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  I adjust the esslee he gave me, as if I’m fidgeting with nervousness. The movement draws attention to the way the creamy pearls stand out against the deep red silk of my siluess. The long chain wraps around the length of my torso, and I let my fingertips linger on my chest and bare stomach.

  “That, um, that looks really nice on you.”

  There, that wasn’t so hard. “Thanks,” I say, taking the opening I needed. “And not just for saying that. For …” I let my fingers run along the pearls one more time before stopping (wouldn’t want to overdo it), “… giving me this in the first place. I didn’t say thank you earlier.”

  I should have. That part’s truthful. Fortunately, it also reads that way, and his face lights up.

  “You’re welcome.” The little smile he offers me is so heartfelt, I don’t know what to do with it.

  “Wearing it’s kind of like having my mom here with me.” My voice breaks, just at the end. Why did I say that? That’s not his business. At the mention of my mom something pricks behind my eyes. Storms. I’d been doing so well.

  But he doesn’t laugh or grow uncomfortable at my slip; if anything, his tone grows more intimate and honest. “It was an honor to make it for you.”

  I … I don’t know what to say. I have to change the topic—fast, before I lose control of this one. While I’m struggling to come up with something, Caspian presents his hand with a small flourish. “Would you like to dance?”

  Yes, perfect, my father’s voice rejoices inside my head. This is precisely what he’d want: a big show in front of the highest Mer nobility that someone important—a hero at the top of the social hierarchy—deems me worthy. It couldn’t be better. But …

  “Why are you asking?” I narrow my eyes at him. After all, it could be a trick.

  “Because it’s a ball?” He chuckles. “People come here to dance.” He pushes his open hand a little farther forward.

  “No, they come here to watch other people dance,” I say. He tilts his head, his face a question. He’s so naïve it startles me. “And to see who they’re dancing with.” Which is exactly why I should put my hand in his.

  With practiced subtlety, I slowly push his hand down. “You’d have to be crazy to dance with me here, at the biggest, most symbolic event of the century. Think how it would look for you.”

  “I haven’t really cared about that for a while.”

  “You should.”

  He raises his eyebrows, asking one more time with his expression. I let my eyes harden. Someone has to save the fool from himself. “Okay, okay,” he says. “You don’t want to dance.”

  We lapse into awkward silence. I’ve made a mistake. I should have said yes. No, I did the right thing. It was too soon. I’m playing the long game, which means I need him to open up. What’s something friends would talk about? School is boring, the coronation isn’t personal enough … my best bet would be to get him to confide something. Didn’t my father always say relationships are about learning people’s secrets?

  In the corner of my eye, a gold blur moves toward the buffet table, and Caspian follows it with his gaze. His secret’s not so secret—at least not to me. I nod in her direction. “So … how are you feeling about all that? Lia, I mean.” Why am I mumbling? How hard is it to string words together? Be better, I tell myself, as I drift onto a window seat in a nearby alcove, hoping he’ll do the same. He does, settling his silver tail against the plush cushion of red-dyed star grass.

  “It’s … Lia is … we don’t have to talk about it. I know you probably don’t care.”

  That’s exactly the kind of opinion of me I have to kill if I want to follow my father’s advice. “No, it’s fine. Really. She’s certainly not on my list of most favoritest people.” My voice drips with the fake candy coating I loathe in others, especially Lia, but that’s counterproductive, so I tone it down as I continue. “But she’s on yours, so I’m guessing whatever went down between you stings.” I don’t know the details of their conversation, but it was a long swim back from Sea Daughters Academy, and he was still hurt enough to admit that he uttered those three little words that turn Merfolk into morons.

  And she chose Clay.

  “Yeah, it does.” He brings a hand up to his head, then he must remember he’s underwater where he doesn’t need to smooth his blond hair, because he lowers it again.

  “And usually if you were upset, you’d talk to her about it. Which I’m sure isn’t an option. So,” I move in just a hair closer, “you can talk to me.” I shrug. “If you feel like it.”

  “Lia is …” He searches the room until he spots her far on the other side of it, floating by the thrones as she chats with her parents. She tosses one of her perfectly wound, long brown curls over her shoulder. “She’s the one I thought I’d end up with.” His words come out hushed, reverent. “We’ve been best friends since we were guppies, playing in the grottos and imagining what our lives would be like when we grew up. I always imagined her at my side.” He sighs, and I can’t decide if I want to comfort him or slap him. “I really thought one day, when I was finally brave enough to tell her how I felt, she’d open her eyes and realize she felt the same way. That she always had.” He fixes his gaze on his silvery lap. “And that eventually we’d get married, do good work at the Foundation, and live in our own beach house in Malibu in the Community near all our families where we’d raise kids of our own.” The thoughts spill out of him more quickly than his measured, careful words usually do. Once they’re out, he glances up at me again. “I thought we’d be happy.”

  I stare at his open, wistful face. Those were his goals? A lump forms in my throat. So simple. I thought we’d be happy. Happiness never even entered my equation. My father and I spoke of power, of splendor. We talked about rising to the highest point of Mer society and creating a grand legacy that would last millennia. I suppose I always assumed I’d be happy once we reached that pinnacle of achievement, but I never gave it much thought. It certainly was never an end in itself.

  I’m sure he expects me to say something, but all that meets him is my dumbstruck silence, so he continues. “That idea of my future is just so ingrained, you know? I know now it’s not going to happen, but it’s hard to let go of that picture of yourself.”

  My own image of my future self—sitting on the aquamarine-studded throne right over there, wearing a spiked, sparkling crown as I preside over an obedient court—shines blindingly bright in my mind’s eye, as it has so many times. It’s both so beautiful and so irrevocably out of reach. “Yeah, tell me about it,” I say. Then, a whisper, more to myself than to him, “It’s impossible to let go of that picture.”

  I must sound sadder than I intended because he nudges my fin with his. “Maybe not. Maybe it just means it’s time to imagine a new picture.”

  I thought we were talking about him. I shift against the plush fabric of the window seat. “Maybe for you.”

  “It hurts, though,” he says, staring out the open window behind us. “Letting go of the old one.”

  It really does.

  Chapter Nine

  Lia

  Still buzzing with the hope today has inspired and what that might mean for Clay and me, I won’t let anything dampen my mood.

  Not even the sight of her getting waaay too cozy with Caspian in that alcove.

  What could they possibly be talking about?

  Oh, I’m too pretty to be evil, I imagine her saying in high-pitched, mock-innocence. Forget all about how I stole a human’s free will and nearly killed someone. Don’t think about that. Watch me touch my chest and pull down my neckline instead.

  Then, in a deep baritone: I’m so eager to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, I’ll completely ignore the fact that you’re an attempted murderess who’s clearly trying to lure me into some scheme. After all, you had a hard childhood, like no one else ever. Here, let me escort you to the dessert table because I’m such a gentleman.

  They swim over to the fo
od and he hands her a plate, and I begrudge her every salmon puff. She shouldn’t be here.

  But I refuse to let anyone, least of all her, bring me down, not on such a joyous day. My parents sit atop their gleaming thrones, looking confident and happy—like they belong there. Like we’re at the beginning of something miraculous. For once, I really want to dance. With my go-to partner ocupado, I glance around the room. I don’t want to dance with some Merboy I don’t know, but who can I … perfect! I wave to MerMister Pelagios, my tutor now that I’m living in the palace, and he bounces his way over.

  “You did a lovely job today. The sight of those dolphins really tickled my tail.” Pelagios may look just shy of thirty now that the curse is broken, but he still talks like a kindly grandfather.

  “Thanks again for going over all the etiquette with me in class,” I say. “You were really patient. Can I take you up on that dance you mentioned?”

  “Of course. But I’m afraid you’ll need to be the one who’s patient with me. It’s been a long while since I’ve danced,” he says, offering his arm. Despite his words, soon we’re flapping our fins to a lively allyjull. “Can you believe I used to have arthritis?” He does a summersault in the water, his fat, teal tail tucked upward. I do the same, and he laughs as, in my enthusiasm, I accidentally send water careening against his face. “Someone’s happy.”

  “It’s a good day,” I say.

  “It is indeed.”

  The music slows down some and we settle into a rhythm. “So, did that shipment of konklilis come in yesterday?” Okay, okay, so I may have had a teensy ulterior motive when I asked MerMister Pelagios to dance, but there’s no law against enjoying a good groove while asking about potential new Merbooks to follow up on Project Mud for Clay. I can multitask, can’t I?

  He chuckles. “You’re relentless. Yes, yes, it came. I don’t know whether there’ll be anything in this one on ancient history, but you’re welcome to check.”

  MerMister Pelagios and the palace librarian both think I’m some big ancient history buff. The truth is, after everything I learned from Ondine, I figure my best chance of finding any reference to a spell strong enough to transform a human into a Mer is studying records of ancient times, when Mer magic was far less regulated, and powerful spells were more common. If I find—no, when, when I find—a spell to transform Clay, it’ll probably take ginormous amounts of magical energy.

  “Where did this shipment come from?” I ask as MerMister Pelagios gives me a spin, his long, red beard floating toward me on the current and tickling my chin until he throws it over his shoulder. Amy, who has just swum into the dance arena with Staskia, laughs and gives me a little wave.

  For a moment, I’m seized by nerves. Amy didn’t want to have “the conversation” with my parents or hers about her and Stas’s relationship until right before Em’s wedding, where she plans to take Stas as her official date. For most of our history, glei elskee, which translates to same-love, was totally accepted, but once the curse took away our immortality, killing off nearly everyone over the age of ninety, the majority of Mer died. The wars that followed decimated our remaining numbers, and any relationships that couldn’t result in population growth were considered not only selfish, but immoral. We’ve only had our immortality back for a little while, and attitudes like that don’t change overnight no matter how hard I wish they would.

  But one glance around the dance arena relaxes me. Plenty of girls dance with other girls and guys dance with other guys. Lapis and Lazuli are over to my left putting on a grand spectacle of twists and twirls that has the crowd oo-ing and ah-ing. The twins each drop one shoulder as they execute complex sideways dives in opposite directions, followed by a series of pirouettes and dips. When the crowd looks at Amy and Stas, everyone will just see two best friends, the way they always do. It’s not remotely good enough, but at least they won’t be harassed. I refocus on MerMister Pelagios, who’s answering my question.

  “I believe this shipment came from Adinia, near New Lyonesse. They have some fascinating dialects there, so Mr. Zayle might find a konklili or two to pique his interest.”

  “Or twelve,” I say, and he chuckles again.

  Having class with Caspian at the palace now that he lives right off the town square has certainly been keeping me on my toes. And MerMister Pelagios keeps both of us plenty challenged. He’s not mysterious or captivating the way Ondine was, and he doesn’t let me call him by his first name, but he’s a knowledgeable teacher who cares about his students’ interests, and hey, he’s not threatening to kill me if I don’t siren countless humans for him, so bonus. “I can’t believe we’re getting konklilis all the way from Adinia.”

  “Your parents did say they wanted to amass the largest research library in the Seven Seas and open it to the public to foster innovation now that we’re finally at peace. A grand plan.”

  Yeah, and one that couldn’t benefit me more. “I knew they were bringing in some konklilis from the Foundation, but I didn’t realize we’d get books from so far away. Do you think—”

  Someone gasps. Then someone else. The music peters out as, one by one, the musicians’ eyes widen, their hands falling away from their instruments. I follow their line of sight.

  There, right over the elegant mosaic in the middle of the dance arena, my little cousin kisses her girlfriend.

  It’s a pretty chaste kiss (after all, they are only fourteen), but the assembled Mer gape. The crowd stays frozen, unsure how to react, especially at such a formal gathering, where every move can affect a person’s reputation at court.

  As Amy and Staskia wade in the center of the now-silent room, holding hands and trying to keep their focus on each other as if the entire court isn’t staring at them, movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention. The crowd splits when my parents dismount their aquamarine thrones. Hand in hand, they swim toward Amy, my mother’s impossibly tall crown slicing through the water as she approaches.

  When they are right next to Amy and Stas, I swallow. My mother nods to my father, and he raises his palm. She places hers against it, and they begin to dance in the silent room. The musicians snap to their senses and reclaim their instruments. As the music starts up again, Aunt Rashell and Uncle Kai exchange surprised looks. Then Aunt Rashell loops her arm through Uncle Kai’s and throws Amy a wink over her shoulder as they take to the floor, dancing beside my parents. Amy, her eyes the size of sand dollars and her smile wider than I’ve ever seen it, takes that as her cue to dance with Staskia again, this time next to her parents.

  Looking from their king and queen to the pair of fierce warriors now spinning gracefully on either side of the young glei elskee couple, the assembled Mer follow suit, including MerMister Pelagios and me. A few grim-looking Mer excuse themselves, finding their way to the buffet table, but most go back to dancing as if nothing out of the ordinary happened at all.

  “I thought you were going to wait to tell your parents and mine until right before the wedding,” I say as soon as Amy and I have a second alone and I’ve released her from a hug that’s left her gasping. We wade in a small sitting room off the hallway to the throne room, but we don’t sit. This is not a sitting moment.

  “That was the plan,” she says once she’s caught her breath. “But, I don’t know, telling you and then Em and Leo and Caspian was enough already. I figure, mod elskee kids,” that’s Mermese for different-loving or straight, “never have to come out and tell their parents and the rest of the world what they feel, so why should I?” She shrugs. “Now they know.”

  Now everyone knows. When did Amy get so brave?

  And she’s right. Why should she be expected to announce it if she doesn’t feel the need to? She should just be able to be.

  Without comment, if that’s what she wants.

  So we don’t comment on it anymore. Well, I sneak in one more squeeze of her hand to show how proud I am of her, but that’s it.

  “How are you doing?” she asks. “I s
aw that … that she’s here. Did you know she was coming? Are you okay?”

  I don’t know how to answer that question. I can’t set eyes on Melusine without feeling ill, but I don’t want to bring Amy down. Not tonight. “I didn’t know, but I’m okay.”

  “You sure?”

  “Caspian gave her an invitation, so what am I supposed to do?” I can’t help some bitterness seeping into my voice. What, can you blame me?

  “I so don’t get that. He’s so smart usually.” Amy bats away a strand of hair floating in front of her face. “Want me to beat him up for you?”

  “I’ll think about it,” I say with a laugh. “I just wish he’d—”

  “Ah, I missed you,” a seductive voice says as the door on the other end of the sitting room opens.

  “I figured you’d be up to your gills in brat boys by now,” jokes a second, deeper voice.

  “Frat boys,” Lapis corrects him, swimming into the room with about 185 pounds of palace guard wrapped around her. “And no. They don’t do it for me. You on the other hand, have a talent for—Lia!”

  “He has a talent for Lia?” Amy asks, trying to suppress a smile.

  “Aims! You looked good out there.” Lapis raises a hand, and Amy high-fives it. “Now get out. Thanks.” She looks at the two of us and jerks her head in the direction of the ballroom.

  “Hi,” says the guard with a sheepish smile. I remember him from our detail during the trial and after, too, at the house. The one with the cleft in his chin. But I still can’t remember his name. Was it Brook?

  “Hey, Beck,” Amy says.

  Beck! I offer a quick wave.

  “Bye,” Lapis says.

  “You know, it’s our parents’ coronation ball,” I say.

  “I’ll close the door. Promise.” Lapis says.

  Amy and I share a look as we leave.