‘I believe we should pursue our own fate,’ Fionn said, strong and certain in his answer. ‘Not suffer the one assigned to us by others.’
Rory’s features briefly scrunched in thought. ‘How’s that different to suffering a fate determined by some other power? Like, for example, a magic soul bond.’ His tone wasn’t hostile, or even unfriendly, but it was as just dry as Neacel’s could be when pointing out a flaw in Fionn’s logic. Loaded with the quiet intelligence that Fionn felt Rory was good at hiding.
‘It’s different because it belongs to us,’ Fionn answered, squeezing Rory’s shoulders. ‘And because no one can take it away from us.’
‘Ha…’ Rory bowed his head, connecting his temple with Fionn’s again. ‘Do you know what I hate most about this merman soul bond business?’
‘What?’
‘It means I’ve definitely run out of excuses for myself. I can’t stay here, knowing this. Knowing there really is more out there for me. That there was all along.’ He breathed in deeply and looked toward the horizon. ‘How far can we swim in a day?’
Fionn hesitated. He was expected back at the palace. The wedding preparations were in full swing. But Rory’s words echoed in his head. There were no more excuses not to leave it all behind. At least for today. Rory was right by his side, and that meant his fate was whatever he wished to make of it.
‘Shall we find out?’ Fionn said, his own voice sounding far away. He was adrift on a sea of imagined futures. ‘Let’s see how strong you are, Rory Douglas.’
Chapter Twenty
Rory stripped down to his boxers, leaving the rest floating on the waves towards the shore. Then Fionn dived and Rory followed without a second thought. His gills kicked in quicker than his lungs had, allowing his last breath to leave in a stream of bubbles as he swam after Fionn.
‘Breathing’ through his gills was a weird sensation. A lot like breathing, in fact, but more… sloshy. How breathing would feel if air had weight to it, and the ability to be swirled around by gravity.
Once he’d caught up, Rory stuck to Fionn’s side as they swam. Rory guessed the merman could have shot off at a much faster pace but was going slow for his benefit. He was grateful. The vastness of this underwater world was disorienting.
The water was a little murky in the loch, but as it opened onto the Minch and the silt bed fell further away Rory found his vision becoming clearer. After blinking multiple times against a discomfort in his eyes, he realised it felt like there was a transparent film clinging to his eyeballs to protect them. He’d never worn contact lenses, but he imagined this was how it would feel.
The water became an endless haze of shadows the deeper they went. Rory quickly lost his grip on direction and soon waved a hand to indicate that he wanted to return to the surface. Fionn nodded and led the way up.
This time, Rory remembered to wait until his gills had drained before trying to take a breath. Air flowed in, oddly light and insubstantial by comparison.
‘You are all right?’ Fionn asked, his eyes intense with concern.
The coastline was further away than Rory expected. He felt a rush of excitement knowing there was a chance he might not go back. ‘I’m good. Just wanted to… I dunno, needed to check where I was, if that makes sense. It would be easier if I could talk to you down there.’
‘You should try. It is my hope that DeepSong may come naturally to you,’ Fionn said as though Rory should know what he was talking about.
Thinking back to when they’d sunk with Rory’s mouth wrapped around Fionn’s cock—Don’t think about that now!—Rory vaguely remembered musical words that he’d half-heard and half-felt in the water. ‘Is that the weird singing you did before?’
‘It is notweird.It is an ancient language that all sentient marine creatures can understand, and that most can speak.’
‘How am I supposed to do it?’ Rory asked doubtfully.
‘Sing.’
Without giving him space to answer, Fionn ducked below the surface. His hand popped back up, beckoning Rory to join him.
Rory took a deep breath (forgetting he wouldn’t have to hold it) and dropped just below the sweeping waves.
‘Sing to me,’ Fionn said, or sang. Rory felt the words enter his ears, muffled and musical, but the meaning of them arrived in his brain like an unspoken thought.
He opened his mouth and attempted to make a sound. All that happened was the air in his lungs burst out in one giant bubble.Blubwas not the noise he’d been aiming for.
‘You must feel the words,’ Fionn explained. ‘Allow your feeling to travel through the water.’
Rory rolled his eyes. A language based on feelings, those things he felt least adept at communicating.
He reached deep for something honest and real to put into words.
‘You… are… unbelievable,’ Rory sang. It was stilted and less melodious than Fionn’s, but the words found shape in the water regardless.
