The Island Curse

It's Not Too Late

I didn't speak again until we reached the outskirts of town. Kieran's revelation left me reeling. I'd been so certain his silence the other day equaled admission, but I was wrong. For me, it was a relief, but as I sneaked glances at the boy walking at my side, I understood what the silence really meant. 

Kieran felt guilty.

He hadn't compromised, and now, he walked free while his friends were chained to a vile creature. But... I thought about what he'd said to me. The way he'd described my tail, and the longing he'd stirred inside of me... it was longing he felt too. There had to be some part of him that wondered if he'd made the right choice. If his soul was really worth giving up the ocean, and for a moment, I understood. Maybe, for a Merrow, the soul and the sea were one and the same.

When the soft earth beneath our feet turned to asphalt, we stopped holding hands. Letting the village know how deep our connection went was risky. They needed to think I was isolated, that my allies were sparse. But it didn't stop me from missing the warmth of his flesh against mine, and within moments, the Island's brisk wind turned my fingers to ice.

"Kieran," I asked, keeping my voice to a whisper as we weaved through the narrow streets, "how do you know your tail is green?"

He cut his eyes toward me but didn't turn his head. "I forget..."

"How much you don't know," I finished for him.

"Sorry. Males are different than females."

"Ya think," I joked wiggling my eyebrows at him. Anything to ease the tension in his hunched shoulders.

It worked. Sort of. His body didn't relax, but his lips did. Just a hint of the Kieran I first met reappeared.

"Males will always have the same colored tails as their sire. Guess it's the part of us that's half animal. A way to mark their offspring. Guarantee paternity. It's how a lot of the wilder Merrow and Finfolk organize themselves into tribes. By tail color."

"Guess they don't care about their daughters?" I was striving for teasing and missed the mark by a mile.

"It's not like that. Having a daughter is a great honor. A woman's tail is about expression. It reveals something about her nature. The more beautiful and unique the tail, the higher station the woman can achieve."

"So what you're saying is mermaids are just as shallow as humans."

The boy beside me rolled his eyes and threw up his arms. "Sure."

"Well, what do you expect?" I demanded. "That sounds terrible."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to make it sound that way. You're asking me to put our society's very intricate and extensive culture into a few words."

"Yours. Not ours."

"Isla," he said, stopping in front of a modest cottage. Inside, I could hear childish squeals and laughter. "You've got to accept that you're part of this world. Like it or not."

"No, because if I get what I want, I'll leave all of this behind."

Hurt swam through his eyes. Jaw tight, he knocked on the door and refused to look at me again. A small part of me wanted to apologize, but the bigger part knew it would be a lie. I wasn't sorry for not wanting this life.

A little girl appeared in the doorway, a bright, gap toothed smile stretching across her freckled, brown face when she spied Kieran. With a whoop, she launched herself across the threshold and into his arms. He spun around twice before squeezing her tight.

"Well hello, Golda," he said, placing her on her feet. "Is Tara home?"

Golda flashed pouty eyes at Kieran before looking at me. They hardened. "What's she doing here?"