Page 75 of The Noble's Merman

Kent couldn’t believe his ears. “Truly?” He grinned back, the biggest grin he’d had in over a week, hastily reaching and scrambling for his stockings and shoes that were lying nearby on the floor, nearly slipping from his fingers from his frantic movement. “You speak the truth? I really can go above and see Mo?”

“Yes, now hurry!”

Kent’s heart pounded fiercely as he secured his stockings over his knees, fastened the bottoms of his breeches, and buckled his shoes. “Of course! I’ve been waiting—oh! I’ve been waiting to see him for so long. Thank you so much, Seth.” He stood, and decided that he was dressed enough, leaving himself in his shirtsleeves and cravat, his waistcoat and frock coat still on the floor.

“I’ll stay here,” said Allen, still sitting. “I’ll only slow you down. Go see your merman, you lovebird.” He looked up with a smirk.

“Thank you, Allen,” he said, looking down at him.

In a rush of movement, Seth escorted Kent through the forecastle and up the ladder, never leaving much space between them. Kent poked his head above deck and breathed fresh air for the first time since he came aboard and, at that moment, was the overwhelming scent of saltwater the most pleasing thing he’d smelt in his entire life. Seth nudged his leg, hurrying him to keep going, and Kent finally placed his feet on the floorboards of the upper deck. Once fully out, Captain Young made eye contact—he must’ve been waiting for him, standing only a few feet away.

Kent only had mere seconds of freedom before Young forcibly grabbed his wrist.

“The merfolk are waiting over here,” said Young with a rasp, tugging Kent over to the port-side railing. “You have a few minutes to say what you want to say, but that is all. I will hold onto you the entire time, to ensure you don’t do anything stupid.”

He was practically shoved into the railing, Young never taking his firm grasp off Kent’s wrist, when he finally saw the most dazzling sight. He had to blink—the hot sunlight was so bright reflecting against the water—and he rubbed his eyes with the back of his free hand, focusing with his one good eye as best he could on the two figures floating in the blue expanse.

Mo was there. Mo, in the flesh, smiled up at him, looking as handsome as ever. It really was him.

“Mo!” he shouted with excitement. The warm, swirling, magical feeling pulsed even harder, curling around his heart in an embrace. “You’re here! I’m here! Why, oh Lord, I’ve missed you so much!”

“Kent, I’ve missed you too!” Mo called out from below. “You must understand how much it warms my heart to see you again. All I’ve wanted is confirmation with my own eyes that you are safe.”

“We’ve told you as such,” said Young, reaffirming his grip on Kent with an uncomfortable squeeze.

“Though, even someone as great as you can understand the difference in seeing versus believing,” said the mermaid next to Mo, who Kent assumed was Wenta. There was something very peculiar about her appearance, and once he looked closer—it struck him. She had the same orange hair, same freckles, same facial structure as Allen. What the devil?

“Well, yes,” Young barked back at the mermaid. “That is why I am allowing this meeting in the first place. Carry on.” He nudged Kent without a care, digging his hips into the railing. He winced at the force.

“I’m fine, Mo, I’m fine,” he said, quelling the panic that was emerging in his merman’s expression. “I’ve just been sitting in a small room doing practically nothing. Allen is fine and doing well, too.”

Mo’s lips curved up in a smile once again. “That’s good. The coloring of your face is a bit darker, is that…?”

Kent rubbed his cheek with his free hand, feeling the rough stubble underneath. “Oh! I haven’t shaved this entire time. My beard doesn’t grow very fast, though. Never has. So it’s just a little bit.”

The sound of Mo’s laugh made Kent’s heart soar. “You look very handsome. What I wouldn’t give to be able to touch your face right now, and feel it for myself.” Wenta murmured something with a smirk to Mo, which was quiet enough (and likely in mer-tongue) to where Kent didn’t understand, and Mo chuckled back.

“I would like that very much,” said Kent. “It shan’t be long now, I hope, for us to arrive in England.”

“I hope so too.” Mo’s smile was relentless, gazing dearly at Kent.

I see the way he looks at you, Allen’s recent words rang in Kent’s head. Kent could see it too, and there was no mistaking the glimmer that shone in Mo’s ocean-blue eyes. Whether or whether not Mo was a siren played no factor in the love the merman clearly had for Kent; any and all suspicions drifted away as long as he could see that smile. He had proof of their love right here, right now, pulsing a magic force right inside his body.

“Something strange has been happening… Do you feel it too, Mo?” asked Kent, putting his hand flat on his chest.

“What do you mean?” asked Mo.

“As a human, I’ve never had magic within me, but this that I feel cannot be described as anything else. It has to be some sort of magic. And I feel it most when I think of you.”

Mo mimicked the motion, putting his hand on his own chest, pushing his sea crystal necklace out of the way. “Yes, I feel it. It’s a magic unlike any other. Noon confirmed with me that she believes it’s part of that connection we need. And that…” Strangely, Mo looked down, and his smile waned. He paused as he swallowed, then looked back up. “That magic will make the shift occur.”

Why the hesitation? Perhaps Mo was unsure himself, not knowing what else they needed for the shift either, just like Kent. But Wenta also gave Mo a curious look, asking him, “A connection you feel? ‘The shift’? Oh!” She smiled, then clicked something in mer-tongue. Mo nodded to her, and responded back in the same language. Kent realized then that he probably shouldn’t say any more, for he didn’t know how much the pirates knew of shape-shifting magic, or what they would do with that information. Mo and him could discuss it later, when finally back on land.

However, Young was getting restless, and he tugged on Kent’s wrist once more. “Wrap it up, wrap it up. I can’t stand this sentimentality,” he groaned.

Seth walked up next to Kent, leaning over the railing as well and eyeing his captain. “You deal with it perfectly fine from me!”

“Your sort of ‘sentimentality’ is different from what these two fuckers are showing.”

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