Page 74 of The Noble's Merman

Wenta chuckled, placing a reassuring hand on Mo’s shoulder. “I’ll see what I can do. But first, I really do need to eat something; I’ve been traveling for some time. Mind hunting a little with me?”

TWENTY-FIVE

Another day, another morning waking up sore. Kent’s back ached from sleeping on the uncomfortable hardwood floor with nothing but a thin blanket to cushion him. Allen deserved taking the hammock since he was still recovering from his injury, and there was no way he could ask Seth to trade his own hammock for the floor. At least this was temporary, Kent kept reminding himself. He’ll have his bed at Fareham House to look forward to once back in England.

His father would pay the ransom, yet—what would he think of Kent for forming such a plot? Would he resent him for stealing so much money from his coffers? Take away Kent’s salary, as a means to pay off this ‘debt’ back to the earl? He thought that unlikely, given the situation and the reasoning behind it all. But every doubt that could enter his mind did, as the sloop John Beaut sailed forward, day after day.

How would he meet with Mo again? Could they still meet secretly on the beach, just as they did before? That wouldn’t be as feasible once the weather became colder, as snow would blanket the land and deadly frost bit his nose and fingertips. No, Kent believed, as he had this entire time, they would find a way for Mo to become human. If Mo had legs, he would find a way for them to stay together on land. Kent was sure of it.

But if he hadn’t become human yet already, what else did they need? What was the catalyst for the shift to take place?

Every time he thought on the subject, that same, warm, assuring magical pulse swirled in his chest again. The connection was there. Something was pulling them together.

But still, what would it take?

The three of them shared a small breakfast of crunchy biscuits and salted fish, as they had every day. Once finished, Seth decided to head above deck, leaving Allen and Kent alone in the room, sitting on the floor next to each other.

“I wish I could see Mo,” Kent mused aloud. “I know I say it all the time, but…” He brought his knees up close to his face, and wrapped his arms around his legs. “Oh, I miss him so much.”

“You shall see him again,” said the burly redhead. Allen rubbed his chin, now sporting somewhat of a beard from not shaving. Meanwhile, Kent’s own ‘beard’ was only a mere shadow of light stubble.

They shared a moment of silence as Kent continued to cook his worried thoughts in his head. Silence wasn’t anything that was bothersome, and there was more of it than voices if Seth wasn’t with them. But when Allen spoke again, he brought up something that surprised even Kent?—

“Do you think there’s something about Mo that you don’t know about?”

Kent lifted his head from his knees. “What? I suppose I couldn’t possibly know everything about him, as he would not myself, but… what do you mean?”

“I’ve been thinking… and I just can’t shake the feeling I have. Fareham, are you truly sure that Mo is not a siren?”

Kent’s breath hitched, and he swore his heart skipped a beat at the absurd accusation. “Of course, I’m sure of it. You heard him sing yourself; you were there along with all of us.”

“I was, and that’s what makes me wary.” His mouth pressed in a flat line. “Do you remember how when he was singing, you stumbled into his lap? It wasn’t just you who faltered, no, it was everyone nearby. Davies and Walker, too.”

“We were drunk. Of course we would stumble, especially if we all felt the ship sail over a hefty wave. That was all it was, I… I don’t…” He adjusted his position, moving his knees down and crossing his legs, stockings and shoes off at the moment. “What are you trying to say?”

“I didn’t feel any sort of wave. I stood perfectly still, as I watched you and the others stagger. It was… strange.”

Kent sat there, stumped. He didn’t know what to make of any of this. “How could we feel something then, and you not?”

“I’ve thought about this,” said Allen, rubbing his chin again. “Perhaps there was magic in Mo’s voice, and I was unaffected because of the mer-blood in me. I’ve heard that the Siren’s Song only affects humans, and technically, I’m not fully human.”

Everything he said sounded so logical. He really had been thinking of this ever since that night drinking rum on The Sterling Mer, but still, Kent had his doubts. “Mo told me he’s just a regular merman. There has to be another explanation. I still think it could’ve been just a wave, and… perhaps where you were standing you didn’t feel it like we did. Or perhaps we all just had more to drink, I don’t know.”

“I just wanted to bring it to your attention. That… in case I am right in this possibility, Mo may be lying to you.”

Kent’s heart clenched at the thought. He couldn’t help biting his lip, looking down at the floor. “But it still could’ve been anything. I don’t wish to think—think that he’d lie about that.”

“Fareham, even so, hear me with this.” Allen reached over and put a large, reassuring hand on Kent’s knee. He looked up. “You know Mo better than any of us. I know you two are more than simply friends, and I’ve seen you interact. I see the way he looks at you. He’s in love with you. There is no way around lying about that—those eyes speak the truth. You feel the same way for him, yes?”

Kent gulped, and he nodded, feeling that warm, wonderful, magical pulse in his chest once more. “Yes, I do.” He didn’t realize until after he said it, but there—saying this to Allen was actually the first time he admitted aloud, to any other soul other than to the merman himself, that he truly was in love with Mo. It solidified his feelings even more, giving them weight, holding his heart delicately.

“I believe Mo is honest in what he says, how he cares for you and will protect you at any cost. I don’t wish to cause doubts on that,” said Allen, giving Kent’s knee a gentle squeeze. “It was just something I was thinking, that I felt you should be aware of.”

Kent nodded again, placing his hand atop Allen’s. “Thank you.” He took a deep breath—in, and out. Allen’s suspicions sounded very logical, how perhaps something did happen that night and Mo lied about what caused it. But Kent didn’t wish to dwell on it. After all, during that moment, no one was injured, no blood was shed, and their ship didn’t sink. It was almost as if nothing happened at all. Also, Allen was right—there was nothing but honesty in Kent’s and Mo’s love for one another, and that, in itself, was enough. More than enough… it was everything.

Suddenly, the door to their small room flung open, nearly whacking the wall behind it. Seth stood in the doorway, with the biggest, genuine smile Kent had ever seen on his face.

“Fareham, come quick! The crew had a vote, and Captain Young has granted you access above deck for a moment. My mermaid friend Wenta is here, along with your merman.”

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