Prince's Tide, page 1
Prince's Tide
M.L. Eaden
Copyright © 2023 by M.L. Eaden
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Edited By Victoria Flickinger: flickeringwords.com
Cover Art By Hollyanne Hook: etsy.com/shop/SupernaturalByHolly
Print ISBN: 978-1-956128-29-1 EBook ISBN: 978-1-956128-28-4
Published in cooperation with Chaotic Neutral Press LLC.
Content Warnings: Explicit on-page sex. Capture, torture, imprisonment by antagonist, teratophilia.
Queer Stories based in myth, legend, and the uniquely mundane.
Contents
1. Once Upon A Time
2. Two Legs
3. The Redhead
4. Communication
5. Explanations Needed
6. Sweet Tooth
7. Braids
8. Out & About
9. Dead Things
10. Anticipation
11. Conundrum
12. Clarity
13. Oh For Pete's Sake
14. The Gulf
15. Coastal Waters
16. Like Royalty
17. Anatomy Lesson
18. New Season
19. Learning Curve
20. The Blue Dress
21. Healing Touch
22. Perfect Storm
23. Woven Reeds & Words
24. Torn Loyalties
25. Sacrifices
26. Overwhelmed
27. Hallucinations
28. Thin Patience
29. A Relative Problem
30. Marking Time
31. Moment Of Truth
32. Test Of Wills
33. Yearend Feast
34. The Lost
35. Lover's Marks
36. Inheritance
37. Stasis
38. Guardians
39. Safe Harbor
40. Traps
41. Old Friends
42. Coming Home
43. We Are Family
44. Epilogue Of Pete
Once Upon A Time
Royce
“Once upon a time, right?” I chuckled. “That’s how most fairy tales start. Mine’s no different.” The crew were mostly greenhorns, finishing their first season. Kristy and Pete were the only ones that had been with me longer, and Pete had been on my boat for almost a decade now. Tonight was for teaching the greenhorns how to tell tall tales—and drinking. “It’s a long tradition and I have one, if you’re willing to listen.”
It was the whiskey talking, mostly. I knew that, yet I couldn’t help myself. My crew was sitting around a table we had commandeered, most of them drunk, too.
“About this time last year,” I started, “I was sitting in this very bar, sipping my drink, wondering if I should retire. See, something strange happened to me a week before, not far off of San José Island, when I was securing the boat. A trapline or rigging, not sure which, hit me and I was thrown overboard.”
I continued the story to their rapt attention. The sounds of the bar around us faded into the background. Logan’s Pub, named after the guy that first started the place, or a legend, no one was really sure, had that evening air of mystery with low lighting and hushed conversations. A storm was coming in, and everyone who had a boat in port was here waiting it out.
“I was alone on deck. Our vigilant first mate, old Pete over there—” Pete was trying to hide his red-faced embarrassment in his beer. His ears were pink, and his brown hair and red beard didn’t help the situation. Some of the crew chuckled.
“He left me all by my lonesome.” There were appropriate hisses and boos in recognition of the safety issue.
We had caught little that week, and the crew wanted to go ashore for a night. Kristy had volunteered to take the group to Port Aransas, which wasn’t too far away. I let them take the tender while Pete and I kept an eye on the boat. It didn’t hurt that we had traps set in the area. We were trying a long soak and planned to pick them up later, hoping we’d increase our catch.
“You left him alone, Pete?” one of the crew asked.
“Marcy called.” More groans from the crew. They all knew how badly he had it for the local baker. “I didn’t expect him to keep working without me. He knows better.” He pointed a finger at me as he finished his beer. “So don’t groan at me.”
It definitely wasn’t his fault. I should have waited for him to come back, but when he gets to talking with Marcy, it could be ten minutes or two hours. I continued my story as if I wasn’t interrupted.
“I, being your fearless and careless captain, saw a loose rig and thought I would fix it up right quick.” Thinking about what happened that night still scared me. I took a drink to help steady my voice. “But the boat shifted, and something hit me. I was in the water before I could think to call out or yell.” I knew how to swim, but at night it was hard to tell which way was up.
“Right then and there, I knew I was going to die, and I stopped fighting the sea. I figured if this was the cost of twenty years of prosperity for me, my crew, and my family, I’d pay it.”
“What happened next, Captain?” Kristy asked. She was our second, training to take over from Pete or me, depending on how things shook out. Tonight, her hair was free of its usual tight braids, her dark brown eyes alight with interest. Even dressed in overalls, work boots, and a tank top, she had her pick of admirers.
“Well, once you decide to stop fighting, the sea either takes you or throws you out.” I took another drink. I was fairly sure they would think it was a drinking story, which was fine by me. I almost didn’t believe it myself. “Instead, it sent me the most handsome face I’d ever seen, attached to a swimmer’s body with fins. They grabbed me by the collar and hauled me up to the surface. Next thing I knew, I was staring into their face. They had black orbs for eyes, but they weren’t unkind. They reminded me of the sea on a moonless night. I gasped for breath as we held onto a trap buoy close to the boat.”
No one said anything. A few looked surprised. Others took pulls from their drinks. No one checked their phones, though they were all in plain sight on the table. My drink made me brave enough to talk. Only the sea knows why.
“I had no idea where they came from, or why they had bothered to drag me to the surface. Their webbed, taloned hand reached to touch my face.” I mimicked the motion. Every pair of eyes followed my hand as if they were seeing it for themselves. “Their hand slid across my jaw in a curious manner, like they’d never seen a beard. They had none themselves, though the hair on their head was red as blood and their skin was blue, I can’t quite describe.” The light from the boat had flashed across their hair and skin, showing the rich colors.
“I hacked up a lung as they watched.” I thought about that night. He could have left me on that buoy, but he stayed and watched while I tried to breathe air again.
“We both flinched at a whistle. I remember because the sudden sound hurt my ears. And the creature opened their mouth full of pointed teeth and snarled. Then they turned away from me, as quick as a seal, and dove back into the dark water they came from. I haven’t seen anything like them since.”
“Do you look for them?” someone asked. I was too busy staring into my glass to know who it was for sure, but it sounded like Chris.
“No, I mean, who knows if they’re real or if I made them up to explain what happened?” The water can do strange things at night, and it was easier to think I imagined it all.
“Pete found me and hauled my ass on board. I took ill from the experience. When the crew got back to the boat, we picked up the traps and headed to Galveston. We’ve been around San José Island since then, and so have others. No one has seen anything like it. Hell, there aren’t even stories about merfolk in that area.” I should know. I checked in every port we stopped in and asked around.
“So,” Jamie said, “you’re telling us a merfolk rescued you, and that’s why you didn’t retire last season?” She gave me a curious look, obviously dubious of my choice, my story, or both.
“Yep.” I finished my drink and set the glass down. “I thought about it, but I figured if the sea didn’t want me, and the merfolk went to all the trouble of saving me, maybe I should keep doing what I’m good at, you know?”
“Ahhhhh, you salty dog, you’re still looking for them,” Kristy said, her eyes full of mirth.
“Nah,” I replied. “I know better than to ask for lightning to strike twice. Besides, I’m pretty sure I hallucinated all of it. I had a pretty good knock on the head from the gear.”
The crew were shaking their heads. Pete spoke up. “Here’s to the Captain! Too salty for the sea, too in love with it to let it go.”
“Here! Here!” We drank some more. The crew told more stories, racier than the one I told. Eventually, I begged off and left for the dock. The Aire Apparent sat high on its metal composite hull in the harbor after its holding tanks were flushed. The gangway rocked as the wind picked up. Muscle memory took over as I swayed up the zipper-shaped structure to the main deck. I barely made it to my quarters as the first thunder boomed from the storm blowing in.
I watched through a port window as a flash streaked the sky. Another flash followed and lit up the window like a mirror. In it, I saw a figure standing in my cabin doorway. I had to be seeing things from the drink. I rubbed my eyes, sure of it, until I turned and the figure was still there.
They were naked and gasping as if they’d run a kilometer or more. Not a word was uttered as they placed one shaky foot into my cabin. I moved forward to meet them, prepared for a fight if necessary. Much to my surprise, they fell into my arms.
Their dark red hair, draped over their shoulders, glistened in the hallway light. The handsome individual shivered in my arms, clearly cold, and possibly fighting off shock. I set them on my bunk and fought my brain fog to take the steps necessary to help them. I closed my cabin door, stripped out of my clothing down to my underwear, grabbed blankets from my storage chest, and wrapped us up together in my bunk. We didn’t speak as the other pressed into me and eventually stopped shivering, then fell deep asleep.
Talking about the merfolk and too much drink had me thinking it was a dream until I woke up the next morning with a headache, a hard-on, and a very naked person sleeping in my arms.
Two Legs
Troller
The warmth I was wrapped in suddenly disappeared, as if something had lifted me out of the ocean and left me to dry. I shivered and grasped blindly for the large cloth and the human that had been with me. It was too bright to open my eyes and the smallest movement incited pain. Cramps shot up from my fin. No, not fin, feet. Legs. After so long searching, I couldn’t believe I found the boat and the human I rescued.
Born of desperation, I left everything I knew in search of the human I had saved and his ship. When I found the boat again, I was elated. So many shifts of the current and turns of the moon had passed, searching harbors and ports for the boat under the cover of night. I found a spot near the dock where the boat was moored, and watched it for any signs of the one I rescued. By the laws of the sea, he owed me his life. If he was still associated with the vessel he had fallen from, I would board it and ask for my favor. All I needed was a place to shelter so I could plan, then return to my pod.
Late into the night, I saw the human. He was much larger than I realized. He thundered up the planks and onto the vessel, grunting as he went.
The sight of him warmed my insides, though thoughts of asking for the favor he owed me fled. His facial hair and well-muscled arms were the same as I remembered. He reminded me of the protectors of our pods. Or a very cranky slickfur, making honking barks from shore before they dove into the water. Perhaps he was injured. It was hard to tell with humans. He hadn’t yelled when he fell. If I could help him again, another favor would be owed.
Determined and emboldened by the possibility, I launched myself out of the water and grabbed onto a rope that hung from the side of the boat. As I pulled myself up and onto the deck, a wild wind kicked up and the storm that had held off for most of the night started in earnest.
Once I was on the boat, I began my change. I braced for the excruciating pain, expecting the same abrasive sensations as I felt on the beach after the first time. However, the surface under my hands had a worn texture that offered better purchase and was more gentle than sand to my newly formed skin. I watched as the eddies of water on the deck picked up the evidence of my other self. It carried the remnants of my luminescent scales and powerful fins over the side of the boat.
Without my protective skin, I shivered. I had not anticipated the thermal difference of the chilly rain on my new surface dweller skin. Seeking cover, I crawled toward what looked like an opening. My newly formed legs protested as I levered myself up and opened the barrier that kept me from finding shelter. The surface dweller tendency to block paths, even on their vessels, had always seemed odd to me, and now it served as an annoyance keeping me from my goal. Everything blurred and my eyes burned while my vision adjusted. I stumbled down a narrow passage until I heard breathing. I followed the sound until it brought me to a living space where the large beautiful human stood gazing out the window at the storm.
The lightning put his form in relief, outlining his head of black hair, shoulders, and arms. When he turned to find me braced against the wall, I had hoped to demand my favor. Instead, my throat seized for lack of moisture. A gasping noise came from my mouth and a moment later, I was in his arms. He touched my hair, like I’d touched his so long ago. Another wave of relief washed through me at his gentleness.
He picked me up as if I was a trout and put me on the sleeping platform. He wrapped us in cloth and wrapped his arms around me. My chill subsided, and I slept, exhausted.
The light and my muscles cramping from shifting brought me to the present. I pulled the cloth over my head and wondered why I was alone on the sleeping platform. I had my answer when the cloth was gently pulled back. I scrambled to pull it back over my head.
I heard a noise, and the light disappeared. A deep voice asked, “Better?”
I moved the cloth and looked at him. I didn’t know the word, only that it was a query and answered with a nod, hoping it was the correct response. He nodded in return.
“Here, I brought you something for your stomach.”
I sat up and let the cloth pool around my hips. He sat next to me and handed me a warm cup of liquid. The smell reminded me of seagulls. I took a sip and warmth shot through me, reminding me how hungry I was. I tipped the cup back gulped the hot liquid. Once I’d emptied it, I held it out to him.
The smile on his face made my heart beat faster. His kind, light brown eyes were exactly as I remembered them. His facial hair exaggerated his smile, and I risked a smile in return. He took the cup from my hand.
“Would you like more?” he asked as he pointed to the cup.
I nodded hoping he would bring me more seagull liquid. But when he stood, panic went through me as I realized he meant to leave again. I reached for his arm to stop him.
“Shit, you’re strong.”
I stared at him and pleaded with my brain to form a word, a sound that would make sense. “No.”
“If you want more,” he tapped the cup, “I have to go to the galley to get it.” He pointed toward the door.
My throat was dry, but I hummed and clicked, pointing to the cup, unable to use his words.
“You want more?” He tapped the cup and mimicked drinking from it as I had done earlier. Maybe he meant to have some himself. I tried to take the cup from him and explain that he needed his own. He made a funny barking noise when I tried to communicate. My tones and clicks were lost on him.
“You sound like a dolphin, but your voice is deeper. Is that what you are?”
It was another query. I was growing tired of them. I reached for the cup and this time he let me have it. He pointed at it, then his mouth, without saying more words I didn’t understand. This time I nodded, and he left without the cup.
I knew there was a separate space for food. I’ve seen enough ships and shipwrecks to know that. He only had cloth covering his hips and legs, and he wore coverings on his feet. They squeaked as he walked. I had no coverings except the cloth I had slept in. The soft keening noise I made matched my sorrow expressing how unprepared I was for this journey.
The Redhead
Royce
I stood in the galley, dumbfounded. We lived in a world full of magical beings, but there were some things people thought were long extinct. Unicorns for one, and merfolk being another. No one had seen one in ages, and here I had one in my bunk. Or a dolphin shifter, but if that was the case, they might have known English or some other land based language. The redhead clearly didn’t.
Maybe it was a coincidence that his hair was the same color red as the individual that rescued me. Maybe I imagined the scales and fins. But where would he have come from? No one else was out there besides Pete and me.
“You’re going to drive yourself into an aneurysm thinking like this,” I muttered to myself as I heated more broth. I filled another cup and went back to my room.
He was still sitting up, which was a good sign. His hair was matted, and I noticed a couple of cuts on both sides of his neck and torso near his ribs, but they looked scabbed over. I handed over the cup, exchanging it for the empty one. He nodded and raised the cup in what seemed to be a gesture of gratitude.
“You’re welcome.” I walked three paces back to my desk, sat at my desk chair, and watched as he drank his second helping a little slower this time.
