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“I warned ye this would ’appen.”

Trevik’s words ended abruptly as Edern walked toward him, his grandson in tow. Rain poured down from the brims of their caps as Edern stared at Trevik condemningly.

“Go ’ome, Edern,” Gryffyn said beside Trevik, crossing his arms over his barreled chest. “Ain’t no good’ll come from speakin’ o’ this now.”

“No, I’ll speak of it when it pleases me,” Edern growled back, turning to Trevik again. “Ye shouldn’t ’ave given that girl refuge in your ’ome. This storm, the lugger bein’ damaged, it be a direct result of ’er presence ’ere, and ye know it.”

A weary weight pressed hard against Trevik’s shoulders, as if the waves battering the lugger now battered his soul. Morvoren had cut him to his core. Even now, their conversations echoed in his mind, recurring over and over again like the rain pelting his face.

The kiss meant nothin’.

She be leavin’ for Bodmin.

She don’t like fishermen or their way o’ life.

She’d wounded his pride and broken his heart. He’d offered her his world, and she’d turned her back on him, stripping him of his hope and leaving his soul exposed.

Gryffyn’s clipped words cut through his thoughts. “Ye can’t truly be so daft as to believe that girl be the cause o’ all this, Edern.”

“Can’t I?” Edern challenged. “Then ’ow can ye explain ’er behavior now?”

Trevik drew his attention to Edern, but the man merely tossed his head to the cliffside. Slowly, the four of them peered up to where he motioned.

Standing at the top of the cliffs near Trevik’s home, Morvoren peered down over the wreckage. Her chin was level and her footing sure, despite the wind whipping her sodden skirts against her legs and pulling her blonde strands loosened from her chignon behind her with the storm. Her expression was hardly visible from their position near the dock, and yet, from where they stood, Trevik couldn’t deny what he saw any longer—a pleased, proud, and scorned mermaid.

“That right there,” Edern said, his voice low and threatening, “that be the sight of a sea-maid lordin’ o’er ’er work, proud o’ what she done to us all. And ye…just…let ’er.” He spaced out his words, each one a dagger into Trevik’s back. “Ye’ve forfeited the trust we ’ad in ye, Trevik. Jowan and I will no longer be workin’ with ye.”

Trevik pulled his gaze from Morvoren, darting at once to the Cardys. He’d feared them doing this from the beginning, but to have Edern actually saying the words stung harsher than he’d ever thought. Would they be the only crew members who’d leave? Or would others soon follow? “Edern, ye can’t be serious.”

The man didn’t respond, Jowan either. He didn’t look as sure as his grandfar, but his eyes were wary as he peered up at Morvoren.

“As if ye could find work elsewhere,” Gryffyn growled, clearly having none of the Cardys’ nonsense.

“We’ve taken work with the Trenary seiners. Started a few days past.”

“What?” Gryffyn barked out. “Ye traitorous—”

“They give fair wages,” Edern said without remorse. “Fair wages and more work ’an Trevik can offer we now.”

Trevik swallowed his disgust. Surely he could still salvage this. “Edern, ye’ve worked with me since me father—”

“I ’ave,” he interrupted again. “And I would’ve continued, were we followin’ your father. That man ’ad more sense. ’E ne’er would’ve forfeited the security of ’is men for a sea-maid’s song.”

Gryffyn lunged toward Edern in an instant with a snarl, but Jowan—still a full head shorter than Gryffyn, but just as thick round the shoulders—stood before his grandfar.

“Ye don’t know Trevik’s father then at all,” Gryffyn said, his fists clenched as he peered over Jowan’s head. “Locryn ne’er would’ve let the maid suffer as ye wished ’er to. Trevik’s done ’im proud, and the rest o’ the crew, too.”

Trevik remained silent through it all, Edern’s words once again breaking his spirit.

Edern merely sniffed in derision at Gryffyn’s defense of Trevik. “Proud? ’Is father’d be ashamed.” Then he walked away, Jowan right behind him as they trekked up the cliffside toward their home.

“Don’t listen to ’im, Trevik,” Gryffyn advised. “’E be mad, as ye well know.”

Trevik tried to nod in agreement, tried not to become too dismayed. After all, what did it matter if the Cardys left if he didn’t have a lugger to fish from anyway? But when he cast his eyes up at Morvoren, who still stood standing on the cliffside, his heart hardened.

Edern was right. He’d been right all along. No, Morvoren wasn’t a sea-maid, but Trevik never should have allowed her to remain in his home. Not only had he chosen her above his crew, he’d encouraged her to stay, chose her over the Cardys, even though he knew an upheaval would certainly occur.

And how had she repaid him? How had she repaid him for all of it? She still chose to leave. She’d kissed him, ignored him, injured his sister, and now…this, standing above a grief-stricken Tristwick without a care in the world, all while his crew crumbled to pieces because of her?