Page 16 of Heir of Autumn
Namirah and Evander both stepped forward, bumping into each other as they crowded closer. On normal occasions, that might have earned Evander a whupping. Not today, though. Today was special.
Headmaster Shivers lifted the piece of candy to the empty space in their cowl. There was no smacking of lips as their invisible mouth opened, no clicking of teeth as they closed it again. The candy simply disappeared.
As one, we exhaled. Shivers could eat, but that only added more questions. Did they need to eat? Were they just pantomiming human behavior for our peace of mind?
From somewhere behind my ear came a pixie’s trembling whisper. “Where did the candy go?” Satchel was asking the real questions.
Headmaster Shivers clasped Sylvain’s shoulder in thanks, and with that, they drifted off. No, really, they actually did, stepping out onto the waves. And they just kept on walking, crossing the ocean like it was solid ground.
The song of a passing sky-whale broke the silence, beautiful, eerie, and haunting all at once. Very much like Headmaster Shivers, actually.
“Okay,” I said, turning to the others. I’d waited to speak only when I was sure Headmaster Shivers was out of earshot — not that we knew they even had any ears. “That was weirdly intense.”
“Agreed,” Evander said, shaking his head. “Did we know that Shivers could eat? You learn something every day.”
“But the candy,” Satchel said, flying out from behind my neck. “Where did it go?” He hovered closer to the ground, inspecting the rock in case the candy had fallen right out.
Sylvain clucked his tongue, moving his hard candy from one cheek to the other. “I hardly think it matters. They seemed very nice, actually.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Namirah said, arms crossed as she looked off into the horizon. “Maybe Headmaster Shivers appreciates a burst of sugary energy before a long day of fishing corpses out of the ocean.”
I laughed nervously. “Hopefully they aren’t here for the corpses. Maybe they’re just scoping the oriel out for the Withering, examining the local fauna. I mean look at those fish! They’re huge. Beautiful coloration on the scales, too.”
Namirah stepped forward, her hand on her forehead, protecting her eyes from the sun.
“Wait. Those aren’t fish. Fish don’t giggle.”
I looked again, and that was when I spotted the hair, the leanly muscled bodies, the mischief and laughter. My dream, and Sylvain’s sexy nightmare.
“Merfolk,” I breathed.
7
Merfolk!Real, live merfolk, right here in the oriel. They frolicked and flipped their hair in and out of the water, making it seem so warm and inviting. The four merfolk waved when they spotted us, swimming closer, their great, gorgeous tails bringing up more sea spray and froth.
The wind carried the scent of it, the taste of ocean salt on my lips. Taking a dip was starting to sound more and more like a good idea. And yes, there they were, Sylvain’s adversaries — a couple of mermen, too.
One was burlier, skin as rich and deep as mahogany, even more muscular than the specimen illustrated in Ermengarde Frost’s book. The one with longer tresses was slenderer, prettier, skin kissed by the sun, cheeks as ruddy as the auburn of his hair. Both beautiful, naturally, and only two examples of the sort of gents who lived beneath the waves.
I avoided Sylvain’s gaze, knowing that at least one of us would burst into laughter, except that our playful, jealous tryst was apparently the last thing on his mind. Huh. Did his muscles look tighter? Were things bulging more than usual? His chest was thrust out, his shoulders squared.
Gods, was he flexing? He was, wasn’t he? A little bit self-conscious, then, but also his quiet way of reminding me that his beautiful body was the one I was meant to come home to each night.
Honestly? Kind of hot.
“Come, pretty humans, sit down,” a mermaid said, the tanned blond one closest to the shore, the friendliest of them all.
Sit among them, eh? Right there on the rocky outcropping? I shot the others a cautious glance, but they only shrugged back. We were protected by the water-breathing spell, weren’t we? Surely these merfolk weren’t planning to lure us to our watery depths via drowning.
Besides, they were merfolk, and not sirens. Those were the type you really needed to look out for. At worst they’d drag us into the deeps. We wouldn’t suffocate, maybe, but our blood vessels would explode from the pressure.
I rapped the side of my head with the heel of my palm. Why was I thinking like this? We’d encountered enough friendly beings throughout the oriels. Well, maybe not in the Oriel of Earth, but those pixies in the Oriel of Air were pretty cool. They gave us food and we didn’t even die from explosive diarrhea or anything. I strode forward, taking the lead. The others followed.
“Seriously, sit down,” said the mermaid with a giggle, twirling her long blond hair. A string of pink pearls and seashells dangled from her neck, offering a little modesty for her admittedly voluptuous bosoms.
I smiled, venturing as close to the edge as I dared, even taking off my shoes. I sighed at the sensation of warm saltwater at my feet, dipping my legs up to the shins. Evander widened his eyes at me, perhaps surprised that I would be so daring.
But this was part of the entry on merfolk in Ermengarde Frost’s book. It wasn’t considered polite to stand above them, as if gloating over the fact that we had legs with which to walk on land. Sitting brought humans and other bipedal humanoids closer to their level. It showed humility and respect.
