“Yes,” Beka said simply. “Your water is free of poison or taint. You and your people can return home tonight.”
Boudicca and Gwrtheyrn looked at each other, the Queen’s eyes brimming with unshed tears, and the King suddenly returned to the vibrant, powerful being Marcus imagined he’d been before all of this started.
They both bowed deeply to Beka, and thanked her with voices that shook, their joy overflowing to cover the sands like sparkling diamonds. Behind them, their guards stayed in formation, standing straight and alert, but their fierce faces were transformed by grins into something much less threatening and much more celebratory.
“We can never thank you enough,” Gwrtheyrn said, his voice gravelly with emotion. “If there is ever aught you need from the people under the sea, you have but to ask and it will be given to you.”
A voice from behind Marcus said, “I hope that goes for me too,” and his father walked down from the dunes.
Marcus forgot to breathe, and Beka grabbed his hand, squeezing tight as if to remind him that he was not alone.
“Da,” he said. “You can’t mean it. You’re not going to let them turn you into a seal, are you?”
“A Selkie,” Gwrtheyrn corrected, and added, “Indeed, our offer to you still stands, fisherman. You are welcome to join us if you wish.”
Marcus opened his mouth to protest, but his father shook his head. “I’m dying, son, and you know it. If I stay, my ending is certain, and not a pleasant one. I would rather spend whatever time I have left living in the waters I have always loved.” He gave a genuine laugh; the first Marcus ever remembered hearing. “And whether or not the change to Selkie can cure me, I can be sure that it will be the adventure of a lifetime. How can you argue with that?”
He couldn’t, really. But Marcus was surprised to discover how much he was going to miss the old man.
“I never could win an argument with you, Da,” Marcus said, feeling emotion rising up in his throat and threatening to choke him. He walked over and gave his father a hug, the first they’d exchanged since he was a small child, trying to put everything he was feeling into the act. “I guess I’m not likely to start doing it now.”
His da hugged him back, his bones feeling as fragile and hollow as a bird’s. “Nay, that you’re not.” The older man stood back and gazed at him, although even now it was clear that half his attention was fixed on the sea beyond.
“I’m sorry I was so hard on you, son. I wasn’t a very good man, or a very good father, and there is no making up for that now,” Marcus Senior said, brushing away Marcus’s feeble attempts at denial. “But I want you to know that I’ve left you the boat; signed it over to your name this afternoon, and all that I’ve got with it, the little that there is.” He glanced from Marcus to Beka, now standing by herself on the sand in front of the King and Queen.
“You make a good life for yourself, boy. That’s all I ever wanted for you anyway. Whether you choose to stay on the water or not, find whatever makes you happy and grasp it with both hands. I love you.” He patted Marcus surprisingly gently on the cheek and walked toward the water people.
Gwrtheyrn shook out a leather pouch, and a vibrant emerald pendant the color of the ocean slid into his palm. “This will keep you safe until we are home and my wizards can make the transformation permanent,” he said, handing it to Marcus’s father. “Put it around your neck right before you go under, and you’ll be able to swim and breathe like one of us until we can change your form.”
The King and Queen nodded one more time at Beka and vanished under the waves with their guards. Marcus Senior hesitated for a moment, then smiled at Marcus and Beka.
“Take care of each other,” he said, and walked into the sea.
*
BEKA SAT ON the damp sand and watched the foam curl lace-edged on the sand and then retreat. Just like life—something always coming, always going. Beautiful, unpredictable, implacable in its perpetual and constant change. No matter how much you wanted things to stay the same, they never did.
Sometimes they changed for the better. Sometimes they changed for the worse. But they always changed.
Marcus had been standing by the surf, staring out over the water as if he could see into the secret realms underneath. Or maybe just brooding; it was hard to tell. Either way, she couldn’t blame him. After a while, he wandered over and sat next to Beka.
“You’re crying,” he said, sounding a little surprised. “You never cry.”
She shrugged a little, her tee shirt and jeans feeling strangely constricting after the long, flowing dress she’d worn earlier. Her heart felt constricted, too, as if metal bars had formed around it, tightening into bands so firm she could feel them crushing into the flesh, making her pulse seem ragged and uneven.