Chapter 1
Fuck but it’s freezing up here, Nicolò thinks to himself for the hundredth time as he explores the North Sea. Booker had been right it seems; there wasn’t really anything exciting to be found around here. Just…cold and unpopulated, as far as he could tell. Although, there might still be a few wrecks to explore, something of interest he thinks optimistically. He hates having to go home empty handed, Booker wins enough bets as it is. Maybe these English, or whoever had been unfortunate enough to have their boats sunk by the English had left something he’d never seen before. Something Liguria doesn’t have.
There is much the underwater kingdom doesn’t have.
The light of the day is fading above, turning the water beautiful hues of orange and pink around him. It will be dark soon, not that that makes any difference to Nicolò. In fact, it will be easier, swimming home by night, the water ways are clearer and it is easier to see humans whilst avoid being seen by them. His may not be able to understand how his parents can hate humans so, when they create such beautiful things, while consigning mermaids to beings of myth and good fortune. But his parents are right about one thing, surprisingly enough. Humanity is getting more and more industrious. The oceans are busier than Nicolò’s childhood, meaning he can’t swim as close to the surface, or hug the coastlines as often as he’d like.
But the fishing vessels will have turned tail and headed home to port by now, since they are so soon to lose the light. Meaning Nicolò is free to enjoy the sunset properly, a rare treat. His father keeps an unfairly close watch on him, given that he’s not even the heir. Sebastien’s mouthy when he’s drunk.
As he looks up, the shadow of a large ship passes overhead. Larger than any fishing boat. More like from the time of the Armada. He remembers that, not too long ago, remembers that they’d be allowed to watch the great convoy of ships heading to attack this damp little island. His father had been insufferable, pointing out how humanity was intent on murdering each other. But he’d never gotten the chance to get this close before. And this ship was alone, no escort. Hmm. Two crabs, one stone.
“What’re you doing?” he asks, swimming after it, treasure hunt abandoned. He gets close, but stays low, because if anyone’s close enough to the railing, they still might see him.
Ducking under the ship, Nicolò hugs the bottom and with a quick glance to make sure the coast is clear, breaks free of the water, hoisting himself up the wood and the netting handily stored along the side till he reaches a curve in the architecture where he can watch, unobserved.
“We’re going to lose the light soon,” a woman’s voice floats down from the deck. She’s speaking low, obviously not wishing to be overheard and Nicolò winces at his unintentional eavesdropping, hearing naturally better than humans. He cranes his neck and he can see her, on the opposite side of the deck, leaning over the rail. There’s a sweetness to her face, he decides, though her anguish at their situation is clear. “We’ll have to turn back. There’s no food left, Yusuf, we’ll have to resupply anyway. And a storm’s approaching”
She’s right, Nicolò can taste metal on his tongue and the water below the ship grows fizzy with anticipation. The man beside her, who is taller still, with thick dark curls sighs.
“You try telling her that, Nile” the man replies sadly. He turns suddenly and Nicolò shrinks back, curving his body to the shadows. And then leans forward once more. Blessedly, the man is looking towards the mast, rather than Nicolò’s hiding place. Because it’s the most beautiful man Nicolò’s ever seen. Even from here, Nicolò can see those entrancing eyes, warm and gentle despite his own apparent pain. He’s tall and lithe, muscles evident beneath the worn shirt. Even for merfolk, Nicolò’s always had exceptionally good eyesight and he makes full use of it now, drinking in every detail of the two in front of him. They look to be about his age, as much as merfolk age. Nicolò reached maturity decades ago and Booker, indulging him, says that if they were human he’d probably be in his late twenties or early thirties by now. They could be the same age, if Nicolò was human, he notes with pleasure. Yusuf, the woman named after Egypt had said. His name is Yusuf.
What has happened to bring them all the way out here?
“I’ll go this time, Andromache” Yusuf calls to a third person and when Nicolò can tear his eyes from Yusuf, it’s to see a woman with long dark hair and haunted features. She looks like a goddess. Beautiful and terrible and old all at once, though she can’t be much older than the other two.
That’s when Nicolò realises, something he couldn’t place before. There’s no-one else on the ship. A crew of three? On a ship this large?
“No, Yusuf, I- “her voice is hoarse but insistent. As Nicolò watches, Yusuf crosses the deck towards her, kneels where she sits, knees tucked up to her chin.
“Andromache. You are exhausted. Sister, please. Let me do this for you. I will go” Yusuf places a gentle hand on her knee when it’s clear the touch is welcome. There is such a kindness in his face as he speaks, offering to shoulder her burden with effortless grace. He burns so brightly, so strongly as he comforts her that Nicolò forgets all about his sunset. He has found another sun.
Wait a moment. Go, where?
And then Nicolò sees precisely where as the man scrambles up onto the rail, turns to the ocean and dives straight in.
Vaffanculo! Is he crazy?!
The water’s freezing, the sunlight is dying, the storm’s going to hit any second and this beautiful idiot just jumped in! Of his own accord! Nicolò dives after him without a second thought. What do these humans think they’re doing, looking for treasure in this weather?
What treasure could possibly cause such great pain at its loss?
As Nicolò leaps clear of the ship, because apparently Nicolò’s luck really is that bad, the lightening illuminates the world with blinding bright light, as the crack of thunder booms around them. It’s beginning.
“Yusuf! Yusuf come back!” Nile screams. The girl has sense, the water’s choppy now and even Nicolò is beginning to struggle, tail thrashing as he hurries after the other man. They’ll lose him to the current soon enough. There’s another crack, a real one this time, right on top of them and the sky turns orange.
“Lifeboat!” Andromache’s voice joins the cacophony above, their situation shocking her to action “Nile, lifeboat, now”
Even Nicolò knows they only abandon ship when there won’t be any ship to hold them up anymore.
But he doesn’t think about that, pushes it down because he’s so close to Yusuf who is swimming down to the ocean floor, of all things. He’s going to see you, he’s going to find out what you are, a voice that sounds like his father berates Nicolò but he argues against it. He will be alive. I will have done some good, and then I will leave and stay far away, at home for five hundred years.
Even as he edges closer, he can see how Yusuf is struggling, the lack of oxygen and pressure starting to take its toll.
The sunlight is dying, Nicolò thinks again. He’s not really sure what to do, should he wave, grab hold? In the end, he clasps at Yusuf’s shoulder and the man jolts at the foreign contact, spinning around. Nicolò smiles as earnestly as he can but it has the wrong affect, because Yusuf gasps at the sight of him.
Well, shit. That could have gone better. “We must go” Nicolò tries, in Italian, pointing at the surface. Yusuf can only nod, though the movement is sluggish. Leaving. Leaving right now. He latches onto Yusuf’s wrist and pulls, swimming as fast as he can. Air. Yusuf needs air.
Even going as fast as he can, progress is slow and when Nicolò looks back it’s to see Yusuf unconscious. No. No, no, no. Pushing Yusuf in front of him, Nicolò loops his arms round the man’s chest and pulls hard, dragging him out. They break the surface, and whereas Nicolò inhales sharply at the cold slap of the night air and the rain, Yusuf remains silent. Land, they need land. His friends will have to find him later. As long as he is alive to find.
Ignoring the ruins of a ship for the first time in his long life, Nicolò heads for where he knows the port is. There’s a cove, no-one will see them there. He can make sure Yusuf is alive and make a fire, the way Booker had shown him. They will see it.
Oh, fuck it. Even in their smaller vessel, he’d beat them there and back ten times before they catch him up. “THIS WAY” he bellows in English, hoping the women hear from the boat, “THIS WAY, BACK TO THE SHORE”
“Where is he?” Andromache screams, the lifeboat swinging dangerously as she twists, searching for Yusuf in the water “WHERE IS HE?”
“There, look!” Nile yells, pointing. Nicolò knows immediately, that they can see him, dragging Yusuf along through the water. “He’s heading back to shore. Yusuf, Yusuf, hold on! We’re coming!”
By the time Nicolò makes it to the shore, and has laid Yusuf well away from the water’s edge, the moon has revealed itself. Nicolò leans over Yusuf, checking for injuries. He’s even more beautiful up close. And cold.
“Yusuf? Yusuf, destati! Destati!” Nicolò props himself up awkwardly on his elbows, shaking Yusuf’s shoulders, wishing not for the first time that the stories about merfolk gaining legs on land were fucking true. He could carry him into town and ask for help and no-one would be any the wiser, if it were so.
He could meet Yusuf properly. Maybe see him smile.
“Come back, Yusuf” the English is thick on his unpractised tongue. “Come back to me, destati.”
Yusuf’s eyes open groggily, hand coming up to encircle Nicolò’s wrist and Nicolò exhales in relief.
“YUSUF?” It’s the women. They must’ve landed further away and now they’re headed this way, calling out for their lost comrade. “YUSUF?!”
Time to go.
Wrenching himself away from Yusuf, he is mercifully able to reach the water before anyone comes. It’s stupid and reckless (what else is new?) but he slides up onto a rocky outcrop, watching as the women tumble into the sand, laughing and cursing as Yusuf rolls over and vomits up half the ocean.
Laughing quietly to himself, Nicolò stays above water long enough to watch with envy as Nile and Andromache help Yusuf to his feet and lead him away, before returning below the waves, drying scales itchy.
“Fancy seeing you here”
And comes face to face with Booker.
“Sebastien!”
“Nicky” Booker returns, a gleam in his eyes, arms folded over the broad muscles of his chest. “What’re you doing here?”
“I – I was trying to win our bet” he hedges, which isn’t even a lie, because he was. And then he got distracted.
“Mmm-hmm” Booker’s smile grows, “And you what, thought bringing back a full sized human would do it?” he teases, throwing his head back in laughter at Nicky’s shocked “I would never”
Then, “You saw?” Nicolò asks, biting his lip. Booker shares his fascination with human technology and knows more about it than Nicolò, but still, neither of them have interacted with humans before because Booker might be a forger and a fixer, procuring human treasures across the seven seas, but even he’s never broken that law.
“I did” Booker’s smile gentles at the way the young prince is worrying his lip. Nicolò’s so good, he even finds the goodness in Booker, buried under his grief. Shame about his shit of a father. “Look you wanna rescue humans, I say good for you. They’re the ones with all the cool shit, lucky bastards. I just wonder how you’re going to explain it to your papa?”
“And when he asks what gave me the idea, what do you think I’ll say?” Nicolò glares knowingly at Booker, unperturbed.
“You sneaky bastard”, Booker laughs shakily, kicking closer to put a hand on Nicolò’s shoulder, looking proud. Nicolò just pulls a face “Well, that’s what you get for being so crabby, Sebastien” he retorts but doesn’t pull away. They’re best friends after all.
“No, no I sure as hell won’t be saying anything to anyone. The King will never know. You won’t tell him, I won’t tell him, I will stay in one piece. C’mon, let’s get you home”