I narrow my eyes slightly as I take a few steps closer, tilting my head to study him. “A generous lady, then. Which one?”
He presses his lips together, clearly considering his options, before settling on silence.
My gaze sharpens. I should’ve never let that hat out of sight.
“Does this lady,” I continue, my tone calm, “happen to have a tail?”
He bites down on his lower lip, and that is answer enough. A quiet breath escapes me, close to a laugh this time, though I shake my head as I reach down and adjust the brim of the hat where it sits far too low over his eyes.
“You’ll ruin it,” I mutter, and his expression shifts, uncertainty flickering through his eyes, as if he expects me to take it back. I catch myself before I issue any further reprimand. He’s just a boy after all, and a young pirate nonetheless.
“Keep it,” I add after a moment and offer him a smile. “You’ll grow into it.”
Lark sighs in relief and nods, his attention falling back to the wheel.
I step onto the plank and return to the pier, the sound of the crashing water growing louder as I near its edge. The tide has shifted a little, the surface darker now, the movement beneath it difficult to decipher by someone who doesn’t know what to look for.
I do.
I stop at the edge and let my gaze drift over the water, my arms crossing loosely over my chest as I tilt my head slightly.
“So,” I say, my voice carrying out over the sea, “Where is this beautiful, tailed girl who has taken it upon herself to distribute my belongings?”
There is no immediate answer. A faint ripple breaks the surface a few feet away, followed by another, and then another, each one slightly closer than the last.
“I know you’re there, little fish,” I add, softer this time.
The water stills for a moment, as if holding its breath.
Then she rises.
Only her eyes break the surface, white and foggy, fixed on me with a look I have come to know far too well. Even like this, I cansee the hint of amusement in her features. The small wrinkles around her eyes give it away.
My gaze lingers on her for a moment, taking in what little of her is visible, though it is more than enough.
My vicious, sweet siren, Eryse.
“There you are,” I whisper.
Her expression does not change.
“Tell me,” I continue, my tone shifting into seriousness. “Why did you give away the hat you stole from me?”
Her brows lift, and her face emerges from the water, revealing her rosy, soft-looking lips.
“I didn’t steal it,” she replies, her voice smooth. “I found it.”
“Of course you did,” I say. “And I suppose it simply slipped off my head and into your hands by pure coincidence.”
“Exactly,” she says with a smile. “The tide brought it to me. Remember?”
I shake my head with a laugh, remembering how she refused to give me back my hat. Little did she know that I could’ve taken it from her in an instant, but I let her keep it, because I knew she’d look breathtaking in it.
“You have the looks of a siren,” I tell her, my gaze steady on hers, “but the mouth of a pirate.”
Her smirk deepens. “Well,” she says, tilting her head slightly. “I am a siren and a pirate.”
Something in my chest loosens at the ease with which she says it, as if both things can exist without contradiction. She has never really acknowledged her pirate heritage, not until now. Words cannot describe how much that means to me. For her to embrace every part of her, be it siren or pirate.
