The Only Exception

The cool water washes over a majority of my tailfin, soothing the burns from the sun. My caudal fin, the iridescent light blue appendage attached to my fish-like lower half, hangs out of the tub I'm situated in. Prince Gustav put me here in, what he called, his "bathroom" when we arrived at the castle.

Technically he bribed a guard to carry me up several flights of stairs and put me in the bathroom. There's no way he could pick me up on his own; he's far too tiny.

The door to the bathroom opens and Gustav walks in. He left to locate bandaging supplies at least twenty minutes ago. However, there is nothing in his hands. No bandages, ointments, needles or threads; nothing.

Maybe he was distracted by a shiny spoon on his quest.

"Weren't you supposed get something?" I ask, hoping to jog his memory.

"I forgot that I have bandages in my medicine cabinet," he mumbles, a light flush coloring his cheeks.

Of course he did.

I bite back a laugh or rude comment as he searches through the mentioned cabinet. He seems embarrassed enough, there's no need to make it worse. I do want to get out of here alive after all.

Gustav pulls out a set of bandages and a bottle of brown tinted liquid, smiling victoriously. The liquid in the bottle is foreign to me. In the sea, liquid applicators are useless. They float to the surface or mix with the water once the bottle is open. Ointments are practical for medical use. Gustav could be trying to poison me for all I know.

But he's not smart enough to pull that off, as least not planned. I don't put it past him to kill me on accident.

He kneels next to the tub, unscrewing the top of the bottle.

"This might hurt a little," he warns.

That's reassuring.

The bottle of liquid is tipped, spilling a small amount on my injury. A burning sensation, more painful than that of the sun's rays, swells through my collarbone. I jump in shock, pushing the bottle away.

"Holy mother of Poseidon, what the fuck is that?" I yell.

"Stuff to disinfect your wound," he replies, eyes wide.

Nothing needs to be disinfected. Human medicines wouldn't work to cure any infections I could get anyway.

"Never pour that on me again."

He nods, closing the bottle and putting it to the side. His attention turns to the bandages. I doubt they'll last long in the water. Adhesive and liquid does not create durability. But it is something to prevent the gash from bleeding in excess while I swim to my home.

Gustav scoots closer to the tub. With shaky hands, he begins dressing the wound. I let my eyes roam his features freely. His hair is messy, from running around I suppose. Its jet black color contrasts with his pastel skin. His eyebrows match each other due to work from a faultless hand. The stormy color of his eyes, a perfect grey-blue, reminds me of how I ended in his tub. His nose has no bumps or blemishes. It protrudes with a strong bridge, no button tip. A nose worthy of a king. He nibbles on his light pink lips with teeth so white a clam's pearl would be jealous.

He is flawless.

Such a stupid creature was blessed with such beauty. Maybe he's part merman. It's possible. A human and merperson can mate. Sometimes the results are disastrous. I have seen part-mer children born with deformities that make their lives difficult to live because their parents were too brainless to think before they reproduced. But I've seen part-mer children with beauty that could rival that of a full merperson. Gustav could be one of them.

Or maybe I'm not giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Gustav finishes dressing the wound, tying a tight knot to keep the bandages in place. I guess he did think about it falling off in the water.

"All done," he declares, wrapping the rest of the dressing back around itself to store.

He does not look me in the eye. He even avoided skin contact when he wrapped the bandage around my wound. I've scared him that much. I don't blame him for being scared. After being threatened with death and yelled at, I'm surprised he's still sitting there. I would not have stuck around, nor helped, a person who treated me that bad.

The guilt is pounding at my heart. That's not something I'm used to.

My hand emerges from the water in the tub, droplets falling from my fingertips. I place it in his hair and brush my fingers through his locks in order to smooth them out. He looks at me, obviously afraid.

"I'm sorry I yelled you," I whisper.

"It's okay," he replies, voice just as quiet.

I know its not.

"Thank you for helping me," I lean forward and press my lips to his porcelain cheek.

When I pull away, his complexion is red. And I think my own evenly tanned skin may be too.