“The kiss of life,” I say under my breath. “I can’t give that to him.”
“A kiss? Why would you kiss him, Maisie? That’s absurd and highly illogical.”
“No, Podaxis. Don’t you remember? When my brothers rescued unresponsive sailors, they would put their mouths on the sailors’ and breathe.” I glance at the man’s parted lips. “But I can’t do that without killing him.”
Podaxis taps his claws together. “Maybe we should just leave him.”
“No, not yet. There’s still more I can do, I’m sure of it.” I pull myself to sitting and rub my eyes as if that will help me see a solution. How else did my brothers help drowning men? I replay the last shipwreck I witnessed. It was years ago, but still…
I watch the memory as if through a fog. In it, I see my youngest brother swim out to the wreck in his seal form. Return with a survivor. Remove his sealskin. Check for life force at the sailor’s neck and wrist. Give him the kiss of life. Then move his palms to the sailor’s chest—
“That’s it!” I press my hands to the center of the man’s chest and try to imitate the pumping motions I saw my brothers do. I expect his chest to rise and fall with each move, but he’s like solid stone. “This is way harder than it looks.”
“Maybe you have to touch his skin.”
I can’t recall if my brothers removed the shirts of those they rescued, but it’s as good of an idea as we’ve got. “Yes, smart thinking, Podaxis.” With trembling fingers, I rush to unbutton his waistcoat. While I can’t make out its color in the dark, I’m surprised by the smooth feel of the brocade. It seems this man is more than a simple sailor or fisherman. He might even be an aristocrat. With his waistcoat open, I move on to his shirt. A blush creeps up my cheeks at the dawning realization of what I’m doing. I’m undressing a man. Something I didn’t even do for Martin. I swallow hard and shake the thoughts from my head, loosening the final button. Then I spread the fabric out of the way and place my hands over his naked skin.
My breath catches in my throat as they rest against firm muscle. “Oh.”
“What is it?” Podaxis shifts from claw to claw.
A corner of my lips flicks up. “Well, now, he isn’t too skinny at all.”
“I don’t think that’s blubber on his bones.”
“Whatever it is…I think I like it.”
“This is no time to ogle, Maisie. He might be dead.”
“Ew, you’re right.” Getting back to business, I attempt the pressing motions again but find them just as ineffective as before. Should I be pressing harder? Are my hands not in the right place? Gritting my teeth, I swing a leg over the man until I’m straddling his hips, then put as much effort as I can into pumping his chest again and again.
“I don’t think it’s working.” Podaxis’ voice comes out small.
My heart sinks at the apology in his tone. “It has to work.”
“You tried your best. Your father would be proud.”
My arms go weak at the mention of my father. With a curse, I halt my efforts and rise to my feet. Angry tears stream down my cheeks as I stalk away from the body. It was all for nothing. I tried to save him. I tried to make up for the life I stole—
“Maisie, I think he’s breathing.”
I whirl back around. “He is?”
Podaxis waves a claw in front of the man’s face. “Maybe?”
My heart pounds as I return to the man and crouch before him. Taking his face between my hands, I place my ear in front of his lips. At first, all I can hear is the rhythmic sound of waves lapping on the shore. Then a gasp. It’s ragged and shallow but very much there. A few seconds later, another breath follows.
Warmth floods my chest as I pull back, looking into the man’s face. “He’s breathing. He’s alive!”
“You did it Maisie! Wonderful! Can we go?”
I open my mouth, but I don’t know what to say. Now that I know he isn’t dead, what do I do with him? I can’t just leave him here…can I? He’s far too heavy to carry outside of water, as evidenced by my fruitless efforts on his firm chest. My eyes flick to his still-open shirt, but I force my gaze back to his face. In the moonlight, his skin appears bronze, his hair black. Or perhaps it’s just dark from the water. Whatever the case, I find myself wishing I could see him in daylight. My eyes fall to his mouth, to lips I now know are full of life. In fact, they’re just plain full. Much fuller than Martin’s. And that nose. It’s the kind I like. A little crooked, perhaps broken a time or two, and not at all dainty. I’ve seen men who look like him on posters outside the boxing arenas on Halley Street. “He’s kind of beautiful, isn’t he?”
Podaxis rolls his eyes in answer.
With my hands still framing the man’s face, I inch closer to study the length of the black lashes that brush his high cheekbones. What I wouldn’t give to have lashes like that. Mine are short and pale and pink while his are—
A spray of water drenches my face as the man surges forward with a gasping cough. I squeal and release his face, scurrying back on my forearms. “Oh, for the love of shells, he’s disgusting!”
