His gaze shifted to Malachi. She reached out and patted his hand. “You were really brave, though. I’m proud of you.”Then her eyes snapped back to Dad, like they had unfinished business.
Malachi cheeks warmed. Brave wasn’t the word he’d have chosen. He’d screamed like a banshee when Captain Murdock knocked on the car window. He half expected Ally’s dad, Minford, and the rest of the so-called Banshee Brigade to come charging down the hill with their infrared cameras. At least Murdock had pretended not to notice.
Malachi turned it over in his head: banshees. The Banshee Brigade were convinced they were real. If the Otherworld existed, if creatures like Selkie were a part of Latharna, then maybe banshees were, too. Still, he didn’t believe for one second that Ally and his family knew. Ally surely would’ve said something.
Ina poured her tea slowly, lost somewhere deep in thought. Dad adjusted his bandages with a low grunt. The only sound was the humming of the fridge.
They sat in silence. Not awkward, just heavy.
Exhaustion crept into Malachi’s bones. Not the sharp panicked kind that came with fear, but a deep, full-bodied tiredness that meant sleep was close. Real sleep. The kind without river water and screaming. There was no longer anything to fear in the dark.
The silence stretched further, tension coiled tight. Ina’s shoulders were too rigid, and Dad’s mouth had that familiar line to it, the one that meant he was biting his tongue. Normally, Malachi would’ve let them snap and snipe until they burned themselves out. But not tonight.
“So…” He bit into a cookie with deliberate enthusiasm. “Now what?”
He chewed loudly, crumbs dusting his fingers. If he was going to broker peace, he was doing it on a full stomach. Hehadn’t eaten properly since lunch with Ally at Lucky Crumbs yesterday, and even then he hadn’t eaten much—nerves had strangled his appetite. Now his body was making up for it. He could demolish a fully-loaded fry and still find room for a slice of Thelma’s chocolate cake without blinking.
“I don’t know—” Dad spluttered mid-sip, choking like he’d just swallowed poison. He clutched his throat; eyes watering then lunged for the sugar bowl with a glare directed at Ina. He dumped in several heaped spoonfuls.
Ina stared at him. “That’s not tea anymore. It’s so sweet it’s practically dessert.”
Dad waved her off, stirring furiously. “We’ll find out in seven years if we did the right thing.”
A shiver worked its way down Malachi’s spine as tiredness leeched the warmth from his limbs. He wrapped both hands around his mug. “What do you think they’ll do?” His voice stayed steady, even as something tight coiled in his chest.
“I think it’s over, love.” Ina met his gaze and smiled softly. “The elder Selkie was right. They won’t make it back to Latharna. Their focus will be finding another shoal. With any luck, the child will travel to other breeding grounds instead of here.”
Malachi nodded, the tightening in his chest loosening a fraction.
“If they come back.” Malachi sat up straighter, hoping he looked more confident than he felt. “I’m going to help them.” He prayed they wouldn’t return. But if they did—if desperation drove them home—he’d be waiting at the West Harbour with food, and blankets, and whatever else they needed. Whether Dad and Ina stood beside him or not.
Fighting wasn’t the only answer. If Dad had wanted him to be a warrior, he should’ve been raised as one.Instead, the silences had given Malachi room to ask questions instead of learning where to aim. Now he was going to do both.
“That’s their right, son.” Dad lifted his mug and took a careful sip. “They’ve as much entitlement to Latharna as we do.”
He paused. His grip tightened on the handle, knuckles whitening. “They just got lost and—” He stopped, gaze dropping to the table. “We lost Rhys. And I almost lost you, too.” His shoulders sagged. “We’ll do better next time.”
Ina nodded slowly, her posture rigid.
Malachi clocked it immediately. The nod from Ina wasn’t agreement—it was restraint. A compromise, however small. He swallowed a smile.
“Do you have any questions?”
Malachi looked at Ina before realising Dad had spoken. His eyebrows shot up before he could stop them. Being asked was new. Like a door cracking open where there’d only ever been walls.
“The Selkie,” Malachi fiddled with the handle of the mug, the ceramic warm against his fingers. “We hear stories about them as children. But stories are not supposed to be real.”
“They’re real,” Ina replied. “Always have been. You should’ve known this long ago.”
She clicked her tongue as if she’d caught herself saying more than she meant to. When she looked up, whatever softness had flickered there was gone.
“Creatures from the Otherworld exist and live among us if you know where to look.” Her voice was low and measured. “The Selkie lost their way when they came inland. They took Rhys trying to survive. I pity their plight, but I do not forgive them. And I’ll never understandwhy they didn’t move north and join a shoal in the Orkneys.”
Her shoulders squared. “They’re not the first creatures from the Otherworld to make their presence known on Latharna, and they won’t be the last.”
She folded her arms. One foot tapped against the floor, and then stilled, as if even that was too much movement. This wasn’t anger—this was something hard and permanent.
If she’d been alone in the boathouse, Malachi had no doubt she would’ve killed them all. The realisation sat in his chest. Not because he doubted Ina’s good intentions or her love for Latharna, but because there was no space in her worldview for anything beyond eliminating a threat.
