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Chapter 37

His merman said, “That’s an insult. I should be insulted. Why am I still here?”

“Because you like Gwen’s bread and watching me.”

“I don’t.”

“You said,” Peter pointed out, “that you were.” And he was five years old again, bickering with a cousin. How had a glittering-eyed sea-prince managed that particular magic?

Nerein’s eyes were very blue at the moment, he noticed.

A ripple appeared in the pool behind them. A flying fish leapt, silver over sunstreaks.

“The King wants me,” Nerein said. “I should go.” He shifted weight, but did not move.

“Say hello for me,” Peter said, half-flippantly. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, will I?”

“Maybe,” his merman retorted, diving off the rock, chasing that silver arrow. He did not make a splash; the water closed over him, taking him in.

He’d left the tail end of the bread. Peter looked at it pensively. And wondered when, in his head, Nerein had become hismerman.3