Page 80 of Storm and Sea

“How can you even say that?” he breathed with fracturing restraint.

“Because it’s so freakin obvious! They care about you; I’d even go so far as to say they love⁠—”

“Stop,” Atreus barked, silencing him. “You don’t know a damn thing. You’ve been here a couple of weeks and think you’ve got this all figured out, do you? Well, news flash: humans don’t adopt sea monsters into their families. To them, we’re a myth, and if that illusion ever breaks, they’ll hunt us down like animals.”

Nyel shook his head. “You don’t see the way they look at you.”

Whatever mirror he’s looking in isn’t sending back the right picture.

Nyel wished he could replace Atreus’s warped self-image with the one Giovanni saw, the one Marina and Leofel saw.

Or the one I see.

“You’re full of shit.” Atreus laughed mirthlessly.

Nyel stiffened. “Well, if I’m so full of—that, why even bother with me? Why haven’t you forced me off this island? You could do it. You know you could. Chase me into the sea. Force me to leave and keep Baia Vita all to yourself. So why haven’t you?”

Atreus let out a shaky breath with measured control.

“Because,” he said slowly, “I let myself get used to you.”

“Then why do you keep pushing me away? You want me here, or you don’t, Atreus, which is it?”

Atreus flashed him a venomous glare, abalone eyes blazing. “You’re making that decision very easy right now.”

Nyel huffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“There it is again. Pushing me back. Like you push everyone back. Those people care about you, Atreus. They care, and if you’d just let them see⁠—”

“Let them see what I am!?” Atreus yelled so loudly that Nyel jumped. “Let them see the monster that’s been working alongside them, walking the streets while their children play?”

Nyel set his jaw. He wouldn’t back down.

“Horace has already seen a Mer. He won’t stop talking about it. It wouldn’t be that big of a shock.”

“I hate to break it to you, but they all think he’s crazy.”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t accept you⁠—”

“How could the humans accept me when my own species pushed me away!?” His voice echoed against the rocks. “How can anyone care about me when my own kind call me a FREAK!”

Atreus shoved off the sand and ran. Ran into the water and disappeared beneath the surf. For a moment, Nyel stood alone, mute with shock. He was frozen in place with nobody for company except the twinkling stars.

When Atreus rose, his clothes hung in tatters, shredded by razor-tipped fins. They flared, the moonlight accenting every curved spine. His body was big, much larger than it had been as a human. A mosaic of scales sparkled in the light, glistening off the water.

Mixed scales.

Halfling.

Nyel’s breath caught in his throat as a wave of dizziness struck him. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t. How had he gone so long and never⁠—?

Atreus stalked closer, talons curved, tail swishing. Nyel barely resisted the urge to run, keeping his feet planted until Atreus stopped— barely a breath away. Nyel clenched his fists but couldn’t stop the tremble of fear rocketing through his body. He was at the mercy of Atreus now.

At the mercy of a halfling.

“How can the humans accept me when my own kind call me a bastard?” Atreus whispered, and Nyel scented his breath. It was the same scent of an oncoming storm. No, not oncoming. The storm was here, and Nyel could anchor himself and weather it or run.

“I’m a mutt. A halfling abomination because of who my parents were. Cursed.”