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“Thank you,” I tell him, clutching the fabric to my chest and managing a smile. I decide I don’t care how stained the fabric gets. I’m keeping this and making a dress out of it and it’ll still be the finest thing I’ve ever owned. I pet the soft linen and ignore how my callused fingers catch against it.
He watches me for a moment and then turns, pulling a satchel off his shoulder. “I brought more.”
“More fabric?”
The sea-ogre shakes his head and opens the sack. Out spill something like…cattails. Cattails and a large berry that looks like a milky pink bubble. I’m perplexed at the sight of these things, but he picks one cattail up and breaks it open, and downy fluff pours out of it. “Absorbent,” he says. “It might help.”
“Gods, this is perfect,” I cry, so relieved I could weep fresh tears. “You’re wonderful.”
The sail atop his head flicks and he picks up one of the pink bubbles. “For you.”
“What is it?” I sniff it, but it doesn’t smell like anything. It looks waxy and strange, the size of a small plum. There’s dozens of them in the bag, too.
“After you said that you couldn’t eat fish today, I remembered that my mother likes a certain type of seagrass fruit once a month. I thought the reason might be similar. You eat them.” His eyes are dark, his expression cagey, as if he’s uncomfortable sitting here with me. “Try one.”
Oh. Food and fabric? I’m touched that he went to such effort, and a little worried, too. What if he decides I’m not worth all the trouble? Gingerly, I lift one of the bubbles to my lips and try to take a bite. The skin of it is hard, like an enormous grape, and I end up popping the entire thing in my mouth and chewing so it doesn’t splatter everywhere. A sweet, milky flavor floods my mouth when the bubble bursts, and it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. It’s like berries and sweetness and milk all combined into one syrupy bite. His mother must crave sweets during her menses, too. I snatch another up and eat it.
“Better?” he asks, rich voice oddly demanding.
I nod enthusiastically, raising a hand to my mouth to cover it as I chew the tougher skin. “You are too kind, truly, Ranan.”
He crouches in front of me on his haunches, silent but full of tension. “You lied to me again.”
A shiver runs down my spine. His voice is so low and deep that it makes everything sound ominous. I can’t tell if he’s pointing this out as a fact or if he’s upset with me. “Aye, I did. I thought an old wound might be better than my menses. Most men think a woman unclean while she bleeds. I’m making a mess, I can’t practice swimming, and I worried you’d be upset.”
“I am more upset at the lies. You said you would stop.”
“I know.” My voice is small and frightened. “It’s…habit. No one wants to hear the truth from a slave.”
“I do.” He puts his finger under my chin and forces me to look him in the eye. “You are my wife.”
But I’m not. He can say I’m his wife, but we haven’t had a ceremony. We haven’t shared a bed and we barely know each other. Nothing is permanent yet and it would be far too easy to walk it back. “I just didn’t want you to change your mind. I don’t want to be a bother to you.”
I’m still thinking about that day on the beach, and how he’d almost left me. In that moment, I realized that my future is more fragile than I’d realized, and it could end up being worse than the fate I’d had in Sunswallow.
Ranan’s eyes flash with irritation. “I told you that you were my wife. How do I prove this to you?”
“I don’t know.” All I know is that I’m going to do my best not to anger him. I’m going to be the sweetest, most eager bride ever. Perhaps I should try touching him to ease things along. My abdomen cramps with another painful squeeze and I shove another seagrass fruit into my mouth so I can avoid answering him.
With another frustrated growl, Ranan gets to his feet and stalks out of the tent.