Yuu froze, hand covered in red dust—right next to a white tablecloth, hand holding a white handkerchief, and surrounded by white decorations. She tried in vain to scrub it away with Azul’s kerchief. Opening her mouth to ask him if he knew how to get red stains out as well, she found him already gone, mingling easily with the other guests. He was standing in a circle not too far off from the ballroom pool, where several guests and diners had already congregated. She watched his cool, collected smile as he presented some sort of anecdote to a slender woman with green hair, and a boisterous man whose arm was still a monstrous crab claw. They laughed at whatever he was saying, trying to keep him in their own circle before he moved on to someone else.

  “Silly thing,” she muttered, watching him go. “He was so worried he’d be hated…”

  Clearly, though, nearly everyone wanted to know the two strangers who had been posted as the bride’s very small party, and Azul was using that fact to his maximum advantage.

  As Yuu watched his movements, she was careless about the cloth of red powder still on her lap, and an errant breeze sent some of it puffing into her face. She coughed hard.

  “This stuff gets everywhere!” she growled, tying it up properly, and stuffing it into her purse. “Was Mal trying to ruin her dress!?”

  Grateful to be wearing black, Yuu wrapped her hand in Azul’s handkerchief, and, unsure of how much of the stuff had blown into her face, went to find her date, the only person here who could help her with it.

  She stepped away from the bridal table, and made her way to the lower guest seating, weaving between guests. A blue and white-haired woman, flirting with a human shopkeep. A human shopkeep flirting with a red-haired mermaid who peered up at him from the side of the pool. Several people with the same tiger-striped markings on their cheeks as the groom milled across her path, all clad in finely tailored dresses and suits.

  Azul had been at the far end of the pool earlier, but now, with the shifting of the crowd, Yuu found herself struggling to spot one head of white hair in a sea of color.

  As she walked, she began to notice something odd—she wasn’t the only one who had been stained by red. In fact, several guests had little red marks on wrists, inner arms, or even faces. As she made her way to the far ballroom floor, there were even guests who had streaks of the stuff, looking around as though hunting for something. For some reason, Yuu did not want to be seen by them, and hurried her steps.

  There, at the long end of the pool, she saw the source of the red dust. Waiters had stationed little pots of the stuff for guests to dip their fingers into. She was close enough to smell the stuff, its scent unfamiliar—earthy, with a sharp tang of crushed kelp and something metallic.

  Was this some mermaid tradition?

  She promised herself that she would ask Azul when she found him, and got the stuff off of herself.

  At last, she spotted him, speaking in hushed tones with a tall, angular man, whom Yuu recognized immediately as Floyd and Jade’s father. He stood to the corner, avoiding anyone marked in red, and Jade’s father was one of the few who wasn’t.

  “Azul!” she called, making her way to him. “And Mr. Leech,” she greeted with a friendly smile.

  “Yuu,” Mr. Leech’s answering grin was mercurial, slippery, and as usual, entirely unreadable. The man put even Azul to shame. “How nice to see you here…looking for someone?”

  There was a meaning that she couldn’t quite decipher in his tone, so she answered honestly.

  “Just Azul,” she said brightly. “Mal spilled…something on me. I bet it’s all over my face. I was just hoping you knew how to get it off? How bad is it?”

  Her question was addressed to Azul, but it was Mr. Leech who laughed.

  “Now, that does sound like young Mallory. Your friend has, shall we say, made quite a splash in business down below.”

  Yuu’s eyebrows shot up. “Already? I guess Mal never was one to waste time.”

  “Certainly not,” Mr. Leech agreed. “Well, it seems I need to leave you two to your plight. Best of luck to you, Yuu.”

  “Have a lovely evening, Mr. Leech,” Yuu said in parting, before rounding on Azul. “What on earth was that about? Actually, don’t tell me yet. Do I look like a tomato? Mal put this dust on me, and a breeze took it up to my face. I bet I look like a berry sneezed on me.”

  Azul tutted. “Such a visual.”

  And then, he actually looked at her.

  “Oh my,” he said, examining her face.

  “I’ve probably ruined your handkerchief trying to get it off,” Yuu said apologetically.

  “Keep it,” Azul said, hardly keeping the disgust from his tone. “Why in the trenches did you touch the stuff in the first place? You don’t actually believe what they’ve been saying about this dust?”

  “What have they been saying?” Yuu asked, frustrated. “And, please, Azul, do you know how to get it off or not?”

  Azul scowled, glancing around them, and eventually snatched a cloth napkin off of a table. He poured someone’s nearly empty champagne glass on it, and began dabbing at her face.

  “Is it working?” Yuu asked quickly.

  “Alcohol is supposed to remove it. Or make it worse… I don’t remember.”

  “Wow. So helpful,” she grumbled under his fingertips, but let him work on her face all the same.

  “That… that is the best I can do.” he said at last. “No one will notice, at least.”

  She sighed in relief, touching his hand. “Thanks. Really. You are a fantastic date. So… did you make any friends? Find anyone who needs a garbage patch removed?”

  “Yes, actually,” Azul smoothed down the front of his shirt, looking pleased. “I’ve managed to find—find…”

  “Find?” Yuu prompted, cocking her head.

  Azul’s eyes had suddenly lost focus, and he was blinking rapidly, looking from her, down to her hand which had just brushed his. It wasn’t until she followed his gaze that Yuu realized the hand she’d touched was the one wrapped in his handkerchief, which had long fallen away. Her hand, still stained with red, had marked his skin as well.

  “Azul? Hey, Azul, are you… are you okay?”

  Azul was staring at his hands, clenching and unclenching them like he’d never seen them before—like they weren’t his own.

  His eyes traveled up to the room, visibly dialating as he searched the guests, the bride, the groom, his relatives, before finally landing on her. His dilated again, this time the other way, and they didn’t look like his, anymore. The color was the same, to be sure, but his pupils had elongated, like they were pulling apart.

  “Oh my…” he said in the same level timbre as before, but his throat was dryer, and he still hadn’t lowered his hand from hers.

  He reached for her, fingertips just brushing her wrist where the powder had spilled, and though it had done nothing before, where his skin made contact with hers and the dust, it reacted. The dust flared with a sensation she’d only ever experienced secondhand—from the backlash of magical duels when she’d gotten too close, from the contact of healing saves and potions. It was a magical residue of some kind, but she was unfamiliar with this flavor of it. This stuff wasn’t hurting her, but all the same, it burned.

  “I’m going to talk to Mal,” she said quickly. “I’ll find out—”

  “I know what it is,” Azul said, in that same tone, without a trace of his usual sarcasm.

  “You do?”

  She gasped, unbidden, when his fingers slipped higher over her wrist, wrapping around her hand as he leaned closer. His skin was cool, soothing the burning, and at the same time, making it worse. She made to move away from him, but a row of chairs blocked her from behind, and with Azul in front, she was boxed in. He, usually so gentlemanly, wasn’t moving. Instead, he stared at her as though he hardly recognized her, intently, and searching, and as though there were several choice things he’d like to say.

  “Just—just tell me, then. Is it hurting you? Does it make you… drunk, or something?” She cast a furtive glance at the pool. “You sound like you need water.”

  “You really didn’t know,” he muttered.

  Then, he tore his gaze from her, slowly, and deliberately, as though it hurt him to do so.

  Now, she was truly frustrated.

  “Didn’t know what, Azul?”

  But he never had the chance to answer, because at that moment, they were interrupted by a new voice.

  “Indeed, Azul. Know what?”

  The woman who approached their table had a deep and warm voice—it was the kind of voice that should be on husky midnight specials, belonging to rich five-time widows, or fortune tellers with a mysterious past.

  Azul’s snapped up quickly, as though by force of habit, and he drew himself back to his full height as he addressed the woman.

  “Mother,” he greeted. “I didn’t think you would attend after…” he trailed off at her sharp look.

  Mother? Yuu straightened her own spine as well.

  Madam Ashengrotto’s dress was the blue of deep waters, skirts swirling about her ankles as though she was used to taking up far more space than she was. Her jewelry was tasteful, and practically dripped each syllable of the word ‘expensive.’ Now that she knew the relation, it was easy for Yuu to see that this was Azul’s mother. They shared the same pale, violet skin, white hair, and dissecting gaze. She was a slightly heavier-set woman, commanding every inch of herself with pristine elegance.

  “Azul, my baby! I am always in a position to show my support to my family,” she emphasized the last word, managing to sound at the same time both poignant and condescending. Her gaze drifted, ever so briefly, over Yuu, but in that brief glance, Yuu had the feeling the woman had seen more than she should. “And I see you’ve come following my instructions—albeit barely.”

  Yuu bristled. She was never one to be anything less than human, but it sounded an awful lot like, to this woman, that was a very bad thing.

  “Allow me to introduce Yuu, of Ramshackle house,” Azul presented evenly, if a little stiffly. “She is the personal guest of the bride, and her familial representative.”

  “It’s an honor to meet the mother of my friend, Madam Ashengrotto,” Yuu voiced, cursing herself for her own stiffness. “I would shake your hand, but Mal’s gotten some of her makeup on my wrist, and I’d stain your dress.”

  Yuu held up one hand apologetically, hoping the red powder would excuse some of the courtesy here, but instead, Madam Ashengrotto hissed at the sight of it—not the hiss of an elderly lady. It was an actual, guttural, animal hiss that would have put the evilest swan to shame.

  Yuu cringed at the sound, and expected Azul to as well, but his usual diplomatic suavete had evaporated with his voice. In one neat sidestep, Azul placed himself between herself and his mother, teeth bared, answering with a hiss of his own.

  It was a sound she’d never heard from him.

  Evidently, neither had his mother, who immediately adopted the sort of shocked expression usually worn by fileted fish that ended their lives stuffed with lemon. That expression, however, was gone in an instant.

  “I see,” she said, anger gone. If anything, it had been replaced with cold concern. “I see. You need water. Now. And you—” she addressed Yuu, “—if you are indeed his friend, then you will perform your duties to the bride as needed—staying as far away from my son the rest of the evening…perhaps longer.”

  And then, Madame Ashengrotto simply turned and left them, without a backward glance to her son, or herself.

  “You snarled at your mum!” Yuu scolded, the moment Azul’s glamorous mother had disappeared back into the seething mass of guests. “What the hell is this stuff?”

  Once more, Azul refused to look at her. He seemed to be composing himself, and doing badly. Without the distraction of his mother, he’d gone back to glaring at the guests.

  “Right, right,” Yuu shook her head, feeling like a Grade-A Jerk. “You need water. Now. Come on.”

  She took his hand, pulling him without looking at him toward the pool—the only source of water in the room, noticing on the way that she wasn’t the only one, now, with red-stained skin. As they walked past the throng of chatting guests, tables, and at last, the few dancers who had chosen to keep their feet on the dry ground around the pool, she noticed several of the louder guests—the boastful kind—and the flirtatious guests—the drunken kind—tapping their fingers into tiny bowls of the red at the base of the bridal table. Little red dust fingerprints were spreading among the guests, some of which were pulling each other away from the main rabble.

  Transformed mermaids, and regular ones in the pool alike, flirted heavily with men who wore the red dust, tugging them away into secluded corners. Yuu grimaced.

  What was this stuff?

  As she dragged Azul toward the pool, she noticed Mal across the way, returned to her perch at the bridal table, now contently curled into her husband’s side, and pretending not to watch her.

  Yuu didn’t have time to worry about that, however. Before Azul could argue; before he could start complaining about his dry-clean-onlies, and before he could begin haranguing her about returning to whatever duties Mal might have in store for her, they reached the pool, and she pushed him in.

  Azul landed with a shocked splash next to several pairs of dancers—some human, and some merfolk, all treading water gracefully to the music. Azul’s head went under as easily as if he’d walked from one room to the next, staring up at her with his first breath of the cool water like he’d breathed his first in ages.

  Intending to march straight up to Mal and demand what new drug she was using on her guests, Yuu was stopped by a firm hand on her shoulder. Whirling stiffly to get a better view, she was greeted by the sight of the groom’s father, his stripey scales slashed over his jaws as he stood before her, half-transformed.

  “Rude not to join your dance partner,” he said, smiling through pointed teeth. “In you go!”

  Before she could argue, or complain about her dry-clean-onlies, Yuu was pushed right in after Azul, landing nearly on top of him in her imbalance.

  To her horror, his clothing had started to dissolve, along with his shoes and feet. Panicking, Yuu wasn’t sure whether this magic pool differentiated between merfolk and humans, and wasn’t about to risk her own dress dissolving. Unfortunately, panic is never the way to handle water. Before she could so much as turn around, her skirt had tangled tightly around her ankles, wet and weighted, and pulling downward.

  Before her head could go under, Azul grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her into himself, stabilizing them both.

  “Calm,” he said in her ear. “If you thrash like that, you really will drown—as if this wedding didn’t already have enough scandal surrounding it. It’d be selfish to take the limelight like that.”

  She grabbed his shoulders through his soggy suit jacket as he turned her around, and posed them like any of the other couples, floating about their watery dancing in the pool. Yuu quickly decided that she liked traditional ballroom floors much better than this.

  “Thank you,” she breathed sincerely. “Can you get me out of here before my skirt disappears, too?”

  Azul was breathing hard over her head.

  “Too? Ah…”

  His voice was less hazy, and his vision less wandering, but his shoes had disappeared into the water, and even as he tried to move them to a more secluded area of the pool, his suit trousers were washing away as well—but so were his human legs.

  “You’re…” Yuu couldn’t stop watching.

  The muscles of his calves and thighs unfurled away into the water, replaced before her eyes like a heat-shimmer with reaching, curling black tentacles, three times his legs’ original length. Eight limbs replaced two, and she could see why he’d avoided the other couples. Azul’s mer-form was easily the largest in the pool. He was flexible. He was flawlessly balanced in the water, but despite having every advantage on her weak swimming, he was huge.

  The hum of the music over the water dance floor waved itself back into her senses as the transformation of his lower half completed, and at the same time, any of the couples around them who noticed what he was began to give them a wider berth. Aware of the eyes on them, and now less afraid of falling under the surface, she finally managed to look back at his face, only to find that it wasn’t just his lower half that had changed.

  “Oh my,” she found herself whispering the same words that he had before.

  A violet hue had crept through his coloring, everywhere but his eyes, which no longer had the pupils of a human. His pupils had flattened out, meeting her gaze unblinkingly. His hair had hardly suffered from the dunking. If anything, in her opinion, it looked better, weighted back along his neck…which was no longer bound in the color of a suit jacket and shirt.

  His upper clothing had dissolved as well, replaced by a sleek, black patterning that spanned from the cuffs of his wrists to his neck, where the only real clothing remained. His dark suit had been replaced with a high collar, letting the skin of his neck plunge almost to his navel. He was a vaudeville villain, in every right, and somehow, managed to make the look come across entirely serious.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Something large and lithe brushed her ankles, and she jumped hard.

  “It’s just me,” he said evenly, as though he was trying to soothe a wounded animal. “I’m untangling your dress so you can move. I…I did warn you, if you recall.”

  “You did,” she said, her voice weaker than she liked.

  One of Azul’s long black tentacles undid the knot she’d gotten herself into, and drifted away with practiced efficiency. She cleared her throat as his tentacle finished its chore, and then retreated once more to Azul holding himself as far from her as he could without dropping her.

  “You did,” she said again, stronger. “And, do you mind not pushing me away? Even when it’s untangled, I’m not sure I can swim well in this.”

  He stared at her a moment, unbelieving.

  “You were right, for the record,” she said tremulously. “I’m getting a swimsuit dress next time. For sure.”

  He barked a surprised laugh.

  “Of course I was right. Do you see anyone else drowning on the dance floor?”

  Yuu had the good grace to blush.

  “I’m not drowning. You’ve got me, right?” She curled her fingers a little more securely over his shoulders, and he didn’t resist when she swam closer—enough to at least look like they were dancing, although Azul still refused to move. He was also looking at her, again, like she was slightly off her rocker, and she couldn’t for the life of her fathom why.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she demanded bluntly, inches from his nose.

  “Like what?” he asked, cool breath fanning over her face. He smelled like the seaside air—not the salty, fishy kind, but the kind you catch in the morning right before the tide changes. He smelled like newly washed-in sand, and ozone, and magic.

  “You’re a little close,” he said, looking profoundly uncomfortable.

  “Oh!” She leaned back quickly, realizing too late for any proper sense of etiquette that she’d closed what was left of the gap between them down to the last inch. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I just, um, I’m not sure what that was. I was going to say, you were looking at me like I was insane, but, after doing that, I guess…I’m pretty sure I’ve lost the high ground…..”

  He said nothing, gaze unwavering.

  “This is a disaster, isn’t it. Are there stairs out of here? Maybe you could just… throw me overboard?” she suggested.

  He snorted, breaking the tension. “I’m fairly sure that’s not how it works, and I don’t think you’ve done anything that warrants abandoning at sea.”

  She blanched. “I didn’t know that was an option.”

  That time, he truly laughed.

  “It isn’t. And, I’m only looking at you the way anyone would look at someone trying to get close to a live cecaelian. Transformed. While in the water.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I’m terrifying.”

  It was her turn to laugh. “You really are. Any minute now, you’re going to try and sell me a wageless shift at the lounge like it’s the next golden grail.”

  He glared.

  “You fold your socks and carry handkerchiefs, Azul. Forgive me if I’m not trembling at the sight of you.”

  “I am not that unfair,” he exclaimed indignantly, discomfort all but forgotten.

  “Are you saying you wouldn’t let people work there for free?”

  “I don’t expect anything for free,” he huffed.

  “Right. And that stunt you pulled with the anemones, that was just plain generous.”

  He growled under his breath, sending the nearest mermaid skittering for the opposite edge. Yuu couldn’t stifle her smirk.

  “Do that again. You might scare a goldfish.”

  “A goldfish?” he groaned, rolling his eyes, “Really, Yuu?”

  “Fine,” she admitted with a shrug that nearly brushed his chest. “She was bigger than a goldfish. By at least two inches.”

  “If anyone overhears you, you’re going to get us thrown out.”

  She winked. “They’d have to get close to you, first.”

  It was true, the circle around them in the pool was getting wider. So much so, that they were beginning to have their own corner to themselves.

  “You look like you’re feeling better,” she said, seriousness returning. “Are you feeling alright, Azul?”

  He nodded stiffly. “I am fine. It was a momentary lapse, that’s all.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. I was…worried,” she said sincerely.

  “Many thanks, but you do know your friend. I don’t believe she would serve anything that would do true harm.”

  “You say that…” Yuu grumbled.

  They spent a moment in silence, drifting in the water. To Yuu’s relief, the red on her hand had washed away somewhat. It was sticky stuff, but at least some good had come of getting pushed in here.

  “So,” she said, after Azul’s attention returned to her, “why are people giving us so much space in here? I mean, you’re massive, Azul, but we don’t really need it.”

  He arched his high, pointed chin over her, at a level above the water she couldn’t hope to reach with her water-weighted dress.

  “Because each and every merman and maid in this pool believes that my kind is capable of eating them at the first sign of vulnerability.”

  She snorted. “You don’t even like sushi.”

  He sighed. “Indeed, but the rumors revolving around my mother claim that she ate my father after his disappearance.”

  Yuu was laughing loudly before she realized that there was no levity in his expression.

  “You’re not joking. Well?” her voice lilted in genuine curiosity. “Did she?”

  He spluttered in indignation. Tentacles agitating the water beneath them.

  “Of course not! He ran off with a human. On land.”

  She ‘hm’ed’ in quiet understanding.

  “Those human relations. It seems like they don’t cause much but trouble for the Atlantican world. Mallory did say that there might be some…trouble from the guests over her being human.”

  “You hardly know the half of it,” he huffed. “However, things are already so mixed, any prejudices are largely hypocritical. As for myself, I wouldn’t mind staying out of the water the rest of my life.”

  Yuu was baffled. She truly couldn’t understand why someone who could do what Azul did would ignore so much of what he was. Or why anyone would want to. The sea was dangerous, and overly political, but…where wasn’t?

  “Why?” she asked bluntly.

  “Truly?” he swung her to the side, suddenly, when a particularly drunken couple—too drunk to care if there was a giant octopus in the water—hustled past them, giggling and bumping into surfaces that were hardly there, as they did.

  “I’d like to know,” Yuu insisted, from the protective ledge beneath his chin. When he responded, he didn’t have to look at her to do so.

  “I would give many things not to be…this,” he gestured down at himself, holding her waist close as though they were dancing, although he was really just keeping her from sinking.

  “Why?” she repeated.

  “Cecaelia are shunned by other merfolk. Reviled. We may be strong, but we are heavy, cumbersome, and slow. In the natural order, our source-species relies on ambush to catch its prey, but they themselves are often caught by humans who can power-walk across a tidepool. We are a strong species, but a vulnerable one in many ways. At least on land, there are more equalizers. More… tools.”

  “I see,” she said, still pressed underneath them. They were closer, to be sure, but it felt safer, somehow, not to have her face read when they spoke. He must have felt the same, because he made not attempt to shift them.

  “So if I power-walk across the lounge, I’ll catch you?”

  “Yuu.”

  “What? You’re certainly not doing badly on land. Your prey still comes to you in a sense, I suppose,” she laughed softly. “I have to say though, it seems a waste not to prize your species more…”

  He snorted softly into her hair. “You would be the first to think so.”

  “Well, I’m not from this world…but as a magicless student in a magic-filled world, I don’t often have to differentiate between danger levels. There simply is, and there isn’t. But you are my friend. And as for species… I can still recognize beauty when I see it. I’d wager not many humans have seen anything like you.”

  Reaching up, she flicked his nose without looking, earning a tiny hiss from him, which promptly died in his throat.

  “The dust,” he said stiffly. “It’s still on your hands.”

  She looked. “Why hasn’t it washed off?”

  “The strings of fate don’t simply wash off,” he said bluntly.

  “This isn’t string. It’s dust. It should have been gone the moment I fell in.”

  “You should know, I suppose…” he said, his voice constricting.

  “Ah, yes.” She maneuvered her head enough to face him again, and it occurred to her once more, how close they were in the water. But he was no longer looking at her. In fact, he seemed to be struggling to look anywhere but. “What is this dust? Why did Mal put out pots of the stuff?”

  “The red string of fate is a sacred object,” Azul grit out, and this close to him, she could see the morphed points of his teeth. Interesting.

  “Red string of fate. That exists?”

  He nodded. “And the Banejaw family has discovered not only how to source it, but has apparently decided to refine it into dust for those who want to search for—ah…how to put this. The string of fate pulls us to enemies fated to cross our paths. Friends. Partners. They have not, as I take it, actually tested it as widely as it should have been for side-effects.”

  “Right,” Yuu said flatly. “No Food and Drug Administration in the ocean.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Suddenly, I can see why Mallory is marrying him,” she said. “She puts the find-your-worst-enemy dust in the wedding party and sits back to watch the show. I love her, but… well, that’s exactly the sort of thing she’d do.”

  “Your friend may have put another agent in the dust. I cannot tell. I can only tell that it influences instinct.”

  “Instinct?”

  “Look around us,” Azul instructed.

  The lagoon around them was a bit raucous, but nothing Yuu hadn’t seen at any party with alcohol. Groups of mermaids frolicked beneath the waters, pulling tails, and snatching human guests’ shoes if they’d been foolish enough to wear them in. There were plenty, however, as she’d seen before, who had pulled off into quiet corners. Some conversed. Some borderline shouted at each other. Others…. Yuu quickly looked away.

  “Mated pairs like Varun and Mallory happen so quickly because for mermen, bonds don’t form over time. They simply are. Relationships come into being and begin making demands. It’s because of this that many simply don’t understand the idea of a human ‘courting period,’ or even ‘long-term notice—’ although in my opinion, taking time to ‘read the contract,’ so to speak, is a point in human traditions’ favor.”

  “So the fact that so many pairs are around us means…”

  “Several of these ‘pairings’ came into existence tonight. It’s likely that they will owe the bride and groom favors for making the introduction so easy. Being from the Banejaw family, I doubt Varun will waste much time in collecting those favors. It’s a pattern of efficiency.”

  “To force pairs?”

  “To help them recognize potential relations faster. Weddings like this are actually quite rare in the oceans. Fortunately, that’s not at all how things work for my species, or I likely would have been tied to the depths somehow by my mother’s machinations years ago.”

  “I thought you said this helped you find enemies.”

  “More than enemies,” he said, a wealth of insinuation in his tone.

  “I’m sure your employees are greatly relieved,” she deadpanned.

  “I would appreciate, however, if you kept anything dusted of yours away from me once we’re out of the water. It’s already difficult to—” with that, Azul quickly closed his mouth.

  “Am I heavy?” She asked quickly, misunderstanding. “I’m soaked, so, probably. And you’ve already kept us up for the whole song. More than one song? It’s hard to tell with this selection.”

  “Mm,” he hummed noncommittally. “As I said, I’m fine, but you… shouldn’t you be checking on the bride?”

  She shook her head, groaning inwardly. Mal had probably loved watching this exchange, but that didn’t mean she didn’t still want answers.

  “You’re not wrong. Could you help me find the stairs…? How long is this wedding supposed to go?” she asked tiredly.

  “Too long,” he practically hissed, but just then, as if summoned, the waiters surrounding the bridal table, and at each of the food stations ceased their service, and produced bells from suit pockets, filling the air with a tolling, ringing.

  “Hear ye, hear ye! The sun has set!” the head butler announced, as everyone, the music, and the bell-ringers fell silent.

  “Are those… dolphins?” Yuu whispered, still tucked beneath Azul’s chin.

  There was something comforting about the light fading over the lagoon. Azul seemed less self-conscious about the people surrounding them as his dark tentacles faded into the blackness of the water. She found herself pulling back underneath his chin as a a large magical wave arced from the surrounding sea and connected with the lagoon. The dorsal fins of what she very much hoped were dolphins rode the wave up to the base of the pool in front of the wedding table, and Mallory and Varun, without so much as bidding their guests goodbye, were already clambering on.

  “I don’t believe those are dolphins,” Azul said quietly, his voice rumbling through her skull.

  “So dramatic,” Yuu mumbled into his neck, still clinging to his shoulders, as the wave, which had hardly made contact with the lagoon, reversed its current, sweeping Mallory, Varun, and the two not-dolphins with it.

  “They didn’t even take luggage,” she said aloud.

  “I’m sure they’ll be met with an entourage down below.”

  “And she can breathe?”

  She felt Azul’s soft laughter, and he reshifted his arms around her for ease of carrying.

  “If she hasn’t learned to breathe underwater in last year she’s been living in Atlantica, then there’s no helping her now.”

  “Was your collar always this high?” Yuu said, tracing the line of the collar, the lone piece of clothing the pool had seen fit to let him keep. The back of it went all the way to the top of his neck, and the front tapered down so sharply at the front of his neck that all that was visible of his violet-tinged skin was a few inches of taught tendon in the middle.

  “The magic loves its drama,” Azul said simply.

  “Hm.”

  “Yuu, would you like to get out?” Azul said stiffly.

  Yuu pulled her fingers back from his collar like she’d been stung.

  What are you thinking, Yuu? Pull yourself together! she scolded herself. What was she doing? Azul didn’t need this. He was there as her friend, and he’d been downright helpful until she’d put the enemy dust on his skin. Now, she was fingering his collar, and holding herself against him in the water like a drowning victim. If she had any shame, she should be mortified.

  Trying to summon up the correct amount of embarrassment—that didn’t seem willing to come, at present—she nodded, leaning away as surreptitiously as she could manage.

  Then, she gasped, as Azul arced them both out of the water, setting her on the ground, standing—and HE was standing, right next to her.

  “You can walk on those?” she heard herself say before she could stop her mouth.

  “I am one of the few species who can walk on land, Azul said, standing a little taller than his human legs usually let him.

  “Amazing. That’s… that’s really incredible,” she blurted.

  He stared, silently before responding. “That’s going to take getting used to… Didn’t you come with a purse?”

  “It’s by my seat. This way.” She walked back to the table, him wading on his many feet beside her. It was far easier this time to cut through the crowd. Again, no one seemed to want to get near the giant octopus.

  “That is so convenient,” she muttered once they’d collected her things.

  “Call it what you want,” Azul said blandly.

  “The rest are changing back,” she looked around at the rest of the partygoers stepping out of the pool. And they’re dry? “Why not you?”

  “Because the rest brought changing potions, intending to dance in enchanted water. I hadn’t exactly planned to get in.”

  “Oh!” she realized. “Oh, that was… that was absolutely my fault. Sorry for that.”

  He merely shrugged. “It was better than the alternative.”

  What the alternative was, she didn’t ask. This, at least, was enough to bring up the requisite social embarrassment.

  “I really am sorry. I didn’t know what ti was, I promise. I still don’t really, if I’m being honest.”

  “It’s no matter,” he said stiffly. “At this rate, the mirror will be swamped with outgoing guests for some time.”

  He wasn’t wrong. Already, the throngs were heading for the mirror portal. If their entry had been accompanied by other guests incoming an hour early, then—

  “It’s probably going to be an hour before we can leave. At least there are still places to wait. Are you going to dry out?”

  “I’ll be fine for several hours out of water; however—”

  “We’ll sit by the pool,” she decided for them. “I don’t want to have to tell Jade and Floyd the reason they have to run the lounge themselves for the rest of their time at the academy is because I let you turn into an octopus raisin.”

  “Fair enough,” Azul murmured, for once, not arguing.

  He was no longer looking at her, either, and she could only assume that the dust, the wedding, and the transformation had all taken a toll on him.

  She offered a hand to help him back down from the upper table setting, though he hardly needed it. The man had a longer reach than she did, and she ended up relying on him on the dark steps. Together, they sat peaceably on the side of the darkening pool. He, sinking most of himself into the water immediately. She was already wet, and the breeze was starting to push a chill over the lagoon.

  “What are you doing?” Azul asked suddenly, ans she gripped the sides of her skirt.

  “The guests are mostly gone,” she reported matter-of-factly. “And I’m a better swimmer when I’m not in heels and my clothing isn’t trying to drown me.”

  As she talked, she pulled the fabric apart, ripping it up to her thighs, and knotting the skirt so that she could actually move. Azul watched in morbid fascination as she hopped into the water, laughing and pushing herself deeper in.

  “You’re the fish!” she laughed. “Are you coming? I think we have time.”

  “It’s dark,” he pointed out unhelpfully. “You’re going to drown.”

  “The stars are coming out. You’re here. I’m not going to drown.”

  “I charge for life-guarding services,” he shot back, as though he couldn’t stop himself. “I—that is to say—”

  She laughed hard, feeling carefree for the first time that night.

  “And yet,” she said, swimming up to the curve of where his knees would have been. “And yet, I don’t think even you would charge for services rendered on a date. Come on, Azul. No more giggling mermaids. No more skittish goldfish. When was the last time you had an hour to just…be?”

  He sighed, letting her pull him into the water, and despite his size, made far less of a splash than she had.

  “I’m not a fish, Yuu,” he grumbled warily.

  “I know. You’re a workaholic octopus who really needs a break,” she said, tugging him farther out into the water.

  “You are a terrible swimmer,” he grumbled as soon as she was out there. “I’m a bad swimmer, and you—”

  “You are NOT a bad swimmer,” she argued hotly. “You grew up in the water. It’s literally your air.”

  “Air is my air, Yuu,” he said, and though he didn’t swim any closer, he was close enough that one of his tentacles wrapped around her middle, and hoisted her a little higher in the water. “And you’re making me nervous.”

  “I didn’t think anything could make you nervous,” she said.

  “I was quite nervous in coming here tonight, if you recall.”

  “So nervous that you managed to talk to half the wedding guests, and strike deals with at least a few of them?”

  “It helped…” he admitted at last, floating next to her in the warm water, and still holding her aloft. “It helped that you put me on the high table. There was certainly no end of curiosity…”

  “You were family to the groom and friend to the bride,” Yuu pointed out.

  “Both positions are tenuous.”

  Yuu huffed a half-laugh, unable to believe her ears.

  “Family is never tenuous. That’s what makes it family. Like them or not. Hate them or not. They are yours.”

  Azul seemed taken aback.

  “Does that matter?”

  “Yes,” she said, just as hotly, moving closer to him in the water. “Yes, it does. Because even if you never see them, even if they are apart from you, none of us is completely disconnected.”

  “What was your family like?” he asked suddenly.

  “I don’t remember them perfectly. The mirror between our worlds fuzzes some of those memories…” she said with a shrug, “but what I do remember, I live with every day. As I’m sure you do. Your mother seemed… protective.”

  “That’s certainly one word for it,” Azul said through gritted teeth.

  “You don’t have to tell me about it,” Yuu said quickly, sensing his discomfort. “But, thanks for keeping me from getting cursed earlier.”

  “It would be poor form to let my date get cursed,” he said, a little more gently.

  “I suppose I owe you for that.”

  “I’ve heard that it’s rude to charge for services rendered on a date.”

  She laughed, dispelling any leftover tension between them. She reached through the water for his shoulders again, although he seemed reluctant to let her out of his longer limbed grip.

  “I’m not going to drown, Azul. Believe it or not, this is just how humans swim.”

  “I’ve still seen better,” Azul huffed.

  She reached up and tapped his cheek petulantly.

  “I’m flattered.”

  “Yuu,” Azul hissed suddenly. “Yuu, did you… touch anything with dust?”

  Yuu’s thoughts flew to her purse, which still contained Mallory’s ‘gift.’

  “I’m…not sure,” she said, wary of the heavy grit to his tone. “Why, we’re in water aren’t we? Aren’t you…”

  Azul took a deep breath, put his hands on her waist, and pushed her back from himself, as though it cost him a great effort to do so.

  “I’ll swim away, if you’d rather—” she started.

  “Don’t,” he hissed again. “Don’t, just… just give me a moment.”

  Yuu recalled what he’d said. Red Dust acted one way on merfolk, but on cecaelia? What did it do?

  “You said it made you act on instinct?” she said quietly, leaning in to see his face. Her voice trembled as she asked: “So it makes you want to…what? Fight me? Eat me?”

  “Something—” he breathed hard, letting his forehead fall onto hers. His white hair tangled with her damp, brown ones, and she got an up close view of his eyes, slitted and dilated, roving her face and searching. Breathing her in. “—Something like that.”

  The dusted place on his cheek brushed hers, and her breath stuttered. The sensation was different than before. Heady, warm, and pulling her forward. Right into him.