Page 98 of Storm and Sea

It’d been almost a month since the festival, and Leo’s face showed no signs of trauma. But Nyel couldn’t forget the way Leo trembled. Atreus should know, and Nyel was tempted to tell him. But true to his word, he said nothing. Leo never broached the subject again.

“We’re on week seven of the season. The catches are at a record low. It’s… It’s going to get ugly come winter. Families will either go hungry or be forced to leave.”

Atreus didn’t have to say it; Nyel could hear it in his voice. Baia Vita was on the verge of becoming a ghost town—abandoned and lifeless.

“I wish there was more we could do to help.”

“There’s nothing we can do. Right now, we need to put our heads down and work,” Atreus said, tagging a red snapper and laying it in a tray of ice.

But that wasn’t true.

There was something they could do. As Mer, there was so much they could offer this place. The idea continued to fester in Nyel’s brain long after they’d delivered the day’s catch to the pescheria and settled on the upper floor for dinner.

Nyel pushed the marinated tomatoes around his plate, his mind too busy for food. Horace was deep in another one of his war stories, in which his Mer friend Kirill infiltrated enemy lines from beneath the water. Nyel had heard this one a few times and still loved it, pushing for more details about Horace’s Mer friend with each retelling.

“He was a witty son of a bitch. Always had something smart to say.” Horace laughed, then let out a series of frightening coughs.

“That’s enough exciting stories tonight, Nonno. Let me help you to bed,” Marina offered, setting down her fork and rising.

“Thank you, Gabriella. Make sure you leave my window cracked so Niccolo can come in. I don’t know where he gets off to at night.”

The cat, usually by the old man’s side like a shadow, had recently started vanishing at night and returning in the early morning. The feline was as congenial as a well-worn blanket on a quiet evening. He never hissed or spat. Never scratched or pinned back his ears.

That was… unless a certain someone walked within ten feet of him.

Nyel was that someone.

The feline only had eyes for Horace, tolerated everyone else, and harbored a special hatred for Nyel, no matter how many fish scraps he’d offered under the table.

“Nonno, you shouldn’t leave that window open at night,” Marina said. When the old man produced a heart-wrenching puppy face, she groaned. “Fine, okay, you win,” she relented, supporting his shaking frame out of the chair and down the hall.

When she returned, Marina and Giovanni engaged in a steady conversation about her plans for the Bayallon at the end-of-season festival. Giovanni worried that the village would be too out of spirits to get excited about the event.

“I’ll have to work extra hard to make it special!” Marina said with her usual upbeat attitude.

Atreus remained quiet, ever the wallflower. But Nyel couldn’t keep his exploding thoughts contained any longer.

“I have a question,” he blurted, making everyone pause.

“Go ahead,” Giovanni said, gesturing to him with his fork.

Nyel cleared his throat. “What if...What if there was a way to help the fishermen?”

Atreus’s fork paused halfway to his mouth as he stiffened.

“We are all ears, ragazzo,” Giovanni said cordially. “Though I believe all avenues have been exhausted. We’ve tried everything. There is no competing with those damned ships.”

“What if there was a way to herd the fish away from the ships and into the bay? Into our fishermen’s nets?”

Nyel could practically hear the alarm bells going off in Atreus’s head, but he ignored him. This was important, and Atreus needed to hear it.

Giovanni let out a big belly laugh. “What, like sheep? I’m afraid this island doesn’t have underwater sheepdogs. Fresh out,” he joked.

But Nyel wasn’t joking.

“Let’s pretend we did, though. Do you think it would help?”

Giovanni took a sip from his wine. “I’m sure it would, ragazzo.” He smacked his lips loudly, finishing the glass. “To have a young mind like yours. I admire your creativity. It’s an interesting fantasy to consider. But I’m afraid a fantasy nevertheless.”