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Merletta started, looking fascinated by the sensation of the fabric encasing her. “What’s this?” she asked.

Heath couldn’t help laughing at her amazement. “A simple traveling cloak,” he informed her. “It’s not as good as being properly dressed for winter, but it is thick.”

“Thank you,” said Merletta, pulling it close. She looked snug in the overlarge garment, and utterly adorable. “I’ve never seen you wear anything like this before.”

“I don’t need it on Vazula,” Heath reminded her.

She shook her head in amazement. “You said it got cold here, but I’m not sure I quite believed it. It’s amazing—I didn’t really feel the cold before I changed from tail to legs. I guess my underwater form is built for the depths, and it’s probably colder down there than up here.”

Heath nodded absently. “Did you say Tish before? Your friend from the charity home?” He scanned the water.

“She’s out deeper,” Merletta told him, something in her voice communicating discomfort. “She’s not coping very well with…all this.” She sighed. “She flatly refuses to even consider coming out of the water. And she was very much against making the journey at all. She was convinced we would all die. But in actual fact, it was mainly uneventful. August led the way, and he knows how to navigate the open ocean better than anyone.”

She’d barely spoken the words when Griffin reappeared, this time with August beside him.

“I can bring up the rear, if you like,” Griffin was saying.

“No,” Merletta responded, her voice flat.

“We’ve talked about this, Griffin,” August agreed. “You’re staying with the others. Merletta assures me she and I will be safe with the hu—” He seemed to catch Merletta’s eye, and changed course mid-word. “Heath. They’ll need the extra protection more than we will.”

“Of course you’ll be safe,” said Heath, perhaps a touch too eagerly.

But he didn’t really feel the need to hide his reluctance to host Griffin. He would prefer just Merletta, of course, but he’d take August over Griffin any day. The youngest of the guards had always been hostile toward him, and surely Heath couldn’t be the only one to grasp why.

“Well, then.” August hoisted himself onto the rock with surprising grace, his muscled tail turning rapidly into two equally muscled legs. He pushed himself to his feet, hands planted on his hips as water dripped off his scaly shorts. “Brisk, isn’t it? How far to where you live?”

“I, uh…this way.” Heath gestured helplessly toward the shore, and the three of them picked their way over the rocks. “I’m afraid it’s quite a distance,” he said apologetically. “I didn’t think to bring more than one—”

“What in the depths is that?!”

Heath looked up quickly, wondering what horror August had seen. But the merman was staring at nothing more intimidating than Heath’s horse.

“That’s what I was talking about,” Heath explained patiently. “I only brought one horse, thinking Merletta would ride with me, since it’s something you have to learn how to do. But the horse won’t be able to carry all three of us.”

“That is not a horse,” August said firmly. “Horses are much smaller.”

Heath hid a smile with an effort. “Well, horses are different from seahorses. An entirely different species, actually.”

“Clearly,” said Merletta, also staring at the mare with unusually wide eyes. “Did you say you want me to ride on that thing, Heath?”

“I won’t let you fall,” he promised with a smile.

She smiled back, another shiver rocking her body as she did so.

“I brought clothes for you,” Heath said quickly, moving to the horse’s saddlebags, where he’d stashed his rucksack. “You can take your pick.”

He pulled out three dresses of different colors and styles, although all were thick and long sleeved.

“Ah, that’s sensible,” said August approvingly. “We’ll need some kind of cover in this cold. I’ll take the purple one.”

He reached out a confident hand and swiped one of the gowns from Heath’s grip. Before Heath could think of how to respond, the guard had started wrapping it around his shoulders, much as Merletta was wearing Heath’s cloak.

“Uh, it’s not really…I mean, you don’t…” Heath rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, torn between humor and embarrassment. “That’s not how you wear them.”

“How do you?” Merletta asked, taking a crimson gown and examining it in fascination.

“Well, like…can I show you?” Heath took the garment from her, bunching it up in his hands and holding it gingerly.


Tags: Deborah Grace White The Vazula Chronicles Fantasy