“Really? That’s so kind of you.”
“I like you, Cary.” She waves her hand at the display. “Choose carefully,” she says as I lean over the case, and there’s a warning note in her voice. “Let your heart guide your hand.”
I hesitate, my hand hovering, and then I see it. It’s a little white dragon.
“Ah, that is made of whalebone,” Morveren says. “It lay at the bottom of the sea for many hundreds of years. Many were the days that my brother and I played amongst it.”
The dragon’s carving is intricate, and Morveren obviously possesses a great deal of talent. It has small, amber-coloured jewels for eyes that seem to glitter in the light. I touch the tiny head delicately, and blink when tingles run up my fingers and spine.
I drop my hand and find Sigurd and Morveren are watching me intently. Sigurd’s eyes seem to sparkle.
“That one?” Morveren asks.
I nod. “It’s so beautiful. The prettiest thing I’veeverseen.”
“Of course,” she says simply. “You would say that.” She takes out the charm. It’s even more beautiful close up.
“Do you have to hook it on the bracelet?” I ask.
“No need.” I look down and blink. The charm now sits on the bracelet.
“When did that happen?”
“Ah, I am quick with my hands.” She holds the bracelet up.
Sigurd stirs. “Let me.”
His voice is deep, with an unexpectedly thrilling note, and I stare up at him as he fastens the bracelet on my wrist. His face is calm, but I sense deep emotion lying underneath.
“How do I tighten it?” I ask huskily and then gasp as the bracelet moves. It coils around my wrist, the leather warming against my skin. Then it settles, and the charm rests against mypulse point. For a second, I think the tiny dragon winks at me, but that can’t be true. At next glance, it’s just sitting prettily.
I look up. “I’ll treasure it forever. Thank you.”
“That’s—” Sigurd clears his throat. “That is good.” He rests his fingers against the leather.
Morveren stirs. “Before you go, Sigurd, I must ask a favour.”
“You do not need to ask,” Sigurd says. “For the sake of our long friendship and the courtesy you just showed to my mat— er, friend, I would do anything. You know that.”
She inclines her head solemnly. “It is Melusine.” She turns to me. “She is kin to me.”
“Another mermaid?” I ask cautiously.
Her eyes twinkle. “Yes.” She turns to Sigurd. “She has gone missing.”
“What? When?”
“Last week. She has always roamed the waters. She’s a wild young thing, so at first no one raised the alarm, but she has not come home. Her family grew anxious and then…”
Sigurd raises his eyebrows. “What?”
“There was talk of a fisherman with her comb.”
His eyes widen. “Is that true?”
I tilt my head. Why the fuss over a comb?
As if sensing my question, Morveren turns to me. “A mermaid’s comb is a serious thing, Cary. Without it, she cannot go home.” I gasp, and she says, “Yes, you see the problem.”
