than he liked to admit. Ferocity of his eyes? What did that mean? Humans were so strange. "You're very clever, Highness. I never once had an inkling you knew me true."
"I was banished here because I believe in stories of merfolk—stories of the Deep, my grandmother used to call them. She begged my parents to promise that when she died her ashes would be given to the sea. They buried her in the royal tomb, but I stole her favorite necklace and threw it in the sea here. I hope that was enough. Do you think … anyway, that is why they banished me. I believe the stories and tell them to everyone. I'm the laughing stock of the court, and some of the nobles went too far in their pranking, and I … reacted poorly. People were hurt. I was sent here until my parents could figure out what to do with me."
He looked up at Seree, the desperate, plaintive look on his face nearly painful to look upon. "I'm not crazy, right? You are of the Deep? They aren't just stories told to a gullible gran
dson?"
Seree traced the lines of Aimé's face, unable to resist, soothing him almost as he might sooth one of his sisters. "Yes, prince," he said softly. "I'm a warrior of the Deep, marked and granted magic and meant to protect and serve the ten seas."
"Let there be no blood in the water, lest it be rightfully spilled," Aimé breathed. "That's what grandmother used to say."
Hearing his warrior vows spoken in Aimé's quiet voice was Seree's undoing. He cupped Aimé's face, tilted it up just so, and kissed him. His lips were soft, the softest thing Seree had ever touched. He twisted his fingers into Aimé's hair, held him close, and deepened the kiss to explore the warm mouth beyond those addictive lips.
Aimé shifted slightly, upsetting their balance, and the kiss broke as Seree fell to the sand. Aimé stared down at him, wide-eyed, lips wet. He licked them, and Seree was not certain how he was supposed to resist that, so he didn't. Instead, he dragged Aimé down and succumbed once more to the warmth and eagerness of his kisses.
It was far too easy to drown himself in Aimé, smooth his hands over the warm, pliant body that draped over him, score the fine skin with his sharp teeth. He ignored the stern voices in his head in favor of listening to every sweet moan and gasp Aimé gave him. The silly thing never wore much in the way of
