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  “Caspian,” my mother says, “as soon as Ervin Zung gets here, I want you to work alongside him on translating the finer points of the letter.”

  “S-surely he won’t need my help,” Caspian says.

  “You’ve translated Havelock’s written Mermese twice before; you know his style. I’m certain you’ll be an asset.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. N-Your Majesty. It would be an honor.” At the thought of working with the Foundation’s leading linguistics expert, Caspian looks more than a little starstruck.

  But disappointment pricks me at the news. So much for Caspian getting a message to Clay. Could I tell Amy? She’s scheduled to return Above with her parents later tonight. I haven’t told her or any of my sisters Clay has his memories back because I wanted to shield them from any culpability for keeping my secret. But I can’t leave Clay oblivious to the danger he’s in. Would she judge me for going against the Tribunal’s order, or would she agree that the ruling itself is wrong?

  “Put the rest of the palace on lockdown until further notice,” my father orders the guards.

  “What about Amy? And the twins?” I ask. “They have to get back to school. And Em’s supposed to go back to work at the Foundation tomorrow.”

  “We can’t spare the guards to watch them Above. Em will just have to work from here for a while longer. As for Amy and the twins, well, safety is more important than school.”

  “Until we know more, we’re turning this palace into a stronghold for you girls. No one leaves,” my mother says.

  My whole face sinks, both at the heavy knowledge that my very existence is putting everyone I love in danger and at the awareness that I now have no one who can pass a message to Clay.

  Wait. “Can I go to my room now?” I ask. I keep my tone sad and a little scared when really, urgency buzzes through my every pore.

  I only have one option left to alert Clay, and I need to find out if I can pull it off.

  Six guards escort me to my room, two on either side of me, one in front, and one behind. They do a full sweep when we get there. Once the arched double doors to my bedroom lock behind me, the guards wade outside. More watch the hallway and the vertical portholes in the floor that lead to the other stories. Others float outside each of my windows, their backsides visible through the amber glass, which is stained in a myriad of bright colors and at odds with my somber mood.

  The sight of each guard brings reassurance that helps me fight the slithering fear of Mr. Havelock lying in wait for me. I feel silly when I check inside the bureau again. And childish. But I do it anyway. Then I peek under the slowly drifting fabric of my vanity.

  With shaking hands, I draw the embroidered curtains closed. As much as seeing the guards helps calm me, I can’t risk anyone witnessing what I’m about to do.

  I tuck my tail beneath me and settle on the antique rug, weighed down by heavy agate gems sewn into its fringe to keep it on the floor in front of my bed. I place my hands palm up on my gold scales and let my eyelids flutter shut.

  When I released all the magic I’d seized from Ondine back into the ocean, I believed I’d be forsaking spell casting forever. After witnessing the harm it can do, the unexpected consequences it can have, forswearing seemed the safest course. But that plan washed away as quickly as sand in a storm the moment Clay asked for my help. Ridding myself of Ondine’s magic was the right decision—her magic was dangerous and insidious in its ability to swallow up everything I am—but that doesn’t mean I should rid myself of everything she taught me about my own magic.

  “You must learn to harness power on your own,” she said to me, her voice tinkling like fine-cut glass, the ice-blue streaks in her blond hair catching the light.

  Finding a spell to turn Clay into a Merman isn’t my only challenge by far. Once we find one, I need to be strong enough to cast it. And let’s be real: right now, I haven’t got a chance. That’s why, every day since Clay asked me that daunting, thrilling question, I’ve carved out secret time to practice my magic. To let it grow stronger using all the techniques I learned under Ondine’s tutelage. Now, I’m hoping all that practice pays off.

  I pull my focus to my center, sensing the bond I share with Clay. This is the easy part. After all, we’ve shared this same bond since I let my siren spell wear off. Instead of disappearing, our siren bond transformed into something unprecedented, linking us so we can feel each other’s presence, sense each other’s emotions. By tapping into Ondine’s magic, I could strengthen the bond enough to see Clay as if he sat right in front of me, enough even to hear his thoughts. On my own, I couldn’t do either.

  Ondine’s words come back to me: “Eventually, once you have learnt enough magic, it will become a constant that flows through you, and you can use yourself as the power source.”

  After practicing every day, evoking the bond and feeding just a touch more of my own magic into it than the day before, I’m still nowhere near able to see Clay. But ever since the ritual that opened his mind to me so I could send him my memories of the two of us and unlock his own, I’ve been able to hear his thoughts. When I go inside his head, I can pick up blurry images through his eyes of whatever he’s looking at, and the images are getting steadily sharper with practice.

  I can even use my mind to nudge at his consciousness now, so he knows I’m there. It makes me feel less like some sketchy peeping Tom and more like we’re in it together. But I haven’t tried to send him any of my own thoughts yet; it took so much magic during the ritual that the prospect makes my nerves knot up. Nerves or not, though, now that Mr. Havelock has escaped and Clay sits at home oblivious to the danger, I have to try.

  The gentle pulse of the bond thrums at my core. What used to be the thinnest thread now winds thick as the yarn my human friend Kelsey bought in different colors when she took up knitting. I miss having Kelsey to talk to.

  Focus, I tell myself. Time to rein in the brain.

  Yes, the bond is thicker now—not the rope it was when I used Ondine’s power, but I’ll get it there. I latch on to it, and mirth engulfs my senses. Clay is laughing at … I’m not sure what. The feedback is fuzzy, more like an Impressionist painting than the livestream I used to have access to. He’s out somewhere. Other people mill around him. I can’t make out their faces, but the combination of familiarity and quiet happiness they inspire in Clay tells me they’re friends. Smooth brown wood surrounds him at sleek, modern angles. No other details reach me, but that’s enough. He’s hanging out at the Lumber Yard mall with the guys.

  His laughter warms me, opening my chest and easing the tension in my shoulders as if it rumbled through my own body. I could float on it for a while, give in to the relaxation and comfort. So nice, so—No. I came with a purpose. I can’t let the magic carry me away.

  Hey, Nautilus. Then, I love you. The words come easier to him here, in his own mind, than when he says them aloud. He thinks them much more often than I would have expected, and it makes my fins curl. Call it a perk of strengthening my magic.

  Filius Havelock has escaped. Guards are on their way, but you need to be vigilant. Stay safe. More soon. I think the message as forcefully as I can, pushing from my mind, across the bond, to his.

  I wonder what you’re wearing, Clay teases. Tides, Clay—this so isn’t the time. He must not have heard me. I breathe in, breathe out, try again.

  Filius Havelock has escaped. Guards are on the way. Stay vigilant and safe. More soon. This time, as I push the words through, I focus on how important each one is and how much I love Clay.

  An emotion flares up in him and rushes into my chest. Alarm? No, confusion.

  Lia? Lia, did you … did you say something. Can you do that? The teasing note returns. Was it what you’re wearing?

  Oh, enough. If Mr. Havelock finds and kills you before the guards get there, you won’t give two cowries what I’m wearing because we’ll never see each other again. Boys!

  Okay, it’s not Clay’s fault. He has no clue anyt
hing’s wrong. But why didn’t transmitting my thoughts work? Isn’t focusing on love supposed to be, like, a catch-all magical solution?

  Muffled voices permeate my mind. Clay must be talking out loud to his friends. The background changes from brown wood to bright white.

  I went into the restroom so I could focus. He thinks. Want to try again?

  My energy is already draining. Maybe I’ve overestimated my magic. Maybe I’m just not ready for this.

  Nautilus? You gonna try?

  Or maybe … maybe it’s not all or nothing. What if I’m overcomplicating things? Something simpler? Sucking in another breath of oxygen-infused water, I let it flow through me, connecting me to the sea that surrounds me, bringing me in tune with the magic that ebbs and flows in me like the tides. Diving deep into that small reservoir of magic I’ve been building up inside myself, I push everything I can behind four simple words.

  Just four words. One at a time. Come on, come on.

  Filius. Escape. Guards. Coming. My head—my whole body—spins, but I hold my magic as tightly as Ondine and the others taught me to, as tightly as I did during the memory ritual. Even as my body screams, I thrust every ounce of that magical energy behind the words, propelling them forward to Clay.

  Something shatters, deep and everywhere and all at once. The words sink into Clay’s mind like a ship settling onto the ocean floor, the sand molding to embrace it, the seawater eager to explore its treasure. Filius. Escape. Guards. Coming. Relief and exhaustion flood through me. I did it.

  That’s all I can manage. Clay will have to figure out the rest on his own. My own voice reverberates inside my skull: Trust him. It’s the last thought I hear before I pass out.

  My entire family sits reunited around the dinner table in a sparkling palace for the first time. But silence lies on the marble tabletop alongside the untouched fillets of sole. Without discussing it, we all moved our chairs tonight, so instead of being evenly spaced down the long, regal dining table, they’re squooshed together at one end.

  I woke up on my bedroom floor with a crick in my tail and just enough time to get ready for dinner, but the energy drain was worth it. Clay’s not in the dark anymore. But now that I’ve taken every action I can to help keep him safe, I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do in the face of this looming threat. My fingers tap the table.

  “At least I get to skip my Mermese oration test next week,” Amy says, mustering a smile that barely reaches her cheeks let alone her eyes. Em pats her hand in a “nice try” sort of way.

  “Don’t worry, Lia,” Lapis says. “It’s not like we blame you for disrupting our lives.”

  “Oh, like you’re upset about it,” Lazuli replies, elbowing her. Lapis’s glare practically shouts “shut up!”

  “I’m surprised, too, Lapis,” my mother says, tone even. “I would have thought you’d be over the waves to spend some more time with Beck.” Lapis’s mouth drops open. “What? You think I don’t have eyes?” My father chuckles at my mom’s words. “Just don’t distract him when he’s on duty.” She raises her eyebrows expectantly until Lapis nods. My mom takes a sip of seaberry juice and snaps the mouthpiece closed with her chin in a way I’m still getting used to, then adds, “Why don’t you invite him to dinner next week?”

  A grin spreads across Lapis’s face, and she nods. Amy and I share a look. On any other night, this would be a huge development. It’s been a long time since either of the twins was serious enough about a boy to have him over. Lazuli and my dad begin teasing Lapis, and even Em joins in, saying Lapis should hire her wedding planner. It starts to feel like a normal family dinner again. I take my first bite of sole, and it tastes better than I expected.

  At least now, I get to have my sisters around me again. Fear, cold and creeping, still lurks at the base of my spine at the thought of Mr. Havelock out there somewhere, plotting to come after me, but … I’m going to be smart this time. I’ll listen to my parents’ every word, I won’t go sneaking around without guards, and I won’t leave the palace for any reason.

  I glance out the windows at the backs of the guards floating there, then at the ones outside the doors. So many more than at breakfast this morning, and even more throughout the city armed with the best weapons. This afternoon, the council members in charge of magical reintegration set up a committee that put up protective wards, and now work in shifts to ensure those wards stay strong around the clock. Nothing’s getting in this castle.

  I roll my shoulders and take another bite.

  “Your Majesties?” Ervin Zung swims into the room, Caspian at his side. “I apologize for interrupting your dinner, but you said you wanted to know as soon as we finished the translation.”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” my mother says. Wiping her mouth with her napkin and replacing the hole in one corner of its fabric around its hook at the table’s edge before folding her hands like she’s at the most important of business meetings.

  “Please, sit,” my father offers. They don’t.

  “Caspian did a superior job in his preliminary translation,” says the linguistics expert.

  I’d expect Caspian to beam, especially considering the source of the compliment is a man he’s idolized for years. But Caspian’s pale face remains as drawn as Mr. Zung’s brown one.

  “Each symbol meaning he assigned proved correct upon further analysis. Splendid really, quite astute. But, erm …” The linguistics expert runs an unsteady hand over the black spirals of his hair. “After spending the day interpreting and reinterpreting possible meanings, we’ve something to add to his original assessment.”

  My mother leans forward in her high-backed chair. “A hint at Filius Havelock’s whereabouts, I hope?”

  “Unfortunately not.”

  “What then, vuditi?” asks my father, using the traditional term of respect offered to scholars.

  Caspian swallows as Mr. Zung points to a section on the red algae letter he has pored over for hours. “Filius Havelock does indeed intend to perform a ritual that he says will have, and I quote, ‘an indelible impact on our species and its future.’” What does that mean? I shake my left fin nervously under the table. “Aside from that, the details of said ritual are unclear, but undoubtedly, preventing it must be of the highest priority. The good news is, it appears that the ritual requires the presence of the girl he refers to.”

  “So, if we keep her safely away from him, no ritual?” my mother clarifies, her eyes darting to me as if to ensure I haven’t been kidnapped in the last twenty seconds.

  “Precisely,” Mr. Zung replies.

  Okay. Okay—I can stay inside this palace until they capture him if that’s what it takes to protect my entire species from some terrifying ritual. It means I won’t get to see Clay, but it’s just temporary and I can keep researching in the library as new konklilis come in, so I’ll have plenty to keep me busy.

  I nod at my parents and sisters, and a fraction of our tension dissipates.

  “There’s, um, one more thing.” Caspian’s eyes meet mine before sliding away, staring unseeing off to the side.

  “Caspian here was correct in his translation of this description: ‘the foolish’ or possibly ‘the naive young girl who caused power to slip from my hold and who will now pay for her mistake.’”

  “Yes, we remember that part,” my father says, forehead lined.

  “After meeting with your law enforcement officials today, reviewing the court recordings from the trial, and listening to the notes on Havelock’s recent visits, we can’t be certain this letter refers to Lia at all.”

  What is he talking about? Who else could it refer to?

  At Mr. Zung’s signal, five more Mer swim into the dining room: four more guards and …

  No. Please no. Hard, sapphire eyes lock onto mine as Melusine’s cloying voice asks a terrible question. “Guess who’s your new roommate?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Melusine

  Yesterday, al
l I wanted was to live in this palace. To replace the gray walls of my cell at the Foundation with the sophistication and finery of these white coral ones, sparkling with crystallized ice and hanging with fine paintings. But it means nothing now.

  From long years of practice, I kept my emotions in check throughout the remainder of my interrogation, then during the long carriage ride here—and even in the presence of that family, as Lia threw a tantrum like a little guppy when she found out we’d be under the same roof. All the little snot cared about was keeping me as far away from her as possible. Like I want to be anywhere near her.

  But now, as armed guards lock the doors behind me, I’m finally alone for the first time since those frortik officers threw that bag over my head last night. I pull my thumbnail away from the indentation I’ve dug into the side of my finger, the salt water stinging the raw open moon it leaves in its wake. The instant it does, wave after wave of rage crashes through me.

  Why?

  Why didn’t he give me some clue? Some warning? I’ve run through every word we spoke yesterday morning, and all the times before that, and there was nothing. Nothing! Even if this is all part of some intricate plan of his to get me into the palace, he should have found a way to tell me. He shouldn’t have just left me in the dark with no warning and no idea how he wants me to play this. No idea what I’m supposed to do now. How could he do this to me? How could he … how could he …

  I scream, over and over, letting this tsunami inside me storm out until my vocal chords are raw. So what if the guards outside hear me? I won’t have to face them. They won’t give a cowrie what I do as long as I don’t try to leave.

  I throw a chair hard, then sweep my arms across the vanity, sending ornate bottles and carved combs everywhere. But it doesn’t help. Their clattering doesn’t drown out the thoughts cycloning through me. How could he … why didn’t he … what am I supposed to … “Ahhhhhh!”