“I shall save you a seat next to me. I wish to question you about humans.” He shakes his head. “Such strange people.”
With a crack and the smell of cordite, he’s gone. I wake the sleeping Selkie, sending him on his way with a mince pie, and then flip the sign toClosedand shut the door, thankfully. I’m done for the Christmas holidays. Now it’ll be just me and Sig with no work. The universities broke up for Christmas yesterday.
I head back to the counter, switching off the main lights as I go, leaving a few lamps to shine in the rainy darkness. The conch shell is glowing, and wavy shadows line the walls as if the sea is in the room. It was a gift from the Mer when we found Melusine, and it is a means of communication with the court. Sig says it’s a great honour and finds it highly amusing that I use it as a telephone and spend hours gossiping with Melusine and Marin.
I lift it, its weight always a little surprising, and listen to the sighing of the sea. Then a voice comes through clearly.
“Cary? You are alright?”
I smile. I like the Mer prince. He’s irreverent, light-hearted, and a complete ho, but he’s also clever and a great friend to Sig. He’ll make a wonderful king one day.
“I’m fine, Marin. Is Sigurd still with you?”
“Nay, he left an hour ago. I believe he is on his way back to you and sanity, or so he was muttering as he went.”
I laugh. “Were the negotiations bad?”
“More double speak than something Ian Fleming would chronicle.”
“You do know they’re not real? MI5 doesn’t work like that.”
He’d picked up one of the books in my shop and has now gone through the series.
“Anyway, I took Sigurd fishing afterwards.”
“Oh dear. His head has barely recovered from the last time.” This is a new passion of his and Sig’s. Marin is endlessly curious about human behaviour, so he’d got a fishing boat. He and Sig go out in it but never return with any fish. Instead, they seem to spend most of their time drinking a Mer spirit that’s incredibly potent, as I can testify after having to pick Sigurd up after one of their days at sea, as they call it. Like they’re ancient mariners rather than just two drunkards.
“Ah, mayhap he needed some courage.”
“What for?”
There’s a pause long enough for me to think we’ve lost the connection. Then he says airily, “Why, to steer the boat, of course.”
“I hope he didn’t do that after a few glasses. You’d have been en route to Antarctica before too long.”
He laughs and then says in a solemn voice, “I am glad he found you, Cary. I have never seen him as happy as he has been over the last two years. It is a sight that warms my heart, and I thank you for that.”
“There’s no need to thank me,” I say, a lump in my throat. “He makes me just as happy.”
After saying our goodbyes, I set the conch shell back on the shelf and gather my things together. Then I throw on an old navy-blue cashmere jumper of Sig’s. It’s huge on me but I love it. I lower my nose into the neck, inhaling the scent of him. A few minutes later, I smile as I hear the beat of wings in the quiet street. I hustle to switch off the lamps and make my way to the door, throwing it open to find Sigurd leaning against the wall of Morveren’s shop. He’s wearing jeans, a black jumper, and the peacoat I bought him last year. His red-blond hair is tousled, and his eyes are bright.
“Hey,” I say, my smile too big to contain. Every time I see him, I get a warm feeling in my belly and my spirits lift. I’d wondered if those feelings would tail off, but Sig had assured me they never would, as they’re part of the true mate bond.
He straightens and pulls me into his arms. He smells of salt and his own sweet scent, and when he kisses me, his lips are hungry. When he sets me back, we’re both breathless.
“What did I do to deserve that?”
He rolls his eyes. “You get it every night. It is our custom. Are you ready?”
“Are we flying back?”
He nods, and I fasten his watch onto my wrist. It’s a new Breitling that I bought him for Christmas last year. It’s inscribed with some words from the old Christmas song, “Do You Hear What I Hear” which read,In your palace warm, mighty king.
When he has to remove it to change, I am always the keeper. His old one sits on my own wrist, and I never take that off. He’d wanted to buy me a better one, but that would have been impossible. It had been his first gift to me, and although he’s given me so much more since then, this will always be treasured.
I grin at him as he takes my satchel in his usual courtly manner. It feels strange not to see him in a suit. He wears them for his job as a professor of folklore at the University of Falmouth.
I ruffle his hair. “This is still a nice surprise.”
