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“I’m not declaring myself or anything,” Andre chuckled, looking rueful. “So there’s no need to look so horrified.”
“Sorry.” Merletta couldn’t help chuckling as well. “But I don’t understand what you’re suggesting.”
“I’m suggesting we let everyone think we’re a couple,” Andre said bluntly. “Even though neither of us sees the other that way.” He gave her a disarming smile. “Which I genuinely don’t, just to make sure we’re on the same page.”
Merletta blinked at him. “Why would you want people to think it, then?” she demanded. “When you know how much danger it could put you in to be associated with me like that?”
“I’m not afraid for myself,” Andre said confidently. Although the sentiment might be foolish, Merletta could tell it was sincere. “But I am concerned for you.” He frowned. “Before my birthday, I hadn’t thought about how very vulnerable your lack of family makes you. If you could be considered connected to me—and through me, my family—in some recognized way, it might offer a measure of protection.”
Merletta was silent for a long moment, struggling with her emotions. Before Heath, she’d never thought anyone would see her romantically. One lingering look from him, one simple touch, had ignited her world like a thermal vent. And his very existence made Merletta sure she couldn’t live with a deception like Andre was offering.
But she appreciated the gesture more than words could say. Heath’s affection meant the world to her, but the friendship and loyalty she’d found with Sage, Andre, and Emil was no less unexpected, and no less precious. The idea that her friendship meant enough to Andre that he would risk his own safety for her temporarily robbed her of speech. If Heath’s presence in her life was like the searing heat of a thermal vent, the affection of her friends was like the constant glow of the plankton lanterns which lit the darkness of the deep ocean. Different in type, but just as beautiful.
“Are you sure you don’t want to be a guard, like your brothers?” she asked teasingly, unable to put her deeper emotions into words. “The protective instinct runs very deep, apparently.”
Andre smiled briefly, but his face soon became serious again. “Friends protect each other, too.”
“I know,” Merletta acknowledged. She looked at the sandy ocean floor not far below their fins as they swam. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the gesture, Andre. But I…just can’t. There’s so much I have to hide, so many secrets to navigate. I can’t live that kind of lie. I don’t want to.”
There was a moment of silence, and Merletta forced herself to look up, worried that she’d hurt his feelings. But he didn’t look offended.
“I understand,” he said simply. Unless she was much mistaken, there was even a hint of relief in his voice. “Just as long as you know we’ve got your back.”
“Thank you.” There was no volume to the words—Merletta was still a little dazed by it all. A sudden thought occurred to her, and she frowned. “Were you inviting me to see the records on that basis?” she asked quickly. “Given my answer, would it be better if I didn’t come?”
“No, it’s fine,” Andre said, sounding utterly unconcerned as he swept his dark hair out of his eyes. When he’d started the program a year before, he’d worn it short, like a guard. But he was letting it grow out, giving him a much less military look. “I really did explain it all to my parents, and they’re not angry with you.”
Merletta was skeptical, but their reception at Andre’s house supported his light words. His father wasn’t there, but his mother welcomed Merletta graciously, commenting that she was pleased to properly meet a friend of Andre’s. Merletta didn’t take offense at the subtle emphasis she placed on the word friend. She had the impression the older mermaid felt sorry for her, and although it stung a little, it was better than her being angry at her son.
When Andre announced that he was going to show Merletta the family record, his mother gave Merletta a very searching look. Merletta couldn’t tell whether it was because she felt sorry for the nameless orphan, or because she was suspicious that Merletta had some design on joining the family after all. But she said nothing, merely drifting along beside the pair as they swam through the house, emerging in a sparsely furnished study.
“Whoa.” Merletta raised her eyebrows. “When Sage called these slabs enormous, she wasn’t kidding.” One wall of the room was almost completely obscured by a huge flat expanse of stone which rested against it at a slight angle.
“Well, my husband’s family record goes back a long way,” said Andre’s mother proudly. “As far back as anyone’s I know. I suspect it’s as old as it can be—well, the record that is, not the slab itself. It’s been re-inscribed onto a new slab at least once, I believe. But as for the records themselves…I don’t think anyone kept them earlier than this. I understand there were several generations between the founding of the triple kingdoms and the development of our written language. As far as I know, the first names on this record coincide roughly with the first written accounts. So the family started recording their members as early as possible.”
She broke off, chuckling. “What am I thinking, talking about records lore with two trainees of the record holder program. You both probably know more about it than I do.”
Merletta smiled politely. Neither she nor Andre answered, and they clearly weren’t expected to—they weren’t allowed to speak about the content of the course with anyone outside it, and Andre’s mother must know that. But the older mermaid’s words niggled at Merletta’s mind in a way she couldn’t immediately identify.
“May I?” she asked, reaching out a hand toward the massive slab.
“Of course,” said Andre cheerfully. “It’s pretty sturdy, as you see.”
Merletta floated forward, her eyes dwelling on the family name inscribed at the top of the slab—Seawatch—with a crest below it. The first names were unfamiliar, clearly not in vogue anymore. She traced her fingers down row after row, noting where the names became more common.
Percival, one said. Merletta stared at it. Wasn’t that the name of Heath’s brother? She’d never come across it in a merman before. It certainly wasn’t in fashion in her generation.
The names branched out, reminding her of the spreading shape of coral, or of the trees on Vazula, but upside down—starting small at the top, and extending wider as it went down. When she reached the bottom row, about two thirds of the way down the slab, she touched a finger to Andre’s name, written in its place after all his older brothers.
“It’s beautiful,” she said politely. “And very impressive to go back so far.”
Andre smiled warmly, and even his mother looked proud of the family history she’d married into.
“I suppose you don’t have one of these,” the older mermaid said as she accompanied the two of them out of the study. “Is that why you wanted to see Andre’s?”
Merletta nodded, trying to sound unconcerned. “Yes, basically. I was always told that I was left at the charity home anonymously.” Never mind that she knew that to be a lie now. The near-stranger beside her didn’t need that information. “To have such history as that,” Merletta waved a hand vaguely toward the study behind them, “is a very precious resource.”
“Yes, it is,” the other mermaid agreed. “And one which we perhaps take for granted sometimes.” She cast a glance at her son, who looked sobered.
