Fear the Drowning Deep(56)

Why Liss liked working here was a mystery.

Pressing against the wall, I scanned the faces of the patrons, no easy task in the dim lighting and swirls of bluish smoke. Unlike the deserted market, the tavern was crammed with bodies. It seemed everyone was keen to drown their sorrows lately, even some of the most devout churchgoers who hadn’t, to my knowledge, touched a drop in years.

Near the front windows, a woman buttered bread while her husband smoked. Several older fishermen lounged at a table, gulping steaming bowls of soup and looking as though they had nowhere else to be. Their wives had all left them in one way or another by now.

Younger men sat at the bar, frowning over the rims of their mugs. They didn’t have to point or curse as I passed—the gleam in their eyes said it all: strange girl, witch child, madwoman.

I squared my shoulders and moved deeper into the room, past a man who chomped on a pipe as he made eyes at shapely Ms. Katleen. Seated in the darkest corner at the back of the room, his face half in shadow, was Fynn, staring into a glass of ale, prodding the foam above the dark liquid. He didn’t look up until I dropped into the chair opposite him.

My stomach flipped as his eyes met mine. He offered me a half-smile, and in that moment, every word I had wanted to shout at him vanished. I glanced at the beads of sweat from his tall glass collecting on the table. “Since when do you drink ale?”

Fynn’s lips twitched. “I don’t. But it seems to be the drink of choice, so I thought I’d give it a go. The foam is awful.”

I traced patterns on the table with the moisture from his glass. At least when I looked at them instead of Fynn, talking was easier. “I’m glad you didn’t leave. I’m sorry for everything I said. All of it.”

“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.”