Page 11 of Saved By the Selkie

I hesitate. I should go back to Vati, to the haul-out. “You could give me my pelt,” I say. “I could take it and just slip away.” I glance toward the other humans. “They’d be none the wiser.”

Aramis looks at me for a minute, a real, long, hard minute, and my heart pounds in my ears. My entire body practically tingles as I look deep into his honey-colored eyes.

I’m terrified he’ll agree, that he’ll tell me to go get my pelt. I’ll have to go back to Vati.

“Come with me,” Aramis says, his voice rough, and I feel dizzy with relief. I bundle myself into the glider as quick as I can, practically tripping over my own limbs.

He feels it—he feels it too, my brain buzzes. Vati has always said that when you meet your mate, you just know, and I’m pretty sure that has to be what the strange tingling in my body is. That’s why I saved the human from the sea. Why I didn’t kill him and eat him yesterday.

He’s my mate. He has to be. That’s why all of this happened—why I fought with Vati, why I ran away, why I went as far away as I did, why I crossed paths with Aramis.

We’re ordained by the stars, and that’s why he’s asking me to come with him now, asking me to sail away with him.

I perch on the bench in the glider, looking into Aramis’s eyes again. And I know I could never say no to him.

seven

Aramis

I

really didn’t think that Lir was going to be so eager to sail with us, but the way he practically flopped into the boat, I think he was excited.

Maybe he’s trying to get away from something. Or someone. I don’t know much about selkies or selkie culture—it wasn’t really a myth I studied; I thought Mythos was full of dragons and buried treasure and stuff—but if they’re like seals, then they probably live in colonies.

Lir seems to be totally alone. I would have thought I would have seen at least another selkie by now, maybe one that lives just down the beach from Lir or a friend or someone who came looking for him or something.

But it’s just him.

I wonder if he got lost or separated from his family or something. Or maybe he’s an orphan? He seems pretty naive, I think, watching him as he peers around. His head is on swivel, watching the waves, the other boats, the seabirds overhead as we row out to the galleon.

He’s cute, my brain supplies helpfully, and my face turns hot. Anna eyes me as she hauls back on her oars, but I shake my head. I’ll tell her it’s the sun, the effort or something, rather than that I’m thinking the hulking, naked silver-haired dude who was marooned with me is cute.

I mean, I know Anna already has her suspicions. She’s smart, probably smarter than anyone else in the crew. She has to be—corsairs aren’t exactly known for being friendly to ladies, unless those ladies are serving wenches in bars or whores in brothels—and even then … No, if women want to run with us, they have to be better, faster, smarter, stronger—something.

It’s unfair, but Anna hardly complains. She just works harder. I wish I could tell her to take a break sometimes. But I’m not in much of a position right now either—the crew came back for me, sure, but why? I’m not buying Porthos’s explanation—he’s never been terribly superstitious.

Anna isn’t either, although I know she didn’t get along with Perry at all. That, at least, checks out. Johan was totally on Perry’s side, though, so I’m not sure what’s going on. Allegiances can be shifty creatures, so I need to tread carefully.

And even more carefully now that I’ve convinced the crew to bring Lir with us. If they find out he’s a selkie …

Well, I don’t know what they’ll do. I don’t like the way Anna’s eyeing Lir, though. Her suspicion practically rolls off her in waves. Every time she looks at me, it’s like she’s the Spanish Inquisition, grilling me for details.

And I know it looks strange, and I know the crew isn’t exactly pleased with me asking them to row this fellow back. I know bringing him back is likely going to make my position with the crew even more precarious—unless I want to reveal that he’s a selkie.

But what if they want to lock him in the brig or put him in a cage? What if they want to kill him and steal his sealskin? Or maybe they’ll want to make him lead us to the mythical Finnhaem, the crystal palace under the sea.

I’m not sure I could stand that. I wanted to sail to Mythos, sure, and I admit I didn’t have good intentions. I figured we’d raid a dragon’s nest and steal treasure. I was not banking on shapeshifting seal-people, and I definitely wasn’t banking on Lir saving my life.

I also know that if we get back to civilization without any proof of Mythos at all, my patron is going to be mad. I’m still trying to work out the plan in my mind—I have Lir’s sealskin tucked away in one of the sacks of coconuts, and I’ll stow it somewhere safe once we’re on the ship. I can just … show off the sealskin, maybe. Maybe I don’t have to reveal Lir himself.

Or maybe I do. Maybe he’ll do it willingly. We can have a conference and my patron will be pleased. Lir could be famous. I’ll be rich.

I’ll talk to him about it, I think, see how he wants to go about this. But I know I have to bring something back with me, to prove that Mythos is real and I found it. Without proof, I’ll just look like a lunatic.

We row up to the ship and the crew tosses down the ropes. We fasten them around the boats, then clamber up—except Lir, who looks at the rope with complete bewilderment.

“It’s easy,” I tell him. “You just grab on like this, then pull yourself up.” I demonstrate, then pause halfway up. “See?”