Page 104 of Storm and Sea

The lighthouse lay exactly as Atreus left it over two months ago. He carefully stepped around the shards of glass, cautioning Nyel to do the same. The rusted stairs groaned like a wounded beast as they climbed. He cleared the landing and— he was thirteen again—hungry, isolated, alone.

“The way you deserve to be.”

“Doesn’t look like anyone has been here,” Nyel observed, snapping Atreus out of his childhood.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Little dusty, though.”

“It just needs some air,” Nyel offered, cracking open a few of the windows and welcoming a pleasant ocean breeze.

Atreus watched him move from window to window. A few weeks ago, the latches would have stumped him. Nyel was adapting to human ways quickly—much faster than Atreus had. It was as though he was destined to be part of their world from the beginning. Loved by both humans and Mer.

“And neither will ever love you.”

“I need to check on some things,” Atreus said, cutting off the intrusive voice. “Are you okay to hang out for a bit?”

Nyel made an affirmative noise, sitting at the window’s edge, admiring the view. Atreus busied himself by taking stock of his possessions, which, now that he’d lived so long at the pescheria, he realized was mostly old garbage. He propped the mattress on its side for some ventilation when a sharp static sound made him spin.

“Sorry,” Nyel apologized, jerking his hand away from the dial of an old transistor radio. “I thought these things made music.”

Atreus smiled. “They don’t make music, but they do play recordings.” He knelt beside the small rust-colored radio. “You have to fiddle with this dial, then this one.” Atreus tuned the radio, working through the screeching static, catching a mumbled voice here and there before an upbeat family of instruments vibrated through the speaker. He patted it. “Voilà.”

A man’s voice boomed, his hearty base harmonizing with the instruments in a powerful vibrato. Even through the raspy radio, there was no denying that the man sang with all his soul. The words tumbled from him in a musical story of long summer days and a beautiful woman who stole his heart.

Nyel hummed along, picking up the melody. He stood abruptly, shoving his stool aside and clearing a space in the lighthouse.

“What’re you doing?” Atreus asked as his belongings were shoved against the walls.

Nyel didn’t reply until he was finished, then turned and held out a hand. “Dance with me.”

Atreus furrowed his brows. “I don’t know how.”

“Perfect. Neither do I,” Nyel said, his voice so light and easy that Atreus found himself reaching for the outstretched hand before he even realized it.

“I really don’t, though,” he repeated, clasping Nyel’s hand, unsure what to do.

“It goes like this. I think.” Nyel placed his free hand on Atreus’s opposite shoulder. “I watched the humans do it at the festival. And your hand goes here,” he added, guiding Atreus’s other hand to his waist.

Suddenly, the room felt impossibly small, as if he and Nyel were being crushed together by invisible walls. Atreus couldn’t help but notice the gentle slope of Nyel’s waist beneath his palm, even through the fabric.

He jerked away, the closeness overwhelming.

“This is stupid,” he said, stepping back, his heart hammering.

“Oh, c’mon,” Nyel begged. “I want to dance at the next festival. How am I supposed to learn without practice?”

A new tenor voice sang through the speaker, accompanied by a furious violin, making Nyel’s face light up.

“This song is perfect for it! Please, just for a minute?”

Atreus sighed, rubbing the back of his head roughly. “Ugh, fine.”

Reluctantly, he resumed his place, stepping close again, though the proximity still felt suffocating. His heart thudded in his chest as his hand found Nyel’s waist once more, the other gripping Nyel’s hand loosely. The space between them seemed nonexistent, and he was painfully aware of every point of contact.

Then came Nyel’s scent. It wasn’t the sharp, salty tang of the ocean breeze wafting through the window. No, it was something distinctly him—the soothing, clean notes of seagrass mingling with the brightness of sunlit water breaking through the surface. It filled the space between them, carrying the wildness of the open sea and something warmer, something alive. It settled over Atreus like a tide, quiet and enveloping, pulling him in deeper than he intended to go.

“Are you even listening?” Nyel said, glaring up at him with gold-flecked eyes.

“Huh?” Atreus said stupidly.