Chapter 193
Chapter 193
The next morning, Maren emerged from the ocean, his skin feeling impossibly raw. His tail shimmered with the exhaustion of an all-night swim, and his eyes, though still haunted, held a sliver of clarity he hadn't possessed in months.
The birth of Nixxon's child—a beautiful, healthy baby girl—had been a powerful, anchoring experience. Holding the tiny, perfect infant, seeing the pure, unconditional love between Nixxon and Vernon, had been a sharp, painful reminder of the life he had destroyed.
He walked into the house, pausing by the stairs. He felt a desperate urge to speak to someone, specifically Bianca, the one person who still dared to look at him with a volatile mix of hatred and pity.
Maren found her alone in the living room, scrolling through her phone, a slow, scheming smile playing on her lips. He watched her for a full minute before he finally found his voice.
"Bianca," Maren rasped, his voice raw from disuse and the cold sea, "I… I need to ask you something."
Bianca looked up, her eyebrow arching with dramatic slowness. "Oh, the shell speaks. To what do we owe the honor, Prince? I thought you were saving your voice for the next three months."
Maren ignored the jab. "Have… have you gone to bring Blue back?" he asked, the words a desperate plea disguised as a question.
Bianca shrugged, returning her attention to her phone. "Why would I? He left a note saying he'd visit when the baby was born. Nixxon just gave birth an hour ago... Neireda informed me," She glanced up again, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You'll have to ask Dane. He knows the travel plans. He's in his room."
Maren nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. He turned and rushed up the stairs, the hope of seeing Blue again, even if only from a distance, overriding his shame.
Maren found Dane in his room, carefully packing a duffel bag.
"Dane," Maren said, his tone urgent. "Bianca said you know when you are leaving to see Blue."
Dane paused, looking Maren up and down—the damp, exhausted figure of the Prince in nothing but a pair of swim trunks.
"Yeah, we're leaving soon," Dane confirmed. He crossed his arms. "And you're not going with us, Maren."
"Please," Maren swallowed his pride, a bitter, unfamiliar taste. "I need to see him. I just... I need to see him and apologize. I need to tell him how sorry I am for everything."
Dane tilted his head. "Look, I get it. But Blue doesn't need your guilt. And frankly, your presence is trauma for him. We're going to bring him here, not scare him off. We don't want to lose the only human who knows how to make Nixxon stop crying."
"I won't speak to him," Maren promised earnestly. "I just need to see him, to make sure he's alright. And... to apologize for the final time. I swear, I won't go near him."
Dane sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked back at his conversation with Bianca from the night before: He has to be there, Dane. But he can't look like himself. Blue needs to be thrown off balance. We need chaos.
"Alright," Dane conceded, a slow grin spreading across his face. "You can come. But only on my conditions. You won't speak to Blue, you will stay in the car, and you will not look like a grieving Prince."
Maren looked confused. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, you have to dress as we please," Dane said, pulling out a ridiculous assortment of human clothes from his closet. "We need a diversion. And you, Maren, are going to be it."
Maren glanced at the clothes—a white tank top, a pair of black faded jeans, and a garish, half-buttoned black silk shirt with a gold print. It was the antithesis of his usual simple, elegant style.
"Fine," Maren agreed instantly, determination blazing in his eyes. "I'll do whatever you want. Just let me see him."
___
Meanwhile, across the country, Blue was standing in his small, white-washed studio apartment, the scent of turpentine and sea salt filling the air. He was putting the finishing touches on a massive canvas.
He had painted relentlessly for three months, filling the emptiness in his soul with color and light. The current painting, a massive, swirling piece of abstract grief, was finally dry.
He carefully rolled the canvas and secured it with a leather strap before dropping it into a large, canvas duffel bag filled with other rolled works. Every piece in that bag was destined for someone at the mansion, a thank-you note in paint: an abstract piece for Dante, a bright landscape for Naomi, a warm portrait of Nixxon for Vernon, and a stark, black-and-white piece of fractured ice for Maren. He knew he couldn't give Maren a portrait of himself, not anymore.
His phone buzzed. Dane's text: Ten minutes till we arrive at your house.
Blue zipped the bag and walked into his small living room, where Black, his tall, handsome friend with shoulder-length brown hair and a beautiful, kind face, was waiting. Black was his co-worker from the gallery and was the only person who knew the full extent of Blue's suffering.
"Ready, my broken artist?" Black asked gently, hoisting his own bag.
"As I'll ever be," Blue replied, forcing a smile.
Black took Blue's duffel. "Let's go. We're getting you a change of scenery. A few weeks of absolute human normalcy is what you need."
They walked out of the house just as a car horn blared outside.
Blue stepped onto the pavement, his steps freezing mid-stride.
Leaning against the black luxury sedan, his dark shades concealing his eyes, was a tall, alluring, handsome man. He wore black jeans, a white tank top peeking out from a half-buttoned, black printed silk shirt. He looked exactly like some rich, mysterious dude you'd only encounter once on a private beach.
But Blue knew the lines of that body, the way the light caught the sharp angle of his jaw, the arrogant slouch of his shoulders. It was Maren.
Blue felt the familiar, cold pressure of panic, anger rise in his chest, and... nothing. He swore he almost lost his footing.
He quickly wrapped his arm around Black, pulling his friend close.
"Let's go," Blue said, his voice clipped and strained, marching toward the car. He would be damned if he let Maren's presence shatter his fragile resolve now.