Page 25 of The Noble's Merman

“Kent!” She laughed so sweetly, and it released an unknown tension in Kent’s shoulders. “I’m not upset at you finding interest with someone of your own sex, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He smiled at her, huffing out a much needed sigh. “Oh, thank you,” he meant.

“But I am still worried about Father, and how exactly one would even go about having that sort of relationship with a merman. Meeting him occasionally on the beach like you have been is one thing, but… how would you pursue more than that? Not only with the complication that you’re both male, but you’re entirely different species?”

Kent shrugged. Her questions were the same as his own. “Now do you see why I think this has worsened my problems tenfold?”

“Absolutely.” She huffed a chuckle. “Further still, what happens come winter, with the snow and the cold? Sure, the beach is nice now while it’s summer, but how would you two ever find the time to meet when it becomes freezing outside? What do you propose you’re to do?”

Honestly, he had no idea. But she was right—how did one pursue a relationship with a merman? “I don’t know. I’ve looked into seeing if there was a way for him to become human, and while it might be possible, neither of us know how to actually make it so. Therefore, as of now, he can only remain a merman. But even still…” His mind was buzzing again—the gin kicking his brain around to and fro. Thinking any harder on something he couldn’t fathom the answers to would give him a headache. “How in the world do two human men even have a relationship?”

Katherine reached out to pet Kent’s shoulder. “They make it work. You can find a way to make it work.”

“How do you know?”

She gave a one-armed shrug. “I have some acquaintances with the same… proclivities. And they carry on with their relationships just fine. They don’t announce their love to everyone, of course, only to those who are trustworthy. But that does not mean they can’t live happy, pleasurable lives. Someone like you, Kent, shouldn’t even worry about such things, given your status as a noble.”

That sort of reassurance from his sister, the sweet voice she used, was always the one to lift his spirits, even when he felt his lowest. Somehow, she always knew the right thing to say. “I do believe you’re right, then.”

“You know what I think you should do, however?”

“What’s that?”

“Introduce me to him!” She laughed. “I’ve asked you once already. Don’t you think that perhaps now it would be a better time? Especially if you’re to become more serious with him, it’s only proper to introduce who you’re courting to the family.” She winked.

“Oh, uh, sure! I agree.” He laughed with her. “But, um… I’d have to let Mo know ahead of time that I would be bringing you along… and… well, nothing against you, but—I do enjoy the alone time we spend together…”

“Alone time?” She put a hand to her chin, raising one brow with an exceptionally devious grin. “Just what exactly have you two been doing with each other?”

His heart raced, cheeks feeling hot, and he waved his hands in front of himself. “Nothing of that sort! The most we’ve done is kiss!” He gulped. “Well, so far, anyway…”

That got her to laugh harder. “It makes me wonder—how does one bugger a merman? What are merfolk’s parts like? I mean, they don’t have legs, but perhaps it’s similar to a dolphin?—”

“Kathy please!” He hushed her, awkward laughter in his tone. “I’m afraid someone might hear us if we keep this up.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” she chuckled back. “Shall we head back inside?”

Kent nodded, his mood thankfully lifted since earlier. “Sure.”

Mo couldn’t stop thinking about Kent. Every thought that entered his mind—he must’ve been driving himself mad—Kent, Kent, Kent. No one in his entire life had made him feel the way Kent had, and every waking moment, he just kept thinking of what would happen when they were to meet again.

He’d had what he could say were ‘romantic’ encounters before—once with a mermaid and another few times with a fellow merman—but neither of those merfolk ever erupted within him the true desire that he felt with Kent. He’d learnt he preferred males sexually at least from his past experiences, but no merman ever enticed him with the right spark to pursue a lasting relationship. Though, he always thought there was something different about Kent, ever since the first time he heard his voice. And now, with what transpired yesterday—the kiss—he felt that lovely sensation in his chest stronger than ever.

He lay in his bed, cushioned with soft seagrass, staring up at the stone ceiling. He should probably get up and do something with his time since he wouldn’t meet Kent until tomorrow, but with so much on his mind, he hadn’t felt the desire to do much at all.

But his stomach was rumbling, and some squid tentacles from the city sure sounded like a good idea right about now.

Though if possible, I would rather have more of Kent’s cake…

And so, Mo grabbed a carry-bag with his coin purse and left his grotto, setting out for Portica again.

It was still rather early in the day; the warm sun shone bright through the clear waters. Schools of fish scurried past him as he made his way forward: red gurnard, cuckoo wrasse, seabass. Dancing along were also a handful of jellyfish, stingers flowing like tangling ropes behind them, emitting the most dazzling mystifying glow. He stayed careful, giving them space, and he swam on.

The central bazaar was just as busy as ever, and he figured he could take a gander around before he stopped at the food stall. Mahs was at their stall again, talking with a mermaid. It didn’t seem like the mermaid was there to purchase anything, however, instead was just making idle chit-chat. She smiled, bowed her head, and then went to sit down at the stall next to Mahs’s. It was decorated top to bottom in elaborate woven seaweed tapestries, some even hanging on poles displayed behind her seat. Ah, this must be a new vendor.

While Mo wasn’t too interested in spending the extra coin on a tapestry, he did think they were very beautiful. It took incredible skill to weave colorfully dyed seaweed into such detailed works of art—and not only art, but also woven scrolls and bound books of written word. Mo certainly knew how to write himself, but he knew how to etch, to carve, not anything like this.

“Who made these tapestries? They’re astounding,” he inquired. He was an appreciator of art, after all, and was curious.

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