Page 115 of 'Til All the Seas Run Dry

“Cursed, you mean,” Callum muttered.

The god cocked his head curiously. “Anything can be a curse in the right dose and from the right seat. I did not say you were cursed. But my answer does not change.”

A plaintive sound bubbled from Jory’s mouth, and Callum dropped her hand in favor of drawing her closer, wrapping his arms tightly around her, cradling her body against his own while she cried.

The old god was quiet, his head still cocked to the side, watching. His face was etched with concern, an eternity of concern, perhaps, and Callum realized that he had been worried after his daughter for every bit as long as Callum had been loving her, missing her.

“My treasure,” he said, stepping closer, resting a hand on Jory’s trembling back. “The fish cannot live among the birds. The birds cannot live within the depths. The seals can go between, but they cannot love an eagle and take it with them when they go.”

“I just wanted you to make him a skin,” she sobbed, her tears mingling with the clinging saltwater on Callum’s chest. “I’m not a seal. I’m a demigod. And he’s already immortal. He just needs a skin to come with me.”

“I told you, my precious girl. I cannot remake what has already been forged. I cannot remakehim.”

“So you’re saying I have to choose.”

The old god looked at Callum now, and Callum couldn’t help but feel as if every thought, every deed, every desire he’d ever undertaken or experienced was being leafed through like pages and studied. But then the old god smiled. It was a small smile. A reluctant one, perhaps, but Callum felt it like sunlight, warm and comforting and complete.

“If your love cannot bear a bit of distance now and again, is it really love at all?”

She sniffled, lifting her head from Callum’s chest. “What?”

The old god arched a brow at Callum.

Callum said, “You dinnae have to choose, Jory. You can live with me when you want and go to the sea when you want. And I’ll always be here when you return.”

She looked up at him, her green eyes luminous and bright through the wash of moonlit tears. “But I just got you back.”

“And you willnae lose me now,” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “My love for you isnae fragile. I’ve loved you every day since I met you, even when I believed you lost. I never stopped. There’s no end to how long I’ll wait for you, mo ghraidh.”

42

In the end, Jory went with her father, donning her sealskin and leaving Callum standing on the beach, his clothes torn and drenched. But he’d waved a strong arm high in the air as she had popped her seal head above the surface one last time to look back before he turned and walked back up the rise to the house.

She’d visited her sisters, her mother, spending her days weaving, laughing, and crying in turn, feeling as if no time had passed. She slept deeply at night in the velvety darkness of the depths, cocooned in her mother’s weavings, listening to the gentle sounds of her old life surrounding her.

On the tenth day, she bid them farewell, hugging them tightly and promising to visit soon, inviting them to travel to the Washington coast. There had been more tears and laughter, more promises and thanks. And then, as the sun set, her father had left her near where the sand gradually sloped up to the shore.

She felt her bones shifting, lengthening, like being stretched and remade as she crawled from the water, her skin draped over her back like a cape. She stood, feeling the chill of the night air against her wet skin as she stood from the surf.

Her eyes adjusted to the night above water, and there he was, sitting next to the water’s edge, his knees bent and forearms resting atop them, hands dangling casually.

“You’re here,” she breathed.

“Of course. I told you I would be.”

“Yes, but why are youhere? I thought you’d be up at the house.”

He shook his head, rising with a powerful grace to his feet. “I didnae want you to walk up the hill alone. Besides, I didnae want to miss a second with you.”

She moved closer, feeling as if she would trip over her own feet, unaccustomed to that feeling of clumsiness. The ground shifted under her as she walked directly into the chilled marble slab of his chest, feeling her body relax into him. His strong arms wrapped around her.

“How was home?” he asked against the top of her head.

“It was wonderful to see my family. I’d missed them.”

“But?” he asked, always so damn observant. He hadn’t missed the way her tone changed at the end of that sentence.

She sighed. “But it’s not home anymore.”