Page 116 of Storm and Sea

“It’s okay, Nyel,” she interrupted, her voice soft as a passing tide.

“Is it, though? The last time I saw you, I busted out of the house like a rogue barracuda and left you alone with our parents.”

She smiled sadly. “Yeah. That sucked.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.”

They swam to the goatfish pen, watching Ripple patrol around the school, his antenna working to keep the fish in line.

“It did hurt my feelings. We’ve always been good friends, but a part of me still hoped it would lead to something more one day.”

Nyel glued his gaze to the collection of fire coral climbing the side of the house. Someone had broken the branches off several of the poor creatures. He analyzed them, unable to look at her.

“After that day, I realized that’s all we were. Friends, and that’s okay, Nyel.”

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure, according to my mother, it’s a sin.”

She laughed. “No, it’s not. Sure, I cried a little, but I’m glad we can still talk like this. I’m glad we’re still friends.”

She reached for her tail and twisted in a cutely nervous gesture. Nyel laughed internally as he pictured a human running their fingers together. It was the same motion, yet so different.

“I’m glad we’re still friends too. I wasn’t sure,” he confessed.

“Of course we are, silly. But I never realized how much pressure you were under. I should have seen it sooner.”

“Doesn’t make it right. What I did. I’m sorry, Chel.”

“Apology accepted. Plus, it all worked out. I’ve been seeing Wyll.”

“Wyll? From the farm on the north side?”

“That’s the one. It’s been going really well.”

“Chel, that’s amazing. Wyll is a good guy. He comes from a good family. I’m sure he will make you happy.”

The mention of Wyll brought a flood of familiar images to Nyel’s mind. Wyll’s family was known across the region for their pristine oarweed fields, cultivated with care and precision for generations. They were hardworking, close-knit, and fiercely loyal to each other. If Chel was looking for stability and kindness, she couldn’t have chosen better.

“I think so, too,” she said, blushing. “And that’s why what happened is okay. We wouldn’t have made each other happy.”

It hurt to hear her say it, but it was true. It would have been a match made out of obligation and tradition, not love. And a Bond? Nyel doubted one could have ever taken hold between them—not when he didn’t love her.

“Have you—you know—with Wyll?” he asked awkwardly.

She shook her head, long green fins swaying. “No, not yet. But it’s been going so well. I’m sure a Bond will click any day now. It’s just a feeling I get.”

Nyel reached for her hand, giving it a single quick squeeze. “That’s awesome Chel. Wyll’s a lucky sireno.”

They swam around the cage, rounding the back of the house, when they spotted both their fathers talking. Nyel couldn’t hear what they were saying, but both wore concerned, heavy expressions. Their tones were urgent, mouths moving fast as though time were running out.

“What is that about?”

“You haven’t heard?” She shook her head. “Of course you haven’t. You’ve been on the land. Which is crazy, by the way, but I’m not here to lecture you on that.”

“So what’s going on?”

“The kelp is dying.”

Nyel gawked at her, positive he heard her wrong. “What do you mean it’s dying? We’re in the middle of growing season; it should be booming.”