Page 181 of Storm and Sea

More than he ever dreamed.

Because Atreus never dared allow himself to have a dream like this.

The fishing season was extended, and in less than a week, their yield tripled. No—quadrupled. Boats overflowed, nearly capsizing from the weight. Giovanni had to hire a few more young men to help unload the docks that were now buzzing with laughter. Atreus even caught a few overwhelmed tears from the sea-hardened men.

Non-local shops were swiftly boycotted, and within two weeks, many were boarded up. The stores were re-sold, lovingly restored to their original state, and placed back into the hands of islanders who cherished them. Mayor Gianfranchi even complained (with an ear-splitting smile) that he’d never been so busy. At this rate, the ships that marred their horizon would be gone. And the bay would become theirs once more.

The Sireni of Corallina had outdone themselves. Nyel told Atreus that nearly half their population had dedicated themselves to herding the fish away from the ships and into the bay. With the Mer openly roaming the island, they witnessed the direct impact of their actions as mainland stores shut their doors. Soon, Corallina’s crops would be safe from pollution.

And they all celebrated.

The people of Baia Vita were eager to show their gratitude, offering the Mer food wherever they went—bowls of pasta, fresh fruits and vegetables, and countless pastries. Nyel’s love of sugar was clearly not unique, as the Sireni devoured the sweets with delight, their hunger finally eased.

It was a time for joy. For rejuvenation and renewal. A time to reclaim what was theirs.

So why did Atreus feel so damn miserable?

He hefted an overflowing crate of mackerel until the wood splintered with a sharp crack. Fish spilled onto the cobblestones in a slick cascade, and the gulls were on them in an instant, shrieking and snatching the slimy bodies.

Atreus grinned. Usually, he would have been scolded for losing the fish. But they were so plentiful now that he even caught a few fishermen offering the gulls free meals.

“The sea birds are part of the island’s spirit,” they said with a sort of reverence that Atreus hadn’t seen in years.

Yet, as the boats returned to dock for the day, Atreus found himself wishing he could persuade the sun to stay in the sky just a little longer.

“You’re going to miss my excellent espresso,” Marina said over the dinner table.

“My mornings are ruined without them,” Atreus replied sarcastically.

“You’ll live.” She flipped her hair with a flourish. “And Nyel will get them all winter!”

“Yep, sure will,” Nyel said, then leaned over to whisper, “Along with the singing.”

Atreus must have been more downtrodden than he thought, for that only to encourage a mild grin from him. Nyel noticed and bumped their knees under the table.

“Hey, you okay?” he whispered.

“Oh yeah, sorry, long day,” he lied, shoving more salmon into his mouth.

Their conversation went unnoticed because of Horace’s animated storytelling, which would have been better appreciated in the theater. They’d tried to be gentle when telling Horace the truth, not wanting to excite the old man too much. But when Atreus dipped his hand into the kitchen sink, the old man shot to his feet with a shout.

“I KNEW IT!”

They’d laughed for hours, and Atreus spent the remainder of the night drying his hand with a towel and rewetting it a dozen times.

“Scales blue as the open sea,” Horace mumbled, daring to touch Atreus’s wrist. “Though not as dark as Kirill’s.”

After that, the old man aged backward by the day. Each morning, he sat in his chair outside and watched the Mer come and go through town. He’d even gotten into the habit of randomly stopping people and asking if they would dip their hands in the fountain for him. Every time he asked an actual Sireni, they smiled and obliged.

His stories (though they’d listened to them a thousand times) were filled in with even wilder details than before, and he told them as though they’d happened yesterday. Nobody stopped him. And nobody told him the stories of his dear friend Kirill were fables.

Because they weren’t.

And he’d known all along.

After helping with the dishes, something he’d never been able to do before, Atreus made his way to bed, settling in for what would be another sleepless night. His head barely hit the pillow when a voice called from the open door.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Nyel asked, stepping inside.