Chapter 6

Morgan almost fell into the water. The beautiful human even reached out to help steady him but ended up wincing and falling back against his seaweed bed. “Forgive me,” he said in a weak voice. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No! I mean, I wasn’t … or I was, but it’s not … um, never mind me,” Morgan finally settled on. “Listen to you! You can speak! And a civilized language at that!” He beamed at the human. “I didn’t know your kind could speak like an Agnarra.”

“I … Agnarra?”

“Ye-eees?” Morgan trailed off as he watched the man’s face for any sign of recognition. There was nothing there. Better try another tack. “Um, I’m Morgan. What’s your name?”

“My name? It’s …” The man’s eyes drifted away from Morgan as he looked inward, searching himself for his own identity. “I don’t … I don’t know.”

Morgan frowned. “You don’t remember your own name?”

“No.” He held up a partially burned hand, which wavered with weakness as he stared at it. “I … what happened to me?”

“You were a sailor on a human ship, I think,” Morgan said, careful not to give too much information. He wanted to trust this person, but Brevaer hadn’t been lecturing him nonstop on the evils of mankind for the past fifteen years for nothing. “There was a fire. You were the only survivor. You floated to this island, and I found you.”

“You saved me?”

Morgan smiled modestly. “I did.”

“And …” The human licked his chapped lips. “Are you the only one living here? I’ve been … drifting, I think, in and out of sleep. I kept expecting someone to come, but all I hear are the sounds of waves and the cries of gulls.”

Oh. Right.“Um. Ah. So …”

The human looked at Morgan with far too much discernment. “Are you the only one who knows I’m here?”

There was no point in lying about that. “Yes. And it should stay that way!” Morgan emphasized. “If you do hear anyone else coming around this beach, don’t call out to them! They won’t treat you … well,” he finished a bit unsteadily.

“Why not?”

“Because …” Morgan cast about for an answer that wouldn’t offend either the human or Morgan’s own sensibilities. “Because you’re not Agnarra. You’re human, and that means that technically, you’re trespassing on our lands.”

“But you pulled me from the sea, didn’t you? That makes your act one of mercy.”

“That is technically true,” Morgan allowed. “But I’m a very low-ranking member of my clan. No matter what I say about you, or about why I saved you, I’m not going to be listened to. And my people … let’s just say that we have no reason to think well of humans in general.”

“Oh.” The man stared at Morgan for a long moment without blinking, a tiny line between his eyebrows. “Then why did you save me?”

“Why did I—What, would you rather I had left you out in the ocean to be eaten by a pod of orcas?” Morgan demanded. Sea and wave, wasn’t anyone going to be on his side?

“Of course not.” That mollified him somewhat. “But I also don’t want to be the cause of any trouble for you.”

“Well, it’s too late for that!” Morgan said cheerfully. “My middle name is trouble—just ask my brother.” Or better yet, don’t. “And I don’t mean to let you cause any trouble for me, I assure you. I just want to get you feeling better. Once you’re well, I’ll figure out a way for you to go back to your own people.”

“That is extremely kind of you,” the man said. He seemed on the verge of saying more, but then a cough wracked his frame. A look of deep pain crossed his face, and a second later, blood bubbled up from between his lips.

“Oh no, no, what’s wrong?” Morgan reached out but didn’t dare touch for fear of making the pain worse. “Do you need water? I’ll get you water! Hang on!” He turned and ran for the nearest rain catch, scooped up water in his hands, and brought it back as fast as he could without spilling. “Here, here,” he said, scooting carefully along the rock wall until he was by the man’s head. “Drink this.” He tilted his hands but stopped just short of the human’s face, not sure how best to deliver the water given how the man was coughing.

A second later, the man reached out and grabbed Morgan’s wrist with his own shaking hand. He lowered his hands to his lips and drank greedily, and Morgan …

His mind blanked. He couldn’t do anything but stare as this strange person lapped water from his hands. It was uncomfortable for a reason he couldn’t quite put a word to and alluring for a reason he didn’t dare think about too deeply.

“You’re very injured,” Morgan babbled as the man finished drinking. “I’m sure your burns are painful; you should let me get fresh seaweed for them.”

“That would be nice,” the human admitted with a little gasp as he let his head fall back. “And if perhaps you could find me something to eat …”

“Oh, I’ve got that!” Morgan reached into his kilt and pulled out the yam patty he’d sequestered during lunch with Garen. “Here. It’s kind of bland, but that’s probably best for you right now.” As the man took it with a shaking hand, Morgan wondered whether he ought to offer to feed it to him.

Then again, he might totally lose what little dignity he had if he hand-fed this curious, clever creature he’d pulled ashore. “You eat, and I’ll find new seaweed for your wounds.”

Morgan darted to the shore, kicked off his clothes quickly, and waded out into the surf. If he was quick, he could get all the seaweed he needed in one dive. He flowed into his dragon shape and began to hunt around for the right variety. It needed to be thin and supple but thick enough that it wouldn’t dry to the man’s skin before Morgan could change it. He could only imagine how painful it would be to have to pull stuck seaweed off burned skin.

He surfaced with his arms full of the slippery bounty, which he then had to set down again so he could put his clothes back on. Propriety, ugh. By the time he made it back, the human was done eating. He was also staring at Morgan with a look of shock on his face.

“You … you changed into a …”

“Oh. Oh!” Morgan hadn’t thought twice about changing, but then again, why would this man know anything about sea dragons when he didn’t even remember his own name? “That’s my other form. Did you … like it?” If the man said it scared or disgusted him, Morgan didn’t know what he would do.

“You looked glorious.”

Glorious? Glorious!Morgan had never been called “glorious” before, and he rather liked it. “Why, thank you,” he said with a little preening toss of his green hair. “I’m actually far less impressive than many of my clan.”

“I don’t believe that for a moment.”

Morgan began to blush and hurriedly moved on to help change out the seaweed. “Your wounds are looking … pretty good, actually,” he said, surprised at how the edges were already receding. Who knew humans were such quick healers?

It had to be the seaweed. It had healing properties that worked wonders.

“They feel awful, so I’ll take your word for it.” The man smiled at him to let him know he wasn’t being too serious.

“What should I call you?” Morgan blurted out. “I can’t keep thinking of you as ‘the man’ in my head; it’s too distracting. What do you want your name to be?”

“I have no preference,” he said. “Really, I don’t. Pick something you like, and I’ll respond to it.”

Morgan looked consideringly at his companion. If there was one thing that stood out about him right now, injured and sick as he was, it was the brightness of his eyes. Not a fever brightness, but the blue of the sea, sparkling under the sunlight. “Auban,” he said at last. Bright.

The man smiled. “Then Auban I shall be.”