Page 60 of Depths
“Are you?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “And how will I be doing that?”
“I’m here for a token. A lady always gives a knight a favor before a joust on land, doesn’t she?”
His hand reached for mine, and his fingers played with the tips of my own, drawing the attention of those around us and making me—of all ridiculous things—feel nervous. I felt a sense of nervous anticipation, of giddiness, just like I had in Evaness when Mateo had led me down that dark corridor. I had the feeling that giving Keelan a favor would bond us somehow, like this moment was important. But if I gave him a favor, what would the others think?
I stared up into Keelan’s amber eyes, weighing my options. Finally, I whispered, “What kind of favor do you want?”
His gaze trailed over me, and my stomach grew taut in anticipation, particularly when those playful eyes of his darted toward the tiny undergarments that Gita had placed beneath my ribbon skirt. But Keelan didn’t speak immediately and looked down after a moment. “I’m so tempted right now,” he said with a sigh. “I literally feel cleaved in two.” He bit his lip as he met my gaze once more. “Part of me wants to take your underthings and parade around with them on display like my own personal banner. But the other, more serious, much smaller part of me knows that would actually be a horrid idea. So … despite myself, I’d like to request that your ‘favor’ is to allow me to sit with you so we can get to know one another better.”
My heart swelled. That was a favor I could grant. I tilted my head to study him more closely. A slight blush rose on his cheeks. Was he nervous? Was he worried that I’d say no? Who could say no? He’d been honest, funny, even sweet. I shook my head, and immediately he shot out of his seat.
“I’m sorry. I presumed—”
I stood and took his hand, guiding him slowly back down. Once we were both seated, I didn’t drop his hand, but held it, to emphasize my point. “I love your suggestion. I’d be glad if you’d watch the first hour of the tournament with me.”
He gave a shy smile that was so unlike his normal, confident grin that I couldn’t help but love him all the more for it. “To be honest, this competition is as intimidating for me as it is for you,” I confessed.
“Intimidating.” He gave an exaggerated scoff and then immediately swapped his careless expression for one of wide-eyed seriousness. “It’s terrifying.”
“I’m terrifying?” I asked, wondering what he meant and which of his two responses was earnest.
“You’re not evil, which is in itself terrifying because I worry that it’ll pop up at any moment.”
We both laughed, though we both knew there was a darker truth to his statement.
“But you’re also … not what I expected.” Keelan shrugged. “I’ve never courted a sea sprite. But as a queen, I thought you’d be more demanding. Issue orders right and left.” He lifted our fingers to make a hut, then flipped them over and interlocked them, waggling his fingers like seaweed in a current so that I was forced to waggle mine.
“Hmm … you want more orders?” I asked as he started a game where his fingers tried to trap mine and I had to slide my own quickly away.
“Oh, no. Definitely not. I’m no good with orders.”
“You were a soldier.” Amusement colored my tone.
“Yes, and I quit.” He quirked a brow.
“Is it that bad in the military here then?”
He shrugged. “It might have been. Before.” His fingers trapped mine, pressing them down into my palm as he leaned close. “I have a feeling that it’ll soon get better.”
We stared at one another for a moment before there was a very pointed cough behind him. I looked up to see Sahar glaring daggers at her son.
“You’re supposed to be stretching.”
“Pfft.” He shrugged a shoulder, but he did drop my hand.
“I thought you told me you needed time to warm up.” Sahar didn’t drop the topic but kept her furious gaze on her son.
“I am warming up … to Queenie.” His smile was all teeth, and an annoyedhumphissued from Sahar’s lips before she sat down next to him.
There was an uncomfortable moment before a loud horn signaled the start of the competition. I turned and realized that the stands had filled completely while I spoke with Keelan. Vendors now prowled up and down the aisles with clam kebabs and goblets, huge bladders full of bubble strapped to their backs. Siren children sat atop their fathers’ shoulders. Groups of mermaids floated together; banners painted to cheer for whichever contestant was their favorite.
Keelan had at least three banners. I pointed one out to him, and he stood and pointed right at the girls in the crowd. Squeals erupted and he chuckled as he took his seat again.
“How do they even know which of you to cheer for?” I asked him as we stood for the opening announcements. He grabbed my hand again, this time subtly, as though he didn’t quite want his mother to notice.
His answer was matter-of-fact instead of playful. “Traveling minstrels are making a fortune off us. They go from tavern to tavern. Even heard a few of us have sketches making the rounds.”
Fascinating. “Some of you. Not all?”
