Fear the Drowning Deep(69)

A smile warmed my voice. “Only some.” I took his hand. “This way. I know another place we can try, but then we’ll have to bring whatever we’ve found to Morag. If Mally and Artur’s boat had any trouble, they could still be at sea right now …”

We exchanged a look, and Fynn nodded gravely. Without another word, I guided him toward the woods at the base of my favorite hill, but instead of beginning the climb, we continued straight through a thicket of young oak trees. “There’s a valley just up here,” I explained, ducking under a branch. “I haven’t been this way in ages, but I think we’ll find more herbs than we need there.”

“Bridey,” Fynn murmured as we picked our way through the tangled branches. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you since last night. You won’t like it, especially not after what the serpent did to those people, but I don’t think I have a choice.” He halted, turning to face me. “Your father asked me to go fishing with him tomorrow morning. An overnight trip.”

“What? When did he ask?” I demanded, taking a step closer. A gnarled root caught my foot and I stumbled, reaching for a branch to steady myself.

“Careful.” Fynn snagged me around the waist. “He asked at the wedding feast.”

I gripped his shoulders. “Well, you can’t go. Not when the serpent is so close. We have to keep Da ashore until Morag makes her poison and we’ve slain the beast.”

Fynn shook his head. “We both know there’s nothing we can say to keep your father on land. Fish are still scarce, and he doesn’t—”

“—believe in sea monsters,” I finished, bowing my head. Fynn was right. There was no stopping Da from sailing, no more than I could stop the sun from setting.

“The best I can do is go and try to keep him safe.”

“And who will keep you safe?” A startled thrush took flight as my voice rang through the trees. “The serpent nearly killed you once already!”

Fynn put a finger to my lips. “Maybe your father won’t want to go after what’s happened. But I thought I should warn you.” He touched his forehead to mine. “I’d die before I let anything hurt your father.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I muttered against Fynn’s finger. “Promise you’re coming back to me.”

“I will. If you promise me something in return.” He smiled and looked away, suddenly shy.

“Name it.”

“Teach me how to read.” He met my gaze again. “Once the serpent is dead.”

I peered deep into Fynn’s eyes, searching for a glimmer of teasing, but found none. “All right. I promise to teach you to read, if that’s what you wish.”

“It is. Though while we’re on the subject, there are a lot of things I wish I had …” Fynn bent his head and kissed me, running his tongue along my bottom lip. “Like your heart.”

I longed to say something clever, but with Fynn so close, I could barely stammer, “Well, then, take it.”

It had been only days since our last kiss, and yet, he clutched my arms as though we’d been apart for months. My heart pounded in my ears, a dizzying refrain, as his lips collided with mine again. He tasted of salt and sunlight and the hottest days of summer.

And when I returned the kiss, I tasted something far stronger: the swooping, soaring, intoxicatingly sweet rush of fearlessness. I wanted to stay just like this, our lips touching even as we gasped for breath, until I’d memorized his taste. Maybe then, I could carry that soaring feeling, and him, with me forever.

But the serpent couldn’t wait. We’d already wasted so much time standing there. “We need to take the herbs to Morag’s before the new curfew,” I murmured.

Yet as I untangled my hands from behind Fynn’s neck, something he’d said not long before drifted back to me: Nothing from the ocean is meant to survive on land forever.


“Remember,” I whispered as Fynn and I stood in the gloomy hallway early the next morning, listening to Da prepare to go to sea. “Be sure you aren’t the third boat out of the harbor. It’s bad luck, and that’s the last thing any of us needs.”

I laced my slender fingers between his larger ones. My eyes remained dry, but my pulse quickened every time I glanced at the two pairs of boots and weatherproofed cloaks Mam had set by the door. Until Morag’s poison was finished at sundown—she swore it took a full day to brew—there was nothing I could do to protect Fynn or Da, or anyone else.

I hated this restless feeling, waiting on others before I could act, worse than the idea of fighting another fossegrim.

Fynn lifted our joined hands and kissed the backs of mine, jolting me back to the present. “It’s only for a day and a night. I’ll be fine. It’s not as if the serpent attacks every boat. Your town would be missing a lot more fishermen.”

I shuddered. It was far from a comforting thought. Clutching the front of Fynn’s shirt, I whispered, “But if you do see the monster, go for its good eye.”

“And you,” he whispered back, his eyes as solemn as a funeral-goer’s, “promise me you won’t try to poison the serpent without my help.”

I opened my mouth to say yes, but the word stuck in my throat.

“Are you ready, lad?” Da’s gruff whisper cut through the dark house, sparing me from making a promise I couldn’t keep.