And as he rode across the black rock of his realm, he knew a part of him understood why she would hide.

It was simply that the other part of him, her husband, the man who loved her, did not.

He was buoyed when he saw Keel Castle in the distance, it’s gray stone, ocean-blue tiled turrets, the swirls of colonnades cutting through the grounds leading to it.

He and his men rode around, heading direct for the magnificent gate which was fashioned of chalk-colored stone, much different than the rest of the castle.

It was a colossal five-story-high statue of a woman, her eyes black holes, the expression on her face impassive, her hair that hung all the way down to the ground carved long and thick with curls and waves, threaded with seaweed, kelp and coral.

Great fins swept out where her shoulders should be. Out and down, through her hair, pointing at each side to the gate that would be at her womb.

And at her chest was a pendant in which was a trident, the weapon of Triton, the sea god, her husband.

It was a statue of their goddess, Medusa.

Upon seeing them, the guards at the gate opened the doors and Aramus and his men rode right through.

After they rode up the lane, through the portcullis and the arched opening under the guardhouse beyond, into the cobbled courtyard, men who were no longer bound to service (for he himself had freed his own) moved forward to take the reins of the horses.

Aramus dismounted but he saw his queen racing out of the trefoil arched doors to the castle proper, her skirts drifting out behind her in her haste.

“Aramus! Where have you been?” she demanded as she ran down the steps. “You’ve been gone ages, and no one knew where you went. I’ve been worried sick.”

He moved to her and stopped when they met, taking in her face, which was a mixture of anger and concern.

Her beauty was unparalleled, this was the sole reason why she was his wife.

But somehow, over the centuries, this had led to the kings of his realm to discovering sunken treasure for that beauty was small compared to the beauty within.

And she was mermaid.

“Well?” she spat. “I put two very anxious girls to bed—”

“You should have told me.”

She clamped her mouth shut, her eyes rounding before they filled with fear.

She knew he knew.

His men filed around him, making their way into the castle silently, eyes averted from the couple, as the servants led their horses away.

He should not do this on the castle steps. It was the last place he should do it.

It simply did not seem like he could stop himself.

“What gave you any impression that you could not tell me?” he asked.

“Tell you what?” she queried in return, and he was not angry, he was also not not angry.

But at her question, he was beginning to feel angry.