Page 46 of The Noble's Merman

Mo’s heart raced, holding his hand to his chest. He couldn’t help a ridiculous grin from spreading on his face. “Are you serious? You don’t have to—I don’t wish to burden you. We’ve only just met.”

Noon gently shook her head, so subtle, but it nearly pushed Mo back from the force of her massive size. “You are of no burden. I have assisted merfolk like this in the past, and every single one has been nothing but kind to me, no matter who they were. I assume you are the same, with how you approached me. From what I can guess by your appearance, I am much, much older than you. I have seen many things.”

“I suppose so. I am but only twenty-five years old. I’ve never been away from home for that long before, so I deeply appreciate it. From the bottom of my heart,” he clutched onto his carry-bag’s strap, “thank you. Thank you so very much. What can I ever do for you? You are doing such a large favor for me without knowing me at all, so there must be something.”

“Tell me stories from on board the ship. That is all I ask.”

“That really is all?”

Noon let out what sounded like a laugh, deep and booming. “Yes. Humans are fascinating to me, and I will never tire of hearing the outlandish things that they get up to. It brings me immense joy.”

“Then I shall gladly tell you each and every story.” Mo laughed back. “I already have quite a few. One of the humans on board, he’s…” What could he call Kent? His friend? His companion? His beloved? Such a strong word seemed too much to admit at the moment, especially to a creature he barely knew. “He’s someone dear to me, whom I care about. He’s what’s called a surgeon: someone who can heal and repair another’s body with use of knives, stitches, and bandages. You know what those are?”

“Oh, I know. I know much more than you could ever realize.” Noon boomed again, another chuckle.

It appeared as though Mo had just made a valuable and important ally for this journey. He wouldn’t take her for granted. He laughed as well, swimming alongside her as he kept an eye on The Sterling Mer above them.

On board the ship, Kent was shown where his quarters belowdecks were by the quartermaster himself, Edward Walker. As quartermaster, the only one with more authority was the captain himself. If men had any personal issues, they were to refer to Walker, first. Walker had curly black hair pulled back in a queue and warm brown skin, though he wasn’t the only one on board with his complexion. All sorts of men of different shades worked on The Sterling Mer, and Kent smiled as he greeted each one, being led through the corridors.

Kent was blessed with a room of his own—a small space where he found his flower-print suitcase leaning against a short dresser. Next to it was a wash basin on a wooden stand, and then in the far corner a chamber pot. There was no bed in the room, however. Instead, there was a decently sized hammock, strung along wooden posts near the window.

“I really have this room all to myself?” Kent couldn’t believe it, when so many of the crew had shared quarters.

“Yes, be thankful!” Walker laughed. “The Sterling Mer is a large enough vessel to where the crew closest to the captain has their own spaces. Besides, my lord, you’re of nobility! And you should be treated as such.”

“Ah, yes, th-thank you.” Kent gave a sheepish smile back. While he didn’t want anyone to think of him as better than anyone else because of his status, he still appreciated the gesture. In fact, it was perfect—if Mo were able to join him here, they could have privacy. But Kent was hesitant to ask Walker that proposition; none of the crew had even met Mo yet, let alone had Kent admitted to the intimate nature of his and Mo’s relationship. So, he supposed he’d go about it slowly.

After continuing the tour of the massive ship with Walker, he was brought back above deck, and watched the men working on board. Captain Nathaniel Brooks stood at the raised helm—long blond hair flowing in the breeze under his feathered tricorn hat. Next to him was Thomas Allen: tall, broad, and handsome with striking orange hair, and appearing to be in his mid-thirties, like most of the crew. Allen was the same one who’d asked if Mo was a siren at the meeting, and Kent learnt he was the sailing master. Davies was talking with a few of the riggers tying knots on the sails, and various other mates scurried around in a spectacular dance. For the next few months, this ship was to be Kent’s home. And damn, if he wasn’t excited for what was to come.

But the most important part of this journey had yet to properly join him. Kent walked to the starboard side and leant against the railing, looking into the water. The vastness of the ocean was breathtaking, as the ship pushed through, creating white foam waves on the sparkling sea of blue. Waves, waves, waves. The ship bobbed up and down, wave after wave, and—it made Kent’s stomach bob as well. That was something he forgot could happen. Sea sickness.

He held on tight to the railing, steadying himself. At least he was at the edge, so if he had to vomit, he wouldn’t make a mess. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to at all, though.

Instead, he tried to focus. Where is Mo? They’d agreed to not meeting until the ship was quite a distance away from shore, but hasn’t it been long enough? Though, Mo was most likely busy of some sort, figuring out his surroundings underwater, or even just finding food. Kent couldn’t help but worry; what if he was in danger? If something happened to him, there was no way for Kent to help, and the thought of that frightened him tremendously.

But Mo was a merman. He knew the water better than anyone else—it was his home. He would be fine. Kent walked over to the port side, in hopes perhaps he’d see Mo from there.

Alas, his merman wasn’t there either. Calm down, calm down. His heart raced as his stomach did another flip. He held his grip tighter on the railing to steady himself, knuckles going white. I won’t vomit. I won’t. But anxiety only made the nausea worse, kicking his insides over and over, churning and churning. He squinted his eyes shut. He grit his teeth. He sucked in a breath through his nose?—

“Kent? Kent! Over here!”

He quickly opened his eyes. “Mo? Mo, is that you?” It could only be him; no one else on board would call him by his Christian name. He knew his voice, that smooth, deep melody that sang with excitement. Kent scanned the area, looking back down into the water?—

There Mo was, sticking his head and shoulders out of the ocean. The bright sun shone so beautifully on his wet, handsome face.

“I’m so sorry it took me so long!” Mo called out. The surface of the water was about a dozen or more feet away from the railing. “I needed to catch a bite to eat, and then I also met a new friend along the way.”

Kent raised his brows. “A friend? Was it another mer?”

“A whale, actually. I can tell you all about her.” He smiled sweetly—and Kent desperately wanted those rugged smiling lips touching him again already. “But to do that, can you see about me coming aboard?”

“Fareham, what on earth are you talking to—oh! Would you look at that!”

Davies came up to Kent’s side and peered over the railing as well. The boatswain’s dark brown hair was pulled back in a queue today, missing his hat. “Ahoy there! You must be Fareham’s merman.”

Even from this distance, Kent saw Mo’s face flush a little redder. He chuckled to himself at that. “Yes, I am,” said Mo. “Ahoy to you as well.”

“May we bring Mo aboard now?” Kent asked Davies.

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