Archive of Our Own

It wasn’t quite dusk, but Ilya didn’t care about the rules anymore. He burst out of the waves like water from a whale’s spout and flopped onto his favorite flat-topped rock. If it were full daylight, he would have to show more discretion - he wasn’t too far from the shore, and a human would absolutely be able to see his large, powerful ice-blue tail where it draped over the edge. The sun was barely a crescent over the horizon, though, and darkness appeared to be rolling in fast. He should be safe.

Besides, the worst a human could do was kill him. His brother Alexei, on the other hand, would keep him alive and chained to the arm of his throne forever, delegating all the “boring” parts of ruling to Ilya so he could enjoy getting drunk and chasing women without interruption. Death would be kinder.

“Stop,” Ilya told himself, shaking his head. “Do not get caught in that current.”

Instead, he stretched out along the warm brown stone and let out a pleased hum when his back popped and loosened with the action. The last of the sunset was a wonder to behold, deep red and orange giving way to a rich, starry indigo. Was there anything that could compare?

Noise from behind his perch made him flip into the water instinctively and duck. Noise meant humans, ships, discovery. For all that he had just been contemplating getting captured, he’d still prefer to avoid it if at all possible.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to sneak a peek at the approaching humans. Ilya was fascinated by them. He could always hear laughter when a ship passed him by, always see people running and jumping and even dancing, if someone had the ability to make music. He didn’t know what any of the devices they used to play their songs were called, but he had a little collection back in his grotto of things he had collected from shipwrecks: cylinders with holes evenly spaced along their lengths, wooden shapes covered in strings that never lasted long once they were submerged, even a cask covered in some type of hide that was strangely satisfying to smack with his open palm. Maybe the breeze that had just started to pick up would blow something off of this boat that he could add to his treasures.

“Make full sail,” bellowed a voice from aboard the ship. Ilya leaned out just slightly from his hiding place, wanting to see the man who delivered the order, and oh.

Now the sunset had competition.

The last of the light radiated off the man’s strong profile, allowing Ilya to see his thick, dark hair, straight nose, and full lips. His white shirt and black trousers were close-fitting, highlighting tanned skin and muscles that must have been hard-earned from a life at sea. He wasn’t the tallest man on the boat by any means, but his commanding presence made him seem larger than life.

Ilya was entranced.

“We’re almost home,” the man continued. He grabbed a rope and hauled on it for a moment before tying it down, a maneuver Ilya could only assume was meant to help steer the ship where he wanted it to go. “We can outrun this storm, men! To your oars!”

A shout of Aye! rang out from the rest of the crew as most of them ran off. Ilya could see them disappearing into the depths of the boat somewhere, but he kept his focus trained on the beautiful brunet who was now at the wheel. The waves had picked up all of a sudden, making the boat tilt dangerously toward Ilya’s rock, then back the other way.

“Chiron!” the man called, waving a hand at a cute four-legged creature gamboling along the deck that seemed to be made entirely of short brown hair. Ilya didn’t think the man loosening his grip on the wheel was a wise decision with a storm blowing in, but a ship’s captain would surely know more than Ilya did. Right? “Below, Chiron! Now!”

The hairball - Chiron? - stopped and cocked its head at the man. Just then, another wave rocked the boat back toward Ilya, and a torrent of water sluicing over the side made both Chiron and the man lose their balance.

“No,” Ilya whispered, horrified, as the pair’s - what was the fucking word? - feet slipped out from beneath them and they tumbled into the churning ocean. The man managed to wrap Chiron in his arms as they fell, protecting the creature with his own body. “No!”

“Prince Shane!” one of the other men who had stayed up top cried, equally aghast. He ran for the wheel, his blond hair darkening and sticking to his forehead as the clouds broke open. “Chiron! Help them!”

The young-looking man fought to steady the ship as a dark-skinned man raced to the side of the ship and held on tight to the rail, clearly trying to see where Prince Shane and his beast had gone. 

Ilya didn’t wait any longer. He dove under the whitecaps and swam like a shark was chasing him, knowing he could find Prince Shane and Chiron much quicker than any humans would be able to. It was the work of moments to close the gap between them, another second to gather Shane into his arms and aim furiously for the shore. Chiron seemed to be alert, so Ilya only spared a moment to give him a quick push upward. A shout from above let him know the humans had Chiron in their sights.

Shane, on the other hand, wasn’t moving. His eyes were closed, and his lips were slightly blue around the edges. Ilya was sure that wasn’t how human lips were supposed to look, so he threw caution to the wind and broke the surface earlier than he would have preferred, making sure Shane’s head was fully above the waves. An isolated cove was only a few yards away.

“Please,” Ilya said as he got them both as far ashore as he could. “Please, Shane, breathe. For me.”

He braced himself on one arm and rested his other hand on Shane’s belly, rubbing it absently. It felt right to be in direct contact with Shane, even if Ilya couldn’t do anything more to help him.

Just then, water spluttered out of Shane’s mouth as he coughed and choked and gasped for air. His eyelids fluttered but didn’t open quite yet, so Ilya risked staying by his side for another moment, listening to his ragged breaths.

The storm had blown itself out as quickly as it had blown in, and the moon was starting to break through the remaining clouds. With its light, Ilya could see little brown speckles marking the tops of Shane’s cheeks. He moved his hand up to rub the dirt off, but they didn’t move.

“What are these?” he asked in wonder, stroking his thumb gently over the same spot. Without even thinking about it, he bent down to press a kiss to Shane’s brow.

Shane made a questioning moan in response. Ilya reared back.

“Who–” Shane’s eyes finally blinked open, revealing irises of a rich, warm brown. Ilya wanted them to suck him in like a whirlpool. “A-angel?”

“Shh,” Ilya said, already pushing himself backward into the water. The tide started dragging him away, allowing him to hide his tail under the foamy surf. He couldn’t turn around properly just yet, though, or Shane would definitely see what he was. “You’re safe now. No more storm.”

“No, wait,” Shane said, one hand sliding forward like he wanted to stop Ilya but didn’t have the energy to grab him properly. “I didn’t get your name!”

Ilya wanted more than anything to give it. Instead, he ducked below the surface and forced himself to sink as low as possible before turning and swimming away. For a moment, he thought he saw a familiar flash of orange to his right, but when he turned and blinked, nothing was there.

Of course there wasn’t. At the end of the day, Ilya was always alone.

— — —

Ilya hummed to himself as he puttered around his grotto, half-remembering a lullaby his mama used to sing to him sometimes. She was the one who had originally shown him this place, years and years ago, and he could still feel her presence in the oldest artifacts. Her escape had become his.

“You would have loved him, Mama,” Ilya said, straightening the collection of mini-tridents they had amassed over the years. It was fascinating to see how many materials the humans made these replicas out of: silver, gold, wood. Even the citizens of Atlantica didn’t revere the trident as much as the humans appeared to. “He was everything a prince is supposed to be. Handsome, caring, a leader. I wish I could have stayed with him. Seen his world.”

A long, slim shadow blocked the sunlight streaming in from the top of the grotto for a moment. Ilya looked up, startled, but he didn’t see anyone there. Frowning, he turned back to his treasures, running a long golden chain with a strange pendant - a vertical bar intersected twice at the top and once at the bottom by shorter horizontal bars - through his fingers.

“He’s here, Your Majesty,” came a familiar voice at the grotto’s entrance. Ilya quickly tucked the necklace under his tongue, not trusting his new guests for a minute. “Ilya.”

“Sasha.” Ilya matched Sasha’s flat tone as he turned to see his brother and his former lover enter his hideaway. As always, they looked a little ridiculous side-by-side, Sasha’s willowy build and bright orange tail contrasting sharply with Alexei’s stockier frame and deep green scales. “Brother.”

“I didn’t believe Sasha when he told me about this place,” Alexei said, looking at the treasures lining the round, brown walls with disgust. The grotto was like an overgrown piece of hollow coral, with all sorts of natural niches for Ilya’s collection. “A secret cave full of human trash that you and Mama gathered over the years? It’s absurd, even for you. I had to see for myself.”

“Fine. You’ve seen. Now go,” Ilya ordered. He had to fight not to accidentally swallow the necklace as he spoke, making him terser than he’d like.

“It’s like I said, Your Majesty,” Sasha interjected, looking at Alexei with insincere sadness. “All of this human nonsense is distracting him from his rightful place at your side. He cares more about these trinkets than our - I mean, your court.”

Ilya tried to protest, but Alexei was already lifting his trident. Unlike the miniatures Ilya had scavenged from the humans, this one glowed golden with power. When Alexei swept his arm to the side, all of the artifacts in his wake crumpled. Only shards and scraps remained.

“No!” Ilya cried. “Alexei, please–”

“This is for your own good, Ilya,” Alexei said, taking out another row of objects. “I thought you were outgrowing your childish fancies, but I was clearly mistaken. You will never be part of the human world. You are my brother, the prince of Atlantica, and it’s time you acted like it.”

If Ilya could have fought Alexei off, he would have, but the chance he might get obliterated by one of Alexei’s trident strikes was too high. He settled for hurling himself at Sasha and punching him in the jaw.

“I trusted you,” Ilya spat. He hit Sasha again so both sides of his mouth were bleeding, then continued, “I trusted you with my secret, and you betrayed me. Did you really think I would fall back into your arms after this?”

Sasha just smiled. “You will. You’ll realize I did this for you, and you’ll understand how much I really love you. I can be patient, Ilya.”

“The ocean will freeze over first.” Ilya whirled away and saw that Alexei’s rampage had stopped. All of his treasures lay in pieces on the grotto’s floor.

“Clean this up, then come home. This junkpile is unsightly,” Alexei said with a sneer. “I’ll be waiting, brother.”

Alexei and Sasha swam off, leaving Ilya with the wreckage. He popped the chain out of his mouth, then clasped the necklace - his last memento of his mother - over his chest. He’d figure out a way to hide it from them later.

“Psst. Kid.” Ilya jolted as a large black eel slithered down from the top of the grotto. He realized with another start that it was just the right size to have cast the shadow he had seen earlier. “That wasn’t right, what they did to you.”

A second, equally overgrown eel appeared alongside the first. “And that wasn’t right, what they said. You can be part of the human world. Our boss can help you out.”

“Your boss?” Ilya shot a skeptical glance between the two fish. “Who is that? Why would they help me?”

“She should really answer all those questions. Follow us,” the first eel said, starting to swim in the opposite direction of the palace. The second eel followed.

Ilya took a moment to debate his options. He could go back to Atlantica and his horrible brother and his scheming ex, or he could follow two eels to who-knows-where to hear some crackpot tell him how to become a human.

It wasn’t a hard choice. Ilya flapped his tail and sped after the eels, telling himself he was just seeing things whenever a flash of orange popped into his peripheral vision.

— — —

Ilya swallowed hard as he entered the dark, secluded cave behind the eels. Purple bioluminescence cast an eerie glow over the walls, and Ilya could see various bottles and jars lining the walls, all full of mysterious potions. One of the vessels belched a puff of pink smoke as he passed it, and he swam away hurriedly.

“Good work, boys. I’ll take it from here,” a smoky female voice purred from the shadows at the far end of the cavern. The eels - Cliff and Connors, they had told Ilya as they traveled - waited for the woman to emerge, then accepted loving pets to the tops of their heads.

“Thanks, boss,” they chorused as they disappeared.

“Who are you?” Ilya asked, taking the woman in. She had curly hair pulled up in a tight coif and glowing, light brown skin on her upper half. Her tail wasn’t a standard fish tail like Ilya’s, but a collection of inky black octopus tentacles with lavender undersides.

“You don’t remember? I’m Svetlana. I was almost your brother’s wife.”

The name was familiar, but her appearance wasn’t. Ilya cast his memory back. “Your tail was purple.”

“It was, but I made some…improvements,” Svetlana said, twirling her tentacles like a human woman showing off her skirts.

“You’re the Sea Witch,” Ilya realized as fragments of rumors all came together in his mind. “Alexei rejected you, so you swore revenge.”

“Except I rejected him, so your father had me banished,” Svetlana corrected. Ilya believed her without question - that version of the story made much more sense, knowing his father’s and brother’s temperaments. “How everyone in Atlantica thinks your brother is such a catch, I will never know.”

“Don’t look at me.” Ilya made a face. “You made the right decision.”

“Thank you, I’m well aware,” Svetlana said with a wry grin. “But that’s enough about me. My boys tell me you want to become a human. Why?”

Ilya bit his lip. “I’ve always been fascinated by them–”

“Try again. The truth this time.” Svetlana crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m in love with one of them,” Ilya blurted out. “Or I think I could be? If I could just be part of his world….”

“I can make that happen. But not forever - at least not to start with - and not without conditions.” Svetlana drifted off to her shelves, examining various containers before collecting a few. “Magic demands balance.”

“Which means…?”

“I can give you legs, but I’ll have to take something else away for the duration of the spell. Your sight, your hearing, something of that nature.”

“No. Neither of those,” Ilya said firmly. “How will I know I’ve found the prince if I can’t see him?”

“The prince?” Svetlana repeated. She turned her head over her shoulder to arch an eyebrow at Ilya. “Your tastes have clearly matured since I saw you last.”

Ilya flushed. “It’s not - I mean–”

“Relax. I’m teasing,” Svetlana reassured him, setting her jars on a nearby table and uncorking them. The contents went into a big black cauldron, which started spewing shimmery blue mist. “What about your voice?”

“My voice?” Ilya considered the idea. It would be awfully hard to get to know Shane if he couldn’t speak, but it seemed preferable to not being able to see or hear him. “For how long?”

“I can hold the spell for three days. No longer,” Svetlana said as she stirred. “If you do not receive true love’s kiss by sunset on the third day, you’ll turn back into a merman, and I will not be able to perform this spell on you again. If you do receive the kiss, you will remain a human forever.”

For a moment, Ilya’s heart thrilled in his chest. He just had to get Shane to kiss him? How difficult could that be? If he just explained…fuck.

He wouldn’t have his voice.

Still, he thought he could do it. He’d be able to gesture, and he could read and write a little. It was more of a chance than he’d ever been offered before.

“OK,” Ilya said. “OK. For three days, you can take my voice in exchange for giving me legs. I have until sunset on the third day to get Shane to kiss me, and if I do, I stay human with him forever.”

“That is correct.” Svetlana snapped her fingers, and a contract with the terms Ilya had just outlined appeared between them. “Sign here, and I’ll start the spell.”

“Wait. Where will my voice…go?” Ilya asked, not sure how to phrase exactly what he meant. Thankfully, Svetlana understood.

“I’ll store it here,” she said, pulling a golden conch shell necklace out from between her breasts. “This pendant is strong enough to contain the magic. But you’ll forgive me if I don’t actually wear this necklace while you’re gone - I don’t want your voice coming out of my mouth.”

“Reasonable,” Ilya said with a nod. “Neptune only knows what you’d try to say as me anyways. I’d never live it down.”

Svetlana cackled. “Don’t give me ideas. Any other questions? Concerns?”

“No.” Ilya reached for the pen and scrawled his name decisively along the bottom of the contract. The moment he put the tail on the a, he was caught up in a swirl of yellow and blue light. His voice felt like it was being pried out of his throat, while his fins and tail tingled as they began to separate at the bottom. He tried to breathe, but water rushed into his throat.

“Cliff! Connors! Get him to shore!” Svetlana commanded. Moments later, he felt two slippery bodies pulling at his arms, dragging him upward. “And Ilya? Good luck!”

He lost consciousness shortly after that final remark, orange streaking across his vision before the blackness overtook him.

— — —

Shane wandered down the shoreline, lost in thought. Ever since he had fallen overboard a week ago and subsequently taken years off of everyone’s life by turning up alone and on foot at the gates of the palace after miraculously washing ashore, his advisors had been pressuring him to do his duty and marry. If he had died, they said, the kingdom would have been without an heir, and then where would they be?

(Pointing out that he himself was technically still the heir didn’t sway them. Shane didn’t believe they’d be so bold if his mother was in residence, but she and his father had wanted a few more days at their summer retreat before returning to the palace, so she wasn’t privy to these conversations. Lucky her.)

He had finally broken down and informed his advisors that he hadn’t floated back to land of his own accord. He had only fuzzy memories of the accident, but he knew someone had saved his life. This someone had a perfect, deep voice, soft lips, and hair that was either curly or mussed from the waves - Shane couldn’t be sure which. Whatever the case, this someone was the only person Shane was prepared to wed, and he informed his advisors of this reality in no uncertain terms.

They had fussed and tried to offer him compromises, but Shane stood firm. Didn’t all his advisors boast of their cleverness and connections? Surely they could find one specific man with little trouble. Eventually, they agreed to try, and Shane bolted before they could change their minds.

He wracked his brains as he walked, trying to remember any other details from that night. If he could give his advisors an eye color, perhaps, or facial features, maybe they truly would be able to find this man. His crewmates had been no help - they all swore the only things they saw in the water were Shane himself and Chiron, and Chiron had resurfaced without any assistance.

Still. Shane knew what he had experienced. His rescuer’s skin had been warm despite being soaked, and his touch had been so tender as it brushed Shane’s cheek. Shane could feel the ghost of it even now, and he yearned to feel it once more, preferably while tucked away in his spacious bedchambers.

He was approaching the cove where he had washed ashore in the hopes that seeing it again would unlock a memory. He climbed over the grassy dunes that formed its outer boundary, looked down, and saw–

Holy shit. There was a naked man lying prone, skin glistening golden in the sunlight.

Shane would never admit that he stared at the man’s round ass for a long moment before scrambling to kneel at his side. He could see the man’s torso expanding as he breathed, so he clearly wasn’t dead, thank goodness. Did he have any injuries?

He noted sandy blond-brown curls, wet only with ocean water. The man’s face was turned slightly toward Shane, enough for Shane to confirm that his nose had a slight bump and his lips formed a perfect bow on top and both features were perfectly intact. There were a few moles scattered along his face and body, but those only enhanced his beauty. No blood, no bruises. A golden chain glinted at his throat.

As if the man could tell Shane was taking stock of him, he woke with a flutter of lashes and a gasp. His eyes were a pale, changeable blue - no, gray - no, both. Somehow, they were both, and they were captivating.

Shane realized his hand was resting on the man’s broad shoulderblade and pulled it away hastily. The man rolled over onto his back and kicked a leg into the air, staring at it with…wonder? Had he expected an injury, maybe?

“You’re OK,” Shane said, drawing the man’s attention and making him drop his foot back on the pale sand. “Do they hurt?”

The man shook his head no.

“Does anything else hurt?”

Another no.

“What’s your name?” Shane tried, hoping he would get to hear the man’s voice. Maybe finding his rescuer would be easier than he thought. After all, the man in front of him had curly hair and soft-looking lips….

The man cupped his throat sadly and shook his head.

“You can’t speak,” Shane guessed. His heart absolutely did not sink in his chest. The man must have been able to tell he was disappointed, though, because his eyes filled with an emotion Shane could only describe as yearning. “No, hey, it’s fine. Don’t be upset, please.”

He set his hand on top of the man’s and squeezed it gently. The man beamed at him for a moment, then rolled carefully onto his side so he was facing Shane. With his free hand, he wrote a word.

Ilya.

“Il-e-ya. That’s your name?” Shane asked, suddenly giddy. They could communicate after all!

Ilya shook his head and drew a line under the first two letters of his name, paused, then underlined the last two.

Shane understood right away. “Il-ya. Sorry, OK, I get it now. How did you get here, Ilya?”

This answer was apparently going to be too much to write, because Ilya started gesturing instead. There was a horizontal waving motion. A vertical arm spiral. His hands came together, then broke apart. Ilya pointed to himself, then shook his head with a frown.

“There was a storm? A shipwreck? You’re the only one left?”

Ilya nodded.

“Oh, Ilya.” Shane squeezed his hand again. He wouldn’t normally be so forward, but being close to Ilya just felt right. “Do you have somewhere to go?”

A head shake. Shane didn’t need any other information to make his decision.

“Then you’ll come home with me.”

Ilya looked surprised. He tilted his head as if to ask, Really?

“I can’t just leave you here. What kind of prince would I be if I abandoned someone in need?” Shane teased. “But you’ll need something to wear until we get - there!”

He had started scanning their surroundings as if a full suit of clothing might just appear out of thin air and noticed a scrap of sail behind Ilya. Shane stood up and fetched it, then handed it back to Ilya, who was still sitting down.

“It’s not much, but you can at least make a kilt out of it until we can get you a real outfit,” Shane said when Ilya looked up at him with confusion. “Let me give you some privacy.”

Shane turned around and started counting to one hundred slowly in his head. Around eighty, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Fuck. He had really thought there was more material to the sail than what was now draped around Ilya’s waist. His crotch was covered, blessedly - Shane had not been able to avoid seeing it earlier, and he was going to be thinking about that sight for the rest of his life - but the sail hung low on Ilya’s hips and ended nowhere near his knees. His thick thighs and toned abs were on perfect, tantalizing display.

“That’s - let’s get you home,” Shane said, hoping he could claim the flush on his cheeks was from the hot sun. “Yeah?”

Ilya teetered and nearly overbalanced as he tried to walk.

“Whoa!” Shane caught him before he could fall and draped one of Ilya’s arms over his shoulders to provide a brace, hoping their height difference wouldn’t prove too much of an obstacle. Shane himself was reasonably tall, but Ilya still had about a head on him. “You sure you’re OK?”

A nod. Shane kept his pace slow to start, but Ilya quickly gained his equilibrium, showing off a smooth, powerful stride.

It was only when they approached the palace gates that Shane realized he was still tucked under Ilya’s arm, though he had long ago stopped being a support for the other man. He should step away before anyone saw their prince cuddled up to a stranger and took it as a sign of weakness.

He didn’t. There was a good chance that his advisors would never find his rescuer, that he would eventually be prevailed upon to give up this mad desire of his and marry someone else, someone he almost certainly wouldn’t feel comfortable with. If and when that day came, he wanted to be able to look back on this memory - this perfect moment of feeling safe and secure and at ease - to get him through.

Didn’t he deserve that much?

— — —

Ilya couldn’t believe his luck. His prince had found him mere moments after Cliff and Connors had dragged him to shore, and he was even more stunning in the daylight. Shane hadn’t hesitated before bringing Ilya back to the palace, either, showing he had a caring soul as well as a beautiful face. Perhaps winning true love’s kiss would be easier than he thought.

When they arrived at the white stone castle, a cloud of old men with pompous bearings descended on Shane in the entrance hall, haranguing him about his duties to the kingdom and if he was sure he didn’t want to marry Princess Rose, who was perfectly nice and not a potential hallucination. They asked in accusatory tones if he could remember anything about this phantom other than the sound of his voice and his maybe-curly hair. Ilya wanted to snarl and tuck Shane behind him, but both his muteness and his vague sense of good manners kept him from doing so. Instead, he rubbed his thumb over Shane’s shoulderblade, hoping the silent comfort would be enough.

(He did not feel a spike of fear at the revelation that one of Shane’s only memories of his rescuer was his voice. His voice. Fuck.)

“I thought we had an agreement,” Shane finally shouted, his voice carrying easily over the babble of the other men. He took a single step forward and straightened his spine, looking impressively regal. “You wish me to marry, which is important for the continued good of the kingdom, I’ll admit. I wish to marry someone I could grow to love, since I will have to spend the rest of my life by their side. Is that truly so much to ask?”

There was a general, begrudging no.

“How long must we search for this rescuer of yours, Your Highness?” asked one of the men, who had conniving blue eyes and a solid build, even in his advanced years. “If you are to be the carrier of any potential heirs, you cannot wait forever.”

Shane flinched. Ilya wanted to punch this man for what he was implying.

“I hear you, Lord Crowell,” Shane said flatly. “When you feel you have truly exhausted all possible avenues to find this man, then we can reconsider my position. I expect to be updated on your progress, and I will make the final call on whether or not you have put forth a reasonable effort. Is that satisfactory?”

Lord Crowell nodded obsequiously and stepped back. Another elderly man, this one with a much gruffer demeanor, took his place. “And who is this?” he asked, looking at Ilya as if he were a clump of rotten seaweed.

“Lord Theriault, gentlemen, this is Ilya.” Shane returned to his side and took his hand without seeming to think about it. “I went back to the cove where I washed ashore and found him there. It appears he was shipwrecked, too. He will stay here as he recovers, then we will help get him home. Harris?”

A younger, more cheerful man appeared from the passage at their left. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“Take him up to the East Wing and help him find some clothing, please? And tell Gen there will be another person at supper. Ilya will be seated next to me.”

Ilya squeezed Shane’s hand and shot him a wide-eyed, apprehensive look.

“You’ll be OK,” Shane reassured him. “I’ll be busy with my advisors and my crew for a while. But Harris will take care of you, and we can spend more time together after supper. Perhaps a round of billiards?”

Ilya didn’t know what that was, but more time with Shane was always acceptable to him. He nodded and turned to Harris with a smile.

“You can’t speak?” Harris asked gently. When Ilya shook his head no, Harris smiled back at him and said, “That’s OK. I talk enough for three people, probably. Let’s get you settled in, yeah?”

The afternoon sailed by from there. Harris escorted Ilya to a lush, well-appointed suite with pale coral walls and white linens on the bed. Thank Neptune he was a chatterbox, because Ilya learned so many new words as he got a tour: wardrobe, sofa, and, wonderfully, bathtub.

Harris excused himself to find Ilya some clothing after filling the large copper basin with hot water and soap that smelled of something green and vaguely spicy as it bubbled up. Ilya took that opportunity to admire his new legs, which were long and muscular and looked like they had always been part of his body. Walking hadn’t proven too difficult, once he found his equilibrium - how much harder could running or dancing be?

After a few minutes of examining his legs from all possible angles, Ilya cleaned himself up with the soft white cloth Harris had left by the side of the tub. This was the first time he’d ever been out of the ocean long enough for the salt to dry on him, and he had to say, he didn’t love the feeling. It was delightful to rinse it off and feel his skin turn soft and supple.

Eventually, Harris returned, popping his head in the door and asking “All clean?” When Ilya nodded, Harris offered him a larger white cloth, which - oh, OK. Ilya didn’t have to air dry. Incredible!

Ilya tied the large cloth around his waist and shivered. The previously temperate day felt a little too cool after his warm bath. Harris noticed the reaction and directed Ilya to the large wooden wardrobe back in his bedchamber.

“Thankfully, some of the other men who sail with Prince Shane are about your size,” Harris said as he opened the double doors. “They were happy to lend you some clothes once they learned of your predicament - after all, they can only hope someone would do the same for them if the tables were turned.”

Of course Shane’s men were as thoughtful as he was. Grateful, Ilya selected a loose black shirt and matching trousers from the rail, then unknotted his drying cloth and let it fall to the floor.

Harris turned bright red and spun to face the opposite wall. “Oh. OK. You're just going to get dressed right now. Got it.”

Ilya dressed quickly, smiling in pleasure when standing on one leg to put the trousers on was as easy as breathing. He was getting so good at human stuff!

He tapped Harris on the shoulder to indicate that he was done.

“Wow, those clothes fit like they were yours all along,” Harris said with an appreciative scan up and down Ilya’s body. “Now you just need shoes.”

Ilya scowled and shook his head.

“No shoes?” Harris looked bemused. “You’re sure?”

Of course Ilya was sure. There were so many new textures that he could only experience if he was barefoot - carpet, marble, stone. What did he want with shoes?

Harris clearly didn’t need Ilya to be able to speak to understand him. “Well, if you’re happy. C’mon, I’ll show you to the dining room.”

They wound their way back to the first floor of the palace and into a spacious room with windows lining two of the walls. The sea was visible from the far side, while the palace grounds came into view along the right. Shane was already seated near one end of the gigantic oval table, engrossed in conversation with a couple of the men Ilya had seen aboard his ship.

A devious thought came to Ilya then, and he held a finger to his lips to keep Harris from telling Shane they had arrived. He padded over silently - another perk of not wearing shoes - and clapped both of his hands to Shane’s shoulders from behind.

“Motherfucker,” Shane yelped. The surprise made him jolt, and Ilya had to move fast in order to not get clipped in the chin by the top of Shane’s head. “Ilya!”

Harris and the other men in the room snickered. Ilya beamed.

“I’m going to throw you back in the ocean,” Shane said, petulant and adorable. “You ingrate.”

Ilya widened his eyes and pouted his lower lip as he took the seat to Shane’s left. Shane looked displeased for another moment, then finally broke down and laughed, too.

“I’ll have to keep my eye on you,” he said, pulling a pale blue cloth out from under a mini-trident and settling it in his lap. Ilya followed suit, hoping human meal etiquette wasn’t so different from merperson manners. “Was everything to your liking in your rooms?”

More attendants appeared, bearing shiny silver trays out of a door at the far end of the room as Ilya nodded. Shane got first pick of the food they proffered, and Ilya watched carefully as they put portions of everything he selected on his plate. There were long, pale yellow strands of something covered in a rich red sauce that looked delicious; when the bowl was offered to Ilya next, he happily took a serving.

Ilya pinched some of the strands between his first two fingers and his thumb and lifted them to his mouth, trying not to let too much of the sauce drip. Everyone at the table looked at him in shock.

Shane recovered first. “Like this,” he said, picking up the mini-trident to the left of his plate and twirling it so the strands caught around the tines. From there, he lifted it to his mouth and chewed neatly.

Huh. Of all the uses humans could have had for their mini-tridents. Ilya mimicked Shane’s motions, and yeah, that was much easier than trying to eat with his hands.

“I’m sorry, I suppose I should have asked if you had ever had pasta before.” Shane’s tone was light, and Ilya appreciated the effort he was exerting to not make a big deal of Ilya’s odd behavior. “Do you like it?”

Ilya nodded vigorously, already scooping up another bite. Pasta. He was definitely going to need to hold on to that new word in his human life, because pasta was wonderful.

From there, the meal was incident-free. Ilya was happy to listen to Shane and his men as they joked and reminisced and discussed where they should sail to next, and they were all good about giving him opportunities to nod along or act out his own responses. They even made a game of purposely misunderstanding his gestures, leaving them all crying with laughter at their increasingly ridiculous interpretations.

Best of all, though, was Shane turning to check in on Ilya every few minutes with a soft smile or a raised eyebrow. Ilya had been returning the gestures with matching grins or gentle bumps of their shoulders, but he had noticed Shane’s energy waning as the night progressed. The signs were subtle, but they were there if someone was looking: a slump in his posture, a long flutter of his eyelids after a blink, an answer to a question that was just a second too slow. Since the other men were showing no signs of slowing down, Ilya took matters into his own hands.

The next time Shane turned to see how he was doing, Ilya pushed his empty plate away and tilted his head toward the door.

“You’re tired?” Shane asked. Ilya didn’t think he was imagining the hint of relief in Shane’s eyes. “I’ll escort you back to your rooms.”

There was a general call of good night as Shane and Ilya stood, which Shane returned out loud while Ilya waved cheerfully. As they re-entered the East Wing, Ilya noticed a set of glass double doors that led to an outdoor seating area with a slight view of the ocean. 

Privacy, he thought. Maybe we could kiss under the stars? He tugged on Shane’s hand and pointed.

“You want to sit on the patio for a minute? That sounds…really nice, actually. Come on.”

Shane led them down the hall and out to the so-called patio, where he flopped onto a bench that was made of some kind of woven wood and lined with deep blue cushions. It was just big enough for two, so Ilya settled in at his side.

They were quiet for a moment, then Shane leaned his head back and let out a long sigh. Ilya swore he could see the stress leaving Shane's body.

He laced the fingers of his right hand with Shane's left and squeezed softly, just once.

“I'm OK,” Shane said, hearing Ilya's unspoken question. “It's just been a long day, you know? As usual, my advisors and I have completely different opinions on my duties. I tried to discuss modernizing our fleet, but all they want me to do is settle down, produce some heirs one way or another, and be a mouthpiece for their interests above any of my own.”

Ilya frowned and squeezed Shane's hand again. Those advisors were lucky Ilya didn't have his voice, or they'd be getting an earful about what exactly they could do with their life goals for Shane.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be deterred for a while. I’ve set them what might be an impossible task in finding the man who rescued me from drowning recently. It’s not a foolproof solution, but it gives me a little breathing room.”

Your rescuer is right here, Ilya wanted to scream. It was me! If I had known you only remembered my voice, I would have let Svetlana blind me instead. Just kiss me, Shane. Kiss me, and I’ll prove it.

Shane took a breath and continued, “Dinner with my crewmates was better, but it has its own set of expectations. I’m their captain on the water and off, so I can never fully relax with them. I can horse around with them to an extent, but only so far, in case I lose face. I have to make sure I laugh at everyone’s jokes to dispel any accusations of favoritism. If you hadn’t asked to leave, I would have made sure I was the last person at the table, as a show of stamina.

“Fuck, I’m just talking your ear off now, aren’t I? You probably wanted some peace and quiet, and instead you get me whining about how hard it is to be a prince.” Shane dropped his face into his hands, scrubbing them back and forth wearily. “I’m sorry.”

Ilya let go of Shane’s hand in order to wrap his arm around Shane’s shoulders and pull him in close to his side. Shane stiffened for a moment, then rested his head against Ilya’s chest. His breathing slowed.

All of Ilya’s earlier thoughts of kissing dissipated. Sure, if Shane tilted his face up and pursed his perfect, pouty lips, Ilya would happily lean down and oblige him, but Ilya didn’t see that happening. Not after he had been so vulnerable, letting Ilya see how exhausted he was by advisors who didn’t respect him and crewmates who needed him to be an example.

If he had had his voice, Ilya would have hummed his mama’s lullaby then, in the hopes that it would help Shane rest. As it was, he had to settle for caressing as much of Shane as possible, running a slow hand from the thick hair on the crown of his head down to his lower back, then reversing the process.

A soft snore rattled out of Shane’s slack mouth. Ilya smiled and settled further into the bench, completely satisfied with this turn of events. He still had two days as a human, after all. He could try again tomorrow.

He looked out at the horizon, appreciating how the stars reflected off the little triangle of ocean that was visible from his seat. For a second, he thought he saw - no.

That flash of orange must have been a trick of the light.

— — —

“Well?” Alexei demanded the moment Sasha entered the throne room. He had dismissed his courtiers already, so no one was there to gasp at his bad manners or overhear anything they shouldn’t.

“It’s worse than I feared, Your Majesty. Against all odds, Ilya did find that human prince he’s fixated on, and now he’s…cavorting with him. I thought some time on land would help Ilya see its deficiencies and come to his senses, but I was wrong, Your Majesty. I do apologize,” Sasha said, bowing his head in subservience.

“It’s quite alright, Sasha,” Alexei said with a thoughtful stroke of his chin. “I know exactly what to do, and I’ll need your help.”

“Your Majesty?”

“You said the witch could only make Ilya a human for three days?” At Sasha’s nod, Alexei continued, “Then we have to act quickly. I’ll distract the witch. You sneak into her lair and take the necklace with Ilya’s voice. I’ll transform you into a human once you’ve got it - I do have my own powers as king of Atlantica, you know.”

“And they’re quite impressive,” Sasha concurred. “But why must I have Ilya’s voice?”

“You’ll need some kind of leverage over Ilya to keep him in line. Who knows what might happen if you destroyed that necklace before the spell wears off?”

A scheming look appeared on Sasha’s face. So long as he was plotting against Ilya and not himself, Alexei didn’t care. “You’re so wise, Your Majesty. Forgive my impertinence.”

“Then you’ll keep Ilya and the prince distracted until time runs out,” Alexei finished. “He’ll get his voice and his real body back, and then he’ll have no choice but to resume his rightful place at my side. Forever.”

“He’ll have to see how much I care about him after all this,” Sasha murmured. “This human prince is a passing fancy. I know what’s best for him.”

“Mm. Yes,” Alexei said with a dismissive flap of his hand. “But he has to return before you can convince him to make you his consort. Are you prepared to brave the witch’s den?”

“Lead the way, Your Majesty.”

— — —

It had been a perfect, perfect morning. Shane had woken Ilya early so they could duck out of the palace undetected and walk along the beach, just the two of them. Well, and Chiron, who Ilya had learned was a dog. Chiron was an adorable bundle of energy, always sticking his nose in a tide pool or begging one of them to throw a stick for him to chase after and bring back. Ilya spent almost as much time sprinting behind him as he did strolling lazily by Shane’s side.

“Do you like my dog more than you like me?” Shane asked, laughing, as Ilya dropped yet another kiss on Chiron’s forehead, right where he had a white blazon in his fur. “It’s OK, you can tell me the truth.”

Ilya pretended to think about it, then held his hand out palm-down and wiggled it. Could go either way.

Shane almost pulled off a shocked, indignant look, but Ilya could see the glee in his eyes. “Wrong answer!”

He ducked away from the big hug Ilya tried to wrap him in, splashing into the water and kicking some in Ilya’s direction. Ilya let a wicked smile creep onto his face. Shane had no idea what he was in for.

They tried to soak each other for a while, Ilya beaming each time Shane barked a carefree laugh. Finally, his stomach rumbled, and he held out a hand to Shane.

“Lunch time,” Shane confirmed. He whistled to Chiron, who hadn’t escaped the water fight, then easily accepted Ilya’s hand.

The sun sparkled off the waves as they wandered back to the palace. Ilya could hear gulls cawing overhead, and the air smelled both salty and fresh. He couldn’t help but cut his eyes toward Shane again and again.

Was now the time? Should he tug Shane to a halt and kiss him right there?

He was still warring with himself as the palace came into view. Shane had been glancing at him just as often as he had been glancing at Shane, so the odds were good that Shane would kiss him back. But he wasn’t sure, and he would never be able to live with himself as a human or a merman if he forced himself on another person.

Ilya settled for thinking kiss me, kiss me, please kiss me as loudly as he could. Just before they reached the gates, Shane pulled Ilya off to the side, where a protrusion in the stone wall hid them from most passersby.

“It’s funny. I’ve never been so comfortable with another person before, especially after only knowing them for a day,” he said, looking up at Ilya with those lethal brown eyes. “It’s like…no. I can’t say it. It would be crazy. But–”

He broke off and leaned ever so slightly forward.

“Stop me if I do anything you don’t want.”

Ilya’s breath caught. He bent down a fraction of an inch, trying to make it easier for Shane to reach him, when a deep, familiar voice interrupted them.

“Pardon me. I’m lost. Would either of you be able to help me?”

Shane gasped. Ilya looked over to see Sasha’s smarmy face, the golden conch shell pendant shining at his throat. How in the fuck–

“It’s you,” Shane said in wonder. “I remember your voice. You saved me from drowning.”

Ilya thought he was going to throw up.

— — —

The past eighteen or so hours had passed in a whirlwind. Shane had taken Sasha - his rescuer, Sasha - into the palace, and his advisors had been overjoyed at the discovery. They were so excited, in fact, that they convinced Shane that he should be wed the very next day, so Sasha couldn’t slip away again.

Without even considering it, Shane agreed. He had promised to marry the man who had saved him, and now that man was here. What reason did he have to delay?

(Ilya, his heart screamed. Shane registered it as if it were separated from him by a thick pane of glass. What about Ilya?)

From there, the preparations came together seamlessly. Shane felt a bit like a toy doll being slotted into scenarios his advisors must have been devising for years without his input. They did agree to let him have the wedding aboard his ship, at least, and Shane tried to view the moment as a positive step. Sure, they had obliged his request with an air of indulgent condescension, but they had still obliged.

The familiar setting eased some of Shane’s anxiety as he stood across from Sasha, their hands clasped between them, both of them in white wedding finery. It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky, and the sun’s rays glinted off the spindly golden chairs lining the deck. There weren’t many people in attendance, given the short notice - just Shane’s men, the local nobility, and Ilya, who was sitting in the very back row, Chiron at his side. Part of Shane noticed how attractive Ilya looked in his billowy, pale purple shirt and how sad his eyes were, but the thought to go over and comfort him left his head as soon as it entered.

“Ready?” Lord Wiebe murmured, only loud enough for Shane and Sasha to hear. The advisors had also allowed Shane to have him as his officiant, since he was Shane’s beloved mentor from when he first learned to sail. When Shane nodded, he gave them a reassuring smile, then began. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today….”

The traditional vows floated in one of Shane’s ears and out the other. He forced himself to hold eye contact with Sasha, even as something inside of him cringed at the other man’s too-firm grip and weirdly shark-like smile. Wedding nerves, he thought. That’s all.

Lord Wiebe finished his speech and turned to Shane. “Repeat after me. I, Prince Shane.”

“I, Prince - shit.”

A massive wave had rocked the boat as Shane was speaking, even though the water had been entirely placid up until then. He dropped Sasha’s hands and fought to keep his balance.

“Something’s in the water,” Luca called from his seat in the front row. Shane looked to where he was pointing and saw two black eels undulating near a slim, brown-skinned woman.

Fuck. She was in real danger from those creatures - Shane had to help her - what?

The woman caressed the eels on the tops of their heads, then gestured for them to make another attempt on the ship. Holy shit. She was their leader.

“Witch!” Sasha cried. “My prince, you have to stop her.”

“To arms!” Shane called. His men complied at once, running to their positions. His advisors, on the other hand, turned tail and ran below decks, with the exception of Lord Wiebe, who took the helm. Good riddance. “On my count. Three. Two.”

He never made it to one. Ilya came out of nowhere and tackled him to the deck, leaving him breathless.

Shane tried to rear up and throw Ilya off of him, but Ilya got hold of his wrists and pinned them over his head. They were practically nose-to-nose, so Shane couldn’t miss the desperate look in Ilya’s wide blue eyes or the firm way he shook his head no.

“No? Why not? Ilya!”

Before Ilya could do anything to explain, he stiffened and fell to the side. Sasha loomed over them both, his knuckles already bruising from the blow he had just delivered to Ilya’s head.

“This isn’t where you belong, Ilya,” he sneered. There was a triumphant look in his hazel eyes. “Alexei knows it. I know it. But you just had to be stubborn.”

Shane wanted to ask what he was missing here, but Ilya had already gotten up and charged Sasha, who darted back as quickly as he could. Ilya still managed to snag the chain of Sasha’s necklace, instantly breaking it with the force of his grip. The golden conch shell pendant went flying and shattered on the far side of the deck.

Yellow and blue swirls of light surrounded the ship, drawing everyone’s attention. The sound of a disembodied voice - the voice, Shane’s rescuer’s voice - floated through the air, growing louder and louder as it sank back into Ilya’s throat.

Ilya’s throat.

“Shane,” he rasped, and oh. Shane hadn’t realized that a fog had come over his senses, but everything was entirely clear now. It was never Sasha. Ilya had saved him, of course he had, and now—

Now he was collapsing. Shane stared uncomprehendingly at the sight of Ilya’s clothing dissolving and his long, muscular legs melding together, golden skin turning to icy blue scales.

“Ilya, what-?” Shane choked out. “How?”

He was distracted by Sasha peeling off his own clothing and flinging himself overboard, his legs changing to a bright orange tail in midair. Again: what??

“Fuck. He’s here,” Ilya said nonsensically. “I have to stop him.”

He swung his tail like a pendulum and used his arms to dump himself off the ship after Sasha. When Shane leaned over the rail to see where he had gone, he noticed another blond man pop out of the water, arms raised to show off the wicked-looking trident in his hands. Another blond man that looked like a meaner, stockier version of Ilya.

“Captain! Orders?” Bood cried from his place at the cannon.

Shane opened his mouth to shout his response, but a spear of lightning overhead interrupted him. It struck one of the witch’s eels, and she let out a piercing scream.

Ilya had made it to the other man - the Alexei Sasha had mentioned? - by then, and he kept Alexei from launching another attack by delivering a hard right hook to his jaw.

“Hold!” Shane commanded. He was running through options as quickly as he could in his head. Cannonballs and harpoons stood too much of a chance of hurting Ilya as well as Alexei. Anyone who went in the water to assist might get fried by another lightning bolt, if they could even stay above the surface long enough to be useful.

As he deliberated, the witch gathered her strength and pushed a wave toward the mermen, tossing Sasha aside before he could sneak up on Ilya from behind again.

So the witch was an ally. Good to know.

The remaining eel shot toward Sasha, keeping him occupied. Ilya and the witch double-teamed Alexei, but he recovered from their assaults with an ease neither of them could match. Shane simply kept watching, waiting for his moment. He had an idea, but Alexei would need to be at a very specific angle, and Ilya hadn’t maneuvered him there just yet….

“You can’t stand against the king of Atlantica,” Sasha called. Hearteningly, the electrocuted eel had revived and joined the fight, but Sasha was just proving just as slippery to pin down as his serpentine opponents. “Stop fighting, Ilya. Do your duty and support your brother! Don’t you want to relieve him of the burden of ruling, even a little?”

“The burden?” Ilya replied, incredulous. He dodged a strike from Alexei’s trident, then continued, “What does he know of burdens? I sit in the council meetings. I receive petitions from our people. Alexei just attends revels and poses for portraits!”

Shane’s heart broke for Ilya. Did no one under the sea appreciate his kindness and playfulness? Was no one on his side? How could they–

Finally. An opportunity had appeared. The witch had shot a jet of boiling water at Alexei while Ilya was speaking, and the dive he took to evade it put his back to Shane’s ship.

Shane raised his right fist, then drew it down quickly. His men immediately inflated the sails and began to row, well aware of what Shane’s silent signals meant.

The noise of battle drowned out the sound of the oars, allowing Shane and his men to approach Alexei undetected. Out of the corner of his eye, Shane could see Sasha startle and try to shout, but the eels wrapped their tails around his throat before he could say anything coherent, and he sank below the waves. Shane didn’t bother to see if he resurfaced.

He was too focused on lashing a harpoon to the prow of his ship.

They sailed closer. Closer.

“Ilya!” Shane shouted at the last possible second. “Duck!”

Wide-eyed, Ilya dove for the witch and propelled them both to the side as fast as he could. Alexei whirled around, caught off-guard–

And Shane’s harpoon drove straight into his heart.

The force of the blow sent Shane toppling overboard. He could tell that he was moving quickly, but he processed everything he was seeing in slow motion.

Alexei turning gray and crumpling into ash on the wind.

Half of his men cheering while the other half lunged futilely to catch him.

Ilya’s beautiful face, with its bruised temple and busted lower lip. Even injured, he was still the most wonderful thing Shane had ever seen.

Shane hit the water then, and knew no more.

— — —

Once again, Ilya was swimming so fast he feared his heart would burst, Shane in his arms. Shane’s men had shouted about the lifeboat, but Ilya’s old favorite rock was closer, so he deposited Shane there and desperately waited for him to open his eyes.

“Please, please, please,” Ilya muttered, stroking over Shane’s sodden hair. He was stretched out alongside Shane, tail on full view. What did secrecy matter now? “Shane?”

Shane gasped and came to with a jolt. He leaned up on his elbows, face just inches from Ilya’s. “Ilya. You’re a - a–”

“Merman. Yes,” Ilya said with a sad smile. “I’m sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Shane asked. “I’m sorry. I thought Sasha had rescued me that first night, when I should have known it was you all along, voice or no voice.”

He paused, then added, almost like an afterthought, “And I killed your brother.”

“Is no great loss,” Ilya said, shrugging one shoulder. “Do not be sorry about him. Be sorry about scaring me half to death again by almost drowning. The ocean is my home, Shane. It is not yours.”

“It can’t be yours,” Shane said, a little frenzied. “Your home can’t be anywhere but my side.”

He pushed himself up farther and captured Ilya’s lips in a passionate, open-mouthed kiss. At first, Ilya thought his dizziness was from the perfection of the moment, but then he realized he was actually spinning, his body going vertical in the air.

Shane clung to Ilya’s shoulders and wrapped his legs firmly around the place where Ilya’s human torso turned to scales. A swirl of yellow and blue light began to envelop them both.

“Let go!” Ilya cried, unsure if he was trying to pry Shane off of him or pull him even closer.

“No!” Shane replied with a stubborn shake of his head. “I’m not letting you get away from me! Not ever!”

Ilya felt a familiar tingling sensation in his lower body. No. It couldn’t be.

It was. His feet landed on the rock moments later, Shane still cradled in his arms, his face now buried in the side of Ilya’s neck. Ilya’s clothing had returned, too, the same pale lilac shirt and gray trousers he had been wearing for the wedding-that-wasn’t. His mother’s necklace gleamed at his throat.

“Shane. Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Ilya whispered. “Look.”

Shane looked. A heartbeat later, he was out of Ilya’s arms and crouching down to run his hands over Ilya’s legs in wonder. “You have legs!”

“I have le-ahh!” Ilya yelped as Shane picked him up and spun him in a tight circle. “Shane!”

“I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say my name,” Shane said dreamily, setting Ilya down. “But how is this possible?”

“I don’t know,” Ilya said, wracking his brains. “I made a deal with Svetlana to trade my voice for legs–”

“And you never broke that deal.” Svetlana popped up out of nowhere, making both Shane and Ilya jump. She folded her arms atop the rock and rested her head on the backs of her hands. “The necklace broke, yes, but you received true love’s kiss before sunset on the third day. Congratulations, Ilya. You’re human forever.”

“Forever?” Shane repeated, a sweet, hopeful smile on his face.

“Forever,” Ilya confirmed. He leaned down to kiss Shane again, relishing in the fact that he could do so as often as he liked from now on. “That was the deal.”

Shane hummed into the kiss, then pulled back, concerned. “But you’re the prince of Atlantica. If Alexei’s dead and you’re human, who will reign over the merpeople?”

“I think Svetlana has that covered,” Ilya said wryly. “After all, she was my brother’s intended. Sort of. Almost.”

“I would be honored,” Svetlana replied, every one of her teeth showing as she smiled. “But…if I sent Cliff or Connors up with a message for you from time to time…?”

“I would be offended if you didn’t,” Ilya said with a firm nod. He blinked back the tears that had suddenly formed in his eyes. “Now, do you have any magic on hand that will help us get to shore?”

“I don’t think you need me for that,” Svetlana said, gesturing toward Shane’s ship. His crewmates cheered when they saw Shane and Ilya look their way, and one of them - Troy, maybe? - motioned for the lifeboat to be lowered. Luca was already sitting in it, prepared to close the rest of the distance between them. “Go, Ilya. Live your real life.”

She turned and swam away, leaving Ilya to wrap an arm around Shane’s shoulders.

“Shane. I need to know. What are these?” he asked, tracing a gentle finger over the brown dots on Shane’s cheeks that had captivated him since the moment he saw them.

“My…freckles?” Shane answered, confused.

“Freckles,” Ilya repeated. He loved how the word felt in his mouth. “Freckles. They’re perfect.”

“They’re a sign I’ve been in the sun too much.” Shane wrinkled his nose. “I need to remember to wear a hat when I go outside.”

Ilya huffed out a displeased breath. “No. No hats. Your freckles are so pretty, Shane, and I want to kiss every single one of them.”

“That might take a while,” Shane teased, beaming up at Ilya.

“Good thing we have forever,” Ilya replied, and he set to work.