Page 14 of Drown Me Gently

Auren rolled his eyes. “Gods, how romantic.”

“It has been this way since the beginning. A pact between my people and the gods,” Ulric said, turning away. “We don’t all get to chase foolish dreams.”

Ulric’s gaze swept the space. His attention snagged on the sculpture again—the familiar shape of four long legs, arched neck, and a flowing tail, all formed from twisted leather and discarded rigging.

“I like the horse sculpture,” Ulric said before he could stop himself. “How long did it take you?”

Auren blinked, caught off guard. “The what?”

Ulric realized the mistake too late. Of course, Auren didn’t know what it was.

“That,” Ulric said, nodding toward it. “The creature.”

Auren tilted his head, still watching him. “You know what it is. You said it’s called a harss?”

Ulric hesitated. “It’s pronounced horse. And I’ve seen one. Once. On land.”

Auren’s eyes widened. “Have you been to the surface⁠—?”

Ulric cut him off, sharper than he meant to. “Just get home before it gets dark.”

Auren stared at him, something unreadable flickering in his expression. But he didn’t push.

And Ulric didn’t explain.

He turned before he could say something he’d regret, slipping into the water’s gloom.

Leaving behind the shimmer of human scraps.

And the Mer who never looked at the deep.

Only the sky.

Auren lasted a week.

A week of torture, caged in palace walls. Surrounded by polished lies and thinly veiled deceptions. The only thing that kept him sane was Elias’s silver silk, twisted into a braid down the side of his hair.

He wore it every day.

From the moment it touched his hands, Auren hadn’t been able to let it go. The scarf was soft as breath, the scent of humans, of Elias, still clinging in its fibers. Auren twined it into his hair with careful fingers. A token. A symbol. Something he could press between his fingertips when the world grew too heavy.

And he did. Often.

When the throne room felt too suffocating, when the elders’ voices buzzed in his skull like biting sea gnats, he found himself reaching up, fingertips brushing that silken thread like it could free him.

He let himself daydream.

About the human.

About the way Elias had looked at him with wonder. Not fear or violence, as his mother and Ulric would have him believe. But something akin to worship. Like Auren was something special. Not a prince, not a pawn, not an heir to anything but the moment they’d shared on that ship’s deck.

It had only been seconds. But Poseidon, it had been enough to spark something inside him that Auren hadn’t known was missing.

Elias’s eyes saw through the glamour of court titles and duty-bound obligations and saw him.

And it made Auren feel… dangerous things. Hopeful things.

He’d never felt that with any Mer.