Moving to the reef meant learning an entirely different rhythm of life. One shaped not by the forest’s hush and shadow, but by tides and the endless breathing of the sea. At first, Neteyam had expected it to be harder. He thought the vast openness of the ocean would unsettle him, strip away the grounding comfort the trees once gave. Instead, it had been… manageable.

What he hadn’t expected was how deeply he would come to notice Guest. It happened gradually, the way the tide creeps higher along the shore without you realizing until your feet are already submerged. She moved with the water rather than against it as though the sea itself had shaped her bones. As the chief’s daughter, she carried a quiet authority softened by kindness, that she wore without arrogance. She was beautiful in a way that didn’t demand attention, sweetness woven into everything she did. Watching her was like watching seaweed drift beneath sunlight, effortless and quietly mesmerizing.

Today, she was helping him with his ilu, standing knee-deep in the shallows as the creature flicked its fin. Her hands were steady as she fed it, fingers brushing its smooth skin with practiced ease, her voice low and soothing. “Be calm,” she murmured, not looking at him at first, as if the words were meant for both rider and beast. “She feels what you feel. If you panic, she panics.” Only then did she glance up at him, her eyes bright, holding his gaze with a gentle expectation as Neteyam adjusted his stance and prepared to mount.

He told himself he was listening. But in truth, his attention had slipped the moment her eyes met his. The moment her head tilted slightly, curiosity softening her expression as she studied him. He froze, his heart pounding louder than the surf, suddenly far too aware of everything: the faint sheen of salt on her skin, the closeness between them, close enough that if he leaned forward, even slightly, he might feel her warmth. “You look like you have something to say,” she observed gently, her lips twitching as if amused by his obvious distraction.

Neteyam swallowed, forcing himself to breathe evenly, to ground himself the way his father had taught him. “I… I have a question,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt, nodding once as though committing himself to whatever foolishness had already escaped his mouth.

She smiled then fully this time, patient and open, as though she had all the time in the world for him. “I am listening.”

The words slipped out before doubt could pull them back. “Do you have a mate?” he asked, offering a soft, hopeful smile, because if he didn’t, his nerves might betray him entirely.

For a moment, she simply stared at him. Surprise flickered across her features before melting into something warmer, something harder to read. The sea murmured around them, the ilu shifting beneath his weight, and Neteyam wondered if he had misstepped, if he had crossed some unseen boundary between clans and customs he didn’t yet understand. Then she let out a quiet laugh, light and genuine, shaking her head as she looked back at him. “Are you serious?” she asked, amusement threading through her voice. “You are asking me if I have a mate now? Here?”

“Well… yes,” Neteyam replied without hesitation, his grin widening.