“I’m sorry, too.” Fynn’s hand covered mine. “Sorry that I had to show you something that scared you. Only when I tried to go, to return to the water like you wanted, I realized I couldn’t leave you with the fossegrim still hunting here.” My heart thudded in my ears as I listened. “Even if I’m a monster, too.”
Hearing my words repeated back at me stung like a slap. “I didn’t mean that.”
He squeezed my hand. “I showed you something I doubt most people here could comprehend, let alone accept. But I trusted you when you said you wanted the truth.” He laced his fingers through mine. “I still trust you.”
I drew in a deep breath and met his eyes. “I want to trust you, too. That’s why you must tell me everything.”
Fynn swept his gaze across the tavern. “Bridey.” He spoke my name like a warning, or a plea.
Lowering my voice to a whisper, I leaned forward. “I’ve seen what you are. Now I need to know who you are. And don’t spare any detail.”
Fynn grimaced. “This isn’t the right place for such talk.”
As if to prove his point, Ms. Katleen bustled over to our side. “It’s so nice to see you, dear.” She clamped a heavy hand on my shoulder. “And I’ve already met your charming friend. Are you hungry?” Her auburn curls bobbed around her chin as she spoke.
Fynn shook his head. I mumbled, “Not really,” but a loud growl from my stomach drowned my words.
“What can I get you, then?” Ms. Katleen asked with a knowing look. “Name anything.”
“Loaghtan lamb for me, please.” I hoped to send her away from the table quickly. “Herrin’ for him. And a bonnag to share.”
The instant Ms. Katleen whisked her way toward the kitchen, I reached across the table and gently prodded Fynn in the chest. “You lied to me about not knowing the glashtyn. You made me fall for you while pretending to be something you aren’t—human. So you owe me this. And there will never be a perfect time to talk. Now, out with it.”
Fynn sighed, but finally agreed. “There isn’t much to tell. I was born eighteen years ago at the mouth of a bay near the Welsh coast. My father taught me to hunt.”
“Hunt what?”
“Fish, mostly. And seals.” He gave an apologetic smile. “He also taught me to speak English, so I could go on land if I chose. But I preferred to hunt in deeper water, where there’s bigger game like sharks and whales.”
I suppressed a shudder. Dozens of questions raced through my mind, making it difficult to choose just one. “What about your mam?”
“She was human, if my father told me the truth. I never sought her out. When I was ten, Father left me to fend for myself.” He paused when I arched my brows. “Don’t make that face. It’s our custom.”
“Well, I think it’s terrible.” Though I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear that the ocean was as brutal a place as I’d imagined.
“Any more questions?”
“We’ve only just begun.” I leaned closer. “What’s your real name?”
The question made him laugh, low and melodic, in a way that made my stomach flutter. “Nothing I can pronounce in this tongue. Besides, I like ‘Fynn.’”
I hoped the dim lighting would disguise the furious blush in my cheeks. “I’m glad. How long do glashtyns live?”
“Longer than you. About a human life and a half.” He smiled. “Which just means you’ll never have to miss me, assuming you don’t wish me to return to the sea.”
“What were you doing near Port Coire when the serpent attacked you?”
He regarded me solemnly, shaking his head. “Other questions?”
“Fynn, this is important. There are monsters in the water waiting to kill my family and friends. Were you coming to help the fossegrim? Or the serpent?”
His lip curled. “No. Glashtyns and serpents hate each other. Always have. But if I tell you what I was doing, you have to promise not to think less of me.” He took both my hands in his, and a slight tremor passed between us. “I’d gone on land in human form—not this island, but another close by—to hunt a girl.”
I reached for Fynn’s glass and lifted it to my lips. He raised his brows as I took a gulp of the bitter liquid. It made me cough, but warmth spread through my chest. “Right. Because glashtyns drown women.”
Fynn sighed, his breath grazing my cheek. “It’s our nature.” Seeing my stony stare, he hurriedly whispered, “I would never hurt you. You really did save my life that day on the beach. Glashtyns know of places deep underwater where we can sometimes heal, if we reach them in time, but the sea had spat me out and left me to die …”
He fell silent, as though the memory pained him. Then he met my eyes and continued, “When I woke after the fight, there you were. I should have wanted to carry you off into the water, yet all I longed to do was wipe the worry from your eyes. I can’t explain why I’ve lost the urge to hunt. But I have no desire to harm you. Never have, even when I took you swimming.”
I took a second sip of the ale, then pushed the glass toward Fynn. I’d had enough. “I can explain the change. Well, a little.” Morag’s tale of blood magic was still fresh in my mind. Seeing Fynn’s wide-eyed look of amazement tugged a reluctant smile from my lips. “I’ll tell you later. Right now, I want to know more about—”