Page 10 of The Merman's Betrothal
Fionn barked a rough laugh. ‘Ha! What, indeed. By then it will be too late anyway.’ He feigned the action of brushing hair out of his face to mask the stinging of his eyes.
‘Why too late?’ Neacel sounded fearful, like the question was a rotten clam he wasn’t sure of opening.
‘I’ll have seen him,’ Fionn said. ‘The magic of the marriage bargain is simple. The First Prince forms a soul bond with the first member of the Redfolk kin that he lays eyes on.’
Neacel walked quietly beside him for a moment. There were stars shining overhead. Fionn picked out familiar constellations: the selkie, the sea serpent, the oarfish. It might be the last time he’d see those stars. He couldn’t imagine what the firmament of the fae realm would look like. Surely nothing so beautiful as this, as his home.
‘Just like that?’ Neacel asked.
‘Just like what?’
Neacel’s petite brow was deeply furrowed. He seemed pained by the situation he was contemplating. ‘Your soul bond. I thought your wedding would be like a normal Bluefolk bonding ceremony. Where the king ignites the soul bond between you both. It’s such a sacred thing.’
Fionn supposed he could forgive this assumption from Neacel. A normal soul bond was entered into voluntarily. It wasa choice made by individuals who wished to share the rest of their lives together: the ultimate act of devotion. Sacred, like Neacel said.
Fionn had witnessed numerous soul bonding ceremonies throughout his life. He had no role in the proceedings, was just there as decoration. But he was grateful to have a good view by the throne. He’d watched with envy as the king performed his ritual between the betrothed parties: a binding of blood from the partners involved, mixed with blood from the Blue King to transfer his soul bond magic to unite them. And then the king would bless their union into marriage and personally etch the tattoo into their palms.
A farcical version of this lay in store for Fionn. His soul bond ceremony would be cold and political. Tightly controlled, too—they could not risk him seeing the wrong Redfolk kinsman first. Fionn would experience much of the event from behind a blindfold.
He wasn’t sure how to respond to Neacel’s apparent disbelief. ‘Do you not know the story of King Uradech and the origins of the marriage bargain?’
‘I know some of the songs.’ Neacel smiled sheepishly. ‘The nursery rhymes and so on. I know that King Uradech made the bargain with the Redfolk six hundred years ago to protect our kingdom. That we renew our alliance with them through royal marriage. But I don’t understand how such a deal can dictate your soul bond.’
Fionn uttered a frustrated ‘Hmph.’ But perhaps it was no surprise for the popular renditions of history to leave out the sordid details, he considered. Bluefolk were a proud people, after all. It was much easier to swallow the Redfolk’s demands if they were dressed up as willing acts of diplomacy.
Supposedly, the purpose of the entire marriage arrangement was to ensure a ‘peaceful dialogue’ between their two tribes. But as far as Fionn was concerned, it was a hostage situation.
‘Our marriage bargain was bound in the blood of the Red and the Blue Kings of the time. So it was formed from the mixing of the soul bond magic that they harboured,’ Fionn more or less recited from memory. ‘It created this bastardised soul bond that dwells in every First Prince, waiting to ignite upon first contact with any Redfolk soul. It is not possible for me to simplyrefuseif I do not want it.’
‘That’s awful.’ Neacel’s disbelief turned to dismay. ‘It is clear this grieves you.’
Was it? Fionn hadn’t meant to let on so much.
‘I will do my duty.’ Fionn had expected to become aggravated if they continued discussing the subject but, strangely, he felt himself relaxing the more he spoke about it. He felt moved to say something daring. ‘You might call all soul bonds sacred. But I’d call mine a curse, personally.’
Neacel visibly recoiled. ‘And to think, I know people who believe you are gifted with a fated bond to your betrothed.’
‘A fated bond?’ Fionn resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Such things were the subject of legends and children’s stories. ‘How an earth would that work?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps the fates themselves might intervene to ensure you are matched with your natural soul mate.’
Neacel seemed to be treating the question seriously, which made Fionn stop in the middle of the road. ‘Don’t tell me you believe in soul mates.’
When Neacel didn’t answer, a quick glance revealed that he’d flushed an even deeper shade of pink. The poor kid really was a romantic. Did anyone but children believe in soul mates these days?
The concept of a fated bond—a soul bond that would spontaneously ignite with your destined other half—was the chance-in-a-million so rare that only dreamers believed the old stories were true. Fionn said as much to Neacel.
‘What is the harm in dreaming?’ Neacel responded with a slight edge to his voice. ‘Such stories give us hope. Take the legend of Nechtan and Bridei. I may hope to know a love so pure one day.’
Fionn couldn’t help but scorn this. The legend of Nechtan and Bridei was a breathtakingly romantic ode about two fated Minchmen who found each other at the forming of the kingdom thousands of years ago.
‘Who could ever hope to have a love so pure as theirs?’ Fionn said with poorly masked ire. ‘One that spans worlds and wars and such great loss? Why would Nechtan leave everything he holds dear just to follow Bridei into the unknown? Giving up his crown and his kingdom? It doesn’t make sense given everything Nechtan says about duty at the beginning of the story. And I don’t see why Bridei should change his mind about Nechtan after their soul bond ignites. It is unrealistic.’
Neacel tilted his head, lips pursed. ‘You know the story well, then.’
Heat crept up Fionn’s neck. He hadn’t meant for it to become a rant, but it was a legend that had gotten under his skin for everything it represented. Nechtan and Bridei shared an all-consuming type of a love he could never hope to attain. Unlike Neacel, Fionn’s situation had no room for hope.
Yet he always listened raptly to the story whenever someone told it, and tried to ignore the jealous heartache it inspired in him.
