‘Why is the water sour here?’ asked a confused and unfamiliar voice behind him.
‘What’s your business at the palace?’ Fionn snapped, whirling to face the other Minchman who startled in a cloud of bubbles. The newcomer was a slight thing, which was very unusual for Bluefolk. Short hair rather than braided, Fionn also noted. Some recognition clicked as he realised they’d been introduced before. ‘Neacel, is it?’
The young Minchman perked up. ‘That’s me, Your Highness. Nice to meet you again. I’m sorry you couldn’t join my forage along the reefs. There is a beautiful cave I would have liked to show you out there. Full of crystals. But of course, I realise a prince has more worthy matters to tend to.’
Fionn searched for a hint of sarcasm in Neacel’s round, honest face, and found none. He cast a cursory glance over his tattoos as well: a light string of them across his collarbone proclaimed Neacel’s acuity in foraging, and a solitary mark by his left hip noted that he had once slain a kelpie.
Neacel tapped the tattoo and Fionn froze, realising he’d been staring. Neacel merely gave an answer as though continuing a previous conversation. ‘Ittook me by surprise near the coastline. But it was very small and I got lucky, I must admit.I am not built for fighting.’ He nodded to Fionn’s tattoos. ‘I see you have a string of orcas to your name.’
Fionn puffed out his chest. It was rare that he was given chance to boast of his accomplishments—which paled by comparison to the likes of Iomhar and other warriors. ‘I rid our waters of a pod that was terrorising our people,’ he explained, exaggerating the truth just a little.
‘Wow. A whole pod.’
Fionn preened.
‘That must be humbling, having to kill a whole family.’
Fionn deflated. The way Neacel said it whisked his pride away. ‘I was protecting our kingdom,’ he muttered.
‘No doubt.’ Neacel smiled and fell silent. After a long moment of feeling awkward, Fionn discerned that the young Minchman was waiting for him to cross the boundary into the palace waters first as a sign of respect.
Fionn scowled and gestured at the boundary. ‘After you. I won’t be going in just now.’
Neacel still seemed reluctant to pass him. No surprise, as everyone knew to keep a wide berth around the First Prince. He was like a piece of glass that nobody dared go near for fear of breaking. No one wanted to be responsible for fouling the bargain with the Redfolk.
Fionn made a show of gliding backward and waving the way clear for Neacel. ‘Don’t fear. I shan’t shatter if you happen to brush me with a ripple.’
To his surprise, Neacel chuckled. ‘I should think it would take much greater effort to put a dent in you, Your Highness. Actually, I wish to ask you a question.’
‘Speak it.’
For the first time Neacel seemed to squirm, hesitating before he replied.
‘Tonight I am attending a gathering in the human settlement at Ullapool. I wondered if you would like to join me? Not just me—some of our warriors are attending, too,’ he added quickly, as though that would sweeten the proposition.
Fionn’s eyes narrowed. ‘Did Iomhar put you up to this?’
A flash of panic stole Neacel’s song from him. ‘Um…’
‘I knew it. He needs to keep out of my business.’ Fionn gave a trill of disgust and turned to swim away.
‘Your Highness!’ Neacel followed him, drawing fitfully alongside as if moving to—but not quite daring to—cut him off. ‘Please. It is not all Iomhar’s idea.’
Fionn’s frown deepened. ‘Oh? You also think I’m lonely and wasting away my youth, do you?’
Neacel blinked rapidly, his innocent face betraying that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind at all. ‘I don’t think so, Your Highness. I actually hoped…’
Neacel winced, leaving the unsaid words to falter into silence.
‘Hoped what?’ Fionn demanded. His DeepSong came out as more of a bark and Neacel shied away.
Neacel took a deep breath and closed his eyes. ‘I wish to court a member of your guard and Iomhar suggested that you might help me make an introduction.’
Fionn’s instinctive response to this was more resentment. Every other Minchman could choose their lovers. Could use a phrase as sickly-sweet as ‘to court’ someone, rather than having the choice thrust upon them.
Perhaps the bitterness was plain on Fionn’s face, or the water took on the taste of his rancour, because Neacel retreated, clutching at the seaweed satchel slung across his chest.
Still, wasn’t this a member of the kingdom asking him for help? Fionn fought to rein in some of his bitterness. Neacel’s request was sincere and it was one that Fionn had the power to grant.
