Cresting the water, a green-haired mermaid waved at him, green webbing stretched between her delicate fingers, green scales sparkling down her shoulders and back.

“Sela?” Twain asked.

“It is you! I thought so. Come on, let’s go get Felix!”

Twain blinked. “Uh, you… you don’t think I’m evil, or anything?”

Sela shrugged. “I was there, Mouse. Sabelyn can say whatever she wants, but I’m pretty sure Lilith is the only one who believed her. And she was probably in on it.”

“Oh.” Guess I shouldn’t have listened to anything Lilith had to say. Not about the princesses, anyways.

“Plenty of people believed her, though. The Queen, for example, but… she needs a scapegoat for the blight more than she cares about the fate of one moon elf. It’s been a hard six months. There’s so much blight washing into our waters. It’s completely polluted our border cities and the deeper towns.”

“Wait. Six months?” Twain asked. Damn, I need to stop passing out.

Sela nodded. “Where have you been?”

“Asleep,” Twain grumbled.

“Asleep?” Sela frowned.

“I was tired,” he deadpanned.

Sela shook her head. Something splashed behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, then looked back up at him. “Come down to the water. I don’t have long, but I have the night. I can get you across the bay.”

Twain climbed off the horse. With a slap on its rump, he sent it running. The sheer cliff face awaited him. He slung his legs over the edge and stared down at the crashing water a dozen feet below. Should I jump, or try to climb down?

The water churned, foaming white where it met the rocky cliff. Debris swirled, caught in an unending whirlpool. As he watched, a log smashed against the cliff and broke in half, sending white splinters flying.

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Oh, shit. If I get caught in that… In his mind’s eye, he replaced the log. His head smashed against the cliff, and blood stained the water.

To distract himself, Twain cleared his throat. “Er, find a new man yet?”

Sela let out a lovelorn sigh and gazed at him. “He’s right here.”

Twain stiffened and met her eyes.

Laughing, Sela fell back in the water. “You’re too easy to tease, Mouse. No wonder Brittany enjoys it so much. Now hurry, come on down! If you wait too long, they’ll notice we’re missing.”

Twain sucked in a breath. Here goes. He shoved off the cliff and hurtled toward the froth below.

Sela lunged up from the water in a burst of green scales, tail propelling her upward. To his relief, a scrappy seaweed top wrapped around her torso. Clammy arms caught him, and they splashed back down into the water together. Frigid water soaked into his clothes and left him instantly soaked through and freezing cold.

Sela struggled to hold him upright. “Ugh, can you tread water for a minute?”

“I can’t swim,” Twain admitted. He kept a casual expression, but the arm wrapped around her shoulder held on tight, white-knuckled.

“Ground-based races, honestly,” Sela muttered.

Another pair of arms supported him, then another. A half-dozen mermaids crowded close, holding him in the water.

“Girls!” Sela cried, grateful tears welling up in her eyes.

“He’s the one who helped you, isn’t he?”

“Of course we’d help. Anything for love.”

Sela sniffed. “Thank you.”

Twain cast a look at Sela, then leaned in. “Since when did you know?”

She glanced at him and smiled. “Oh, way back. Felix wasn’t my type, and you seemed to be enjoying yourself, so I never bothered you about it. Every race has their own culture, after all.”

Twain nodded, then froze. Wait, does she think crossdressing is a part of our culture? He opened his mouth to correct her, then snapped it shut. No, you know what? That’s probably the least embarrassing excuse.

In the end, all he said was, “Thanks.”

Sela grinned at him. “Anything for a friend.”

No sleep awaited him, not with the cold water and the ever-present threat of the deeps below, but with the mermaids’ help, he crossed the bay before the sun rose over the horizon. On the far side, Twain stepped onto dry ground and turned back. “Sela, I—”

She kicked herself up and put a finger to his lips. “It’s alright. I understand.”

A low note from a horn echoed over the water.

“The Queen.” “The Queen calls us,” the mermaids whispered.

Sela turned. “It’s time to go.”

“If—if there’s anything I can do to repay you,” Twain called, as Sela left.

She grinned over her shoulder. “You already did.”

“I barely did anything—”

“An invite, then!” Laughing, Sela kicked her tail and splashed down into the bay.

An invite to what? Twain stared after her, then shook his head and turned to the road. No horse, soaking wet, but at least I’m across the bay.

Shoes squelching, he set off into the countryside.