Page 72 of The Noble's Merman

At least it was more entertaining than if they were to sit in silence.

“When was the last time you’d seen your mermaid?” Kent asked Seth one day. The three of them were all sitting together on the wooden floor, arranged in somewhat of a circle.

“Hmm, perhaps a week or so before you came on board,” said Seth.

“So not even that long ago?” Such a notion excited him, making his heart leap. “Do you expect her to come again somewhen?”

“Most certainly, I’d hope so!” Seth laughed. “I figure she must’ve gotten lost with how we’d changed course. She should be back around, though. She wouldn’t abandon me; I am her dearest friend.”

That warmed Kent’s heart, but then—an idea popped in his head. If Wenta were to meet Seth again… “I wonder if she is somewhere nearby? And if my merman friend Mo has seen her?”

“Now there’s a thought! Perhaps he has, then?”

“Good thinking, Fareham,” said Allen, patting Kent on the shoulder.

“You’d mentioned you saw Mo in the water yesterday, I believe,” said Kent. “What if… what if you asked him about Wenta next time you go above deck?”

“I’m not supposed to say much to the merman, but…” Seth put a finger to his chin, “I suppose I could try to slip a word in. Those two must’ve crossed paths by now, right? Swimming around down there, they must’ve. Yes—yes! I’ll do it.”

Kent smiled. “Perhaps… if Wenta knows the crew already, perhaps she could help persuade Young to let me above deck? Just for a moment. All I wish is to see Mo’s face again.”

Seth’s lips puckered in a pout. “I don’t know about that. Young seems to be very strict about you, to ensure nothing goes wrong with this plan. But I suppose there’s no harm in asking.” He shrugged.

“I have a feeling you’ll see Mo again sooner than you’d expect,” said Allen, giving Kent’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “He’s very protective of you, and I know he’ll take any opportunity he can get if there’s a chance to see you again, too.”

“It all depends on what Young agrees to, then.” Kent sighed. “Thank you, Allen. In truth, I do wish us all the best.”

“Of course, of course,” said Seth. “Next time I see your merman, whenever that may be, I assure you, I will ask.”

Mo slept on Noon’s back, taking a mid-morning nap since he felt like he had nothing better to do. Every time he went above the surface, scouting the pirate ship for even a glimpse of Kent’s face either above deck or through the windows, he was always met with disappointment. There was one pirate that spoke to him: a tall, thin young man with a sunny disposition and jet-black hair. But he didn’t tell him much other than reassuring him Kent was safe, before Captain Young shooed him away. It was something, at least. To hear anything about Kent that confirmed he was still prospering settled any nagging thoughts that relentlessly dug into his mind.

Though, even if there were a case where none of the pirates decided to speak to him, something swirling deep inside himself communicated to him that Kent truly was safe. He didn’t have to wonder if the pirate was telling the truth—no, Mo knew Kent was fine. It was magic connecting them together. Love and devotion in its purest form, linking them heart to heart. He’d told Noon of what he was feeling, and she confirmed that indeed, it sounded exactly like what he was looking for to become human.

As he slept, he dreamt he was a human again. He was back in England with Kent, walking side-by-side with him, hand-in-hand, on that familiar lonesome stretch of beach of the Solent. He even wore the same sort of clothes as Kent, yet his feet were left bare, feeling the warm pebbles under his toes. How was it possible that it all felt so real? How did he already know how to use his legs, walking effortlessly, as if he’d been doing it all his life? The dreams occurred nearly every night now.

If only he hadn’t lied. If only he had been honest from the beginning, telling Kent he was a siren?—

“Mo, wake up.”

Noon’s voice stirred him, yet as his head was still weighed down by his thoughts, he couldn’t open his eyes yet. One of his arms was bent under his head like a pillow, and he petted her smooth back with his free hand. “Ah… what is it?”

“You have a visitor.”

“What?”

Instantly, he pushed up on his arm and sat up.

Right there in front of him was a mermaid. A mermaid—who?—

—who bare a striking resemblance to Allen with her long, fiery orange hair.

“Well, good morning,” she said in mer-tongue with a curious smile. “I need to know: who are you? And what are you, a siren, doing trailing my ship?”

Mo blinked. “Your ship? Pray, this is my ship!”

The mermaid’s smile faded, cruelly evolving into a menacing glare. “Seas, no, she isn’t! If you dare try to use your Song on that ship, I will bare my claws and cut your tongue out of your mouth personally!”

Mo’s jaw hung open. It took him a moment in his groggy, after-nap haze for his mind to catch up with what she just said. A siren. “Wait, no, you have it all wrong!” he clicked. “My beloved is on board—a human, himself. I shan’t dare use my Song and put his life in danger.”

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