Merletta laughed. “I still can’t believe you thought I was a human.” She shook her head, her eyes passing slowly over Heath’s form. “I certainly didn’t mistake you for a merman, not even for an instant.” She reached forward, tugging lightly on the strange fabric wrapped around his legs. “What are these coverings? Why do you wear so much over your whole body?”
“Uh…” Heath looked faintly pink, and she observed the changes in his face in fascination.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Should I not have asked that? Is it normal for humans to cover themselves?” She glanced at the dragon. “Rekavidur doesn’t seem to be wearing coverings.”
“Of course not,” said Reka calmly. “Like you, I have scales. Humans do not, and they try to overcompensate for it with their excessive use of clothes.”
“That’s not quite how I would put it,” said Heath dryly. His flush had subsided, and there was a smile in his eyes as he looked back at Merletta. “Yes, it is normal for humans to wear clothes, even in this blasted heat. Mine are simple compared to many people’s. And of course you can ask that. You can ask me anything. I’m sure you’re as curious about my people as I am about yours.” He glanced around, his eyes latching on to a large flat rock nearby. “Come on.”
He made his way over to it, sitting on its surface with his legs fully dangling into the water. He didn’t seem to mind being wet. Merletta wondered if all humans were like that, or if he was unusual, like her with her love of being on the surface.
“Is that…” Heath gestured to Merletta’s shells, trying to sound casual and not quite succeeding. “Is what you’re wearing normal for mermaids?”
Merletta followed him over. He had chosen the spot well, as the water was deep enough for her to properly float, even while leaning her elbows on the rock. She looked up into his face, fascinated by the familiarity of his features. If she kept her eyes off the disconcerting legs, he could absolutely have been a merman.
“Yes,” she answered belatedly. “Mermen don’t have them, of course, but all mermaids wear shells like these.” She grimaced. “Well, not like these, exactly. Mine are also simple. Mermaids like to adorn themselves, and those who can afford it wear very elaborate coverings, among other things.” She chuckled to herself. “I saw a mermaid from Skulssted once who had such an enormous rope of pearls in her hair that you could hardly see the hair at all.” She shook her head. “But that’s Skulssted for you. Pretentious with their wealth a lot of the time.” Her tone turned dry. “You can be sure that us beneficiaries weren’t exactly strutting around with ropes of pearls.”
“Beneficiaries?” Heath repeated curiously.
Merletta looked up, thrown all over again by the sight of his legs—clad in black—still dangling in the water. She’d almost forgotten. He was so easy to talk to, it was hard to believe he was an impossible, mythical creature.
“Oh, that’s what we’re called,” she responded absently. “In the charity home where I grew up. I’m an orphan.” She added the explanation matter-of-factly, no particular emotion attached to it, but Heath’s eyes instantly softened.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “It must be devastating to lose both of your parents. I would be heartbroken to lose mine.”
Merletta blinked, for a moment unsure how to answer. It occurred to her that she couldn’t remember anyone ever saying such a thing to her. People from outside the home tended to look down on the orphans, as though their misfortune said something about them and their worthiness. Even Tish, the sweetest mermaid in the kingdoms, had never actually told Merletta that she was sorry her parents had died.
With shame, Merletta realized she’d never said that to Tish, either. She’d never thought of it. Being orphans was just part of who they were, not something they could change, and not something there was any point bemoaning. Those at the home didn’t encourage the beneficiaries to seek sympathy over it.
And yet Heath, not only a stranger, but an unfamiliar species, had gone even further than sympathy. He’d actually put himself in her place, imagining how he would feel to live her experiences. It was an unheard of reaction to her misfortunes, and she found it strangely empowering.
“Thank you,” she said at last, her voice quiet. “You have a very kind heart, I think.” She shook her head slightly, her voice growing more cheerful. “But it’s all I’ve ever known, so it’s not so devastating, really. My parents died when I was an infant. I have no memory of them. The home didn’t even know who they were—I have no last name.” She looked curiously at Heath. “How about you? You have a family, then?”
He nodded, his expression still subdued, apparently on her behalf. “Yes, my parents are both living, and I have an older sister, Laura, the sweetest person you’ll meet. She’s twenty-two, and was married about a year ago, so she doesn’t live with us any longer. Then there’s my brother, Percival, who’s twenty.” He chuckled to himself. “Perce is a force to be reckoned with.” His eyes returned to hers, a humorous light in them. “Then there’s me.”
Merletta nodded, but before she could answer, the dragon broke in. “I find your magic fascinating.”
Merletta started, not having realized how close the huge scaled creature had approached. He was perched on the rocks to one side of her, but he had snaked his long neck toward her, and he was sniffing the air faintly.
“My magic?” she repeated warily. “What do you mean?”
“You’re a creature of magic,” Rekavidur said simply. “You weren’t aware of it?”
“I…I don’t think so,” Merletta responded hesitantly. She glanced at Heath, whose brow was furrowed in thought. “I mean, I know that our ancestors had an ancient magic that allowed them to create the barrier, but that’s long in the past now. None of us have magic that I’ve ever heard of.”
“Curious,” said Rekavidur, apparently to himself. He sat back on his haunches, regarding her. “You are telling the truth, or at least, as best you know it.”
“Of course she’s telling the truth,” said Heath defensively, and Merletta raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t been offended by the dragon’s comment. Dishonesty was so universal in her experience that she couldn’t blame Rekavidur for questioning her truthfulness. She was completely unknown to him, after all.
“What was that about a barrier, Merletta?” Heath asked. “Are you talking about the ring of magic that’s around this island?”
Merletta shook her head. “No, I’m talking about the barrier around the triple kingdoms. It’s not a physical barrier—it’s a ward of sorts that keeps dangerous creatures out, and prevents us from detection by…” she glanced at the dragon, “by outsiders.” She looked back at Heath. “We’re well outside it now. The island’s not within it.” She grimaced slightly. “The island is most definitely not within it. The truth is, I’m not strictly supposed to be outside the barrier. Only the guards and the hunters usually leave. I have to sneak out.” She gestured to the water behind her. “But there’s so much to discover—a whole ocean! How could I want to stay confined in one small bubble of it?”
“I know exactly what you mean,” said Heath, a familiar light in his eyes. “I feel the same way.” He glanced at the dragon. “So does Reka, although he won’t admit to being restless. It’s what drew us together. His colony encourages exploration even less than my people do.”
The dragon didn’t respond, still scrutinizing Merletta in silence, apparently trying to identify her supposed magic.
“Is that some kind of satchel?” Heath asked, pointing to the strap over Merletta’s shoulder. “It looks like kelp.”