The Red King’s guards didn’t relax an inch, keeping their spears menacingly pointed at more or less the entire chamber.King Rhiath took up a position between them. The water around him undulated with heat from the fury in his DeepSong.
‘Even I did not think you would be so foolish as to blight the marriage bargain, Aonghas. What trickery have you employed to achieve this?’ The Red King’s finned arm swept broadly in Rory and Fionn’s direction, though he didn’t care to even glance their way.
By contrast, the Blue King’s song was absent of any obvious emotion. His words were only tense and flat. ‘No trickery, Rhiath. No blight. We shall find the truth immediately.’
The rest of the blue congregation backed off into the furthest reaches of the curved room, all their attention anchored on the Blue King who now swam towards Rory and Fionn. Rory couldn’t read the merman’s expression: it was dark like a brewing storm, yet Rory could have sworn it was apprehension rather than anger that fuelled the thunder in the Blue King’s gaze.
‘Fionn. Explain.’
Familiar fear billowed from Fionn’s side of the soul bond.
Rory clasped Fionn’s hand tightly and snapped to his side, staring down the Blue King like any other wannabe-big-man at the docks. Except Rory wasn’t just posturing for his own dignity this time; it was for Fionn’s, and for their right to live the way they chose. There was a real threat in the way Rory’s other fist curled. Controlled anger, this time. Purposeful anger, to defend what he loved.
The king’s gaze flicked blankly over Rory and back to Fionn.
Fionn’s nerves settled, soothed by Rory’s frankly audacious protectiveness pouring through the bond. Fionn lifted his head high.
‘This is Rory Douglas and he is my mate,’ Fionn announced to a slew of gasps from the crowd.
‘Treason,’ hissed the Red King.
Fionn raised his voice. ‘I met Rory on land, thinking he was human. Our soul bond ignited spontaneously because of the Redfolk blood in Rory’s veins.’
Rory flexed his arm fins for effect. There were some troubled murmurs happening among the Redfolk contingent.
‘Lies. You have engineered this bond.’ The Red King spoke directly to the Blue King. ‘Do you think you can thwart the marriage bargain simply by replacing it with a bond you have ignited yourself? You are worse than a fool!’
‘I have done no such thing,’ the Blue King replied levelly. ‘And to suggest so is also treasonous.How can I be sure that this circumstance is not due to the machinations ofyourpeople?’
‘What would I gain from this?’ the Red King spat.
The Blue King appeared to shrug. ‘I wouldn’t presume to know your motivations.’ He gave an elegant flick of his fingers in Rory’s direction. ‘But the boy is clearly Redfolk, after all.’
Rory riled inwardly atboy,but knew it was the wrong thing to get hung up on right now. He couldn’t tell whether the Blue King was on their side. It felt like Fionn didn’t know either.
Whatever the case, Rory was done being just a spectator in his own life.
He thrust himself forward, making sure his fins and spines took up as much space as possible.
‘I’m not with them,’ he cocked his head at the Redfolk, ‘or with them,’ he jabbed a finger at the Bluefolk, ‘I’m just me. And I’m sure it’s a real bastard of a thing that I’ve gotten caught up in your wedding plans, but that’s how it is. This is all in line with your curse thing anyway, right? Fionn’s got his bond. I’m one of you so it shouldn’t matter. It’s the same thing.’
Ah, shit, he was butchering it. Public speaking was never a big part of creel fishing. Rory trailed off with a note of uncertainty colouring his song.
Then Fionn drew next to him, supporting him. ‘One might call it fate, father.’ His song was imploring. ‘I thought Rory was my soul mate. Truly, I still do.’
Oh, Christ, the blue idiot was side-eyeing Rory with a practicallyshyfucking smile. The part of Rory that was silently panicking under all the attention couldn’t help but melt a little.
‘Yup,’ Rory added gruffly. ‘We’re probably meant to be together. We’ve decided to be, anyhow.’
If the water around the Red King had been simmering before, it wasboilingnow. ‘There is no deciding. We decide. We—’
‘I do not think so.’
All heads turned to a blue Minchman as he entered the room. Rory pegged him as an elder of some sort because of the grey streaks in his dark blue hair. But he wasbufffor an elder. No flab or loose skin whatsoever, it was all muscle. He carried a bronze spear strapped to his back and a heavy clay tablet in his hands. The blue side of the chamber parted to let him through without question.
The Blue King greeted him with a strangely mild tone. ‘It is unlike you to be late, Iomhar.’
The old Minchman’s smile was grim as he surveyed the assembly. ‘I am much later than I hoped to be.’ Iomhar nodded to Fionn and Rory, then turned to address the chamber. He held up the clay tablet.
