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  “You gonna go find Stas?” I ask.

  “Yeah, we promised we’d dance with her parents. You coming in?”

  “In a minute.” I need some … not air … more water? Fresh water? Alone water.

  Seeing everyone coupled up is hard. What I wouldn’t give to share one dance out there with Clay. Not that he’d be able to breathe. Once Amy swims back through the double doors to the throne room, I head down the hallway in the opposite direction, my sights set on a small, empty balcony.

  As I approach the translucent amber doors, someone rounds the corner behind me, and I turn. My spine stiffens.

  Black hair snakes out around her head, and her slender coral tail flicks back and forth, back and forth. “Hello, princess,” she says in that syrupy voice that still sometimes haunts my nightmares. “Would you like me to bow?”

  “Save it,” I say, pushing out the words with as much resolve as I can. “Why are you sneaking around alone? What are you up to now?”

  She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “I was just leaving.”

  “Like I believe that.” My brown eyes lock onto her sapphire ones.

  “Believe whatever you like,” she says, drawing out the words and swimming closer. It takes everything in me not to back up like a fraidyshrimp. “It doesn’t change reality. You know, like the reality that a relationship between a Mermaid and a human she’s legally forbidden from seeing will never work out.” She’s whispering now, protecting my secret while also reminding me she knows it.

  Damn her. Why did she have to be there right after I restored Clay’s memories? I still don’t believe she was trying to help Caspian. Not for a second. She was up to something then, and she’s up to something now.

  “But go ahead and believe whatever you have to to feel like some special fairytale princess who gets a happily ever after.” She runs her gaze up to my golden crown and snorts, making me feel even more like some six-year-old playing dress up than I have all day. It’s not like it was my decision to wear this.

  My self-consciousness must find its way onto my face, because her red lips—lips stained the same shade as her silken siluess—curl up in victory. Every time I’ve seen her since the trial, she’s worn the lumpy, beige clothing issued by the Foundation and forgone any makeup. Fixating on these small changes in her appearance helped me remember that our positions had shifted. She was no longer the predator and I was no longer the prey.

  But tonight, she floats in front of me decked in finery. It might as well be last year; the only difference is the esslee draped around her torso, accentuating every curve. She’s probably only wearing it to elicit sympathy.

  Well, it won’t work on me, and neither will her power trip. She can’t treat me like some plaything anymore, and I need to remind us both of that. “You breathe a word about Clay to anyone and they’ll know you’ve seen him. That you’ve been on land. You’ll be imprisoned for your immortal life, just like your father.”

  “I’m well aware, thanks. Did you think I was keeping your little secret out of sisterhood?” A little giggle erupts from those red lips, and it’s menacing. “What would your sisters think, I wonder,” she glides closer still, the tips of her fins just grazing mine, “if they learned about the naughty things you’ve done?” Then, right in my ear, “I always said you were a bad girl, Lia. We’re just the only two who know it.”

  No. No, it’s not true.

  She slides past me. “It’s been so lovely catching up, but I really must be going.”

  “Good,” I retort. “Go back to your cell, where you belong.” I know it’s not strictly a cell, but I’ve been inside, and with its bare gray walls, it feels like one. She must think of it as a cell too because her eyes narrow. I’ve hit a nerve.

  Instead of heading down the hallway to the exit, she squares her shoulders toward me again. “Does it bother you?” she asks.

  “Does what bother me?”

  “Knowing that while you’re down here, I’m so much closer to Clay than you are.” She pouts in mock-contemplation. “Now that they think he doesn’t remember the Mer, are they still guarding him twenty-four hours a day? My guess is no.”

  Hearing her sickly sweet voice say Clay’s name makes me want to strangle her. “Wh-who are you kidding?” Stay calm, stay calm. “It’s not like you’re even allowed to set a scale on land without going to prison.”

  “Just because I’m not allowed, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t risk it. You’ve seen how much respect I have for following rules.”

  My anger rises at her veiled threat. “Stop it. Just stop it. There’s no way you’re going up there. You can’t even talk on land.” I grit my teeth to keep myself from screaming the words for everyone in the neighboring ballroom to hear.

  “There are plenty of things you can do without a voice.” The words drip innuendo. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ll set my sights Below. Who knows what I’ll get up to?” She smirks. “Caspian looked rather dashing tonight, don’t you think?” she says slowly, letting the question linger in the water between us.

  My blood turns to lava. “I told you, stay away from Caspian.”

  “Right. And how did that work out the last time you told me?” She shakes her head, the rubies that stud her hair catching the light. “I like Caspian.” Something swims in the depths of her blue eyes before they turn cold. She runs a hand from her throat down her chest and abdomen. “We always have … a lot to talk about.”

  That’s it. I can’t take it—can’t take her—anymore. “I wish your voice didn’t work underwater, either.”

  The cruel words pierce the space between us.

  Tides, did I just say that? Melusine fought so hard against those guards in the courtroom as they took her voice against her will. Even watching it happen was traumatic. I can’t imagine going through it. Guilt instantly fills my throat. “I … I didn’t mean—”

  “Oh yes you did.” She brings her hands together, starting a slow clap that echoes its way through the water, sending out ripples. “Brava. I knew you had it in you.”

  A rush of water and she’s next to me again, whispering against my ear, “And you think you’re not like me.”

  I take a deliberate stroke backward. “I’m nothing like you.” I’m not.

  A memory erupts in my mind of her father on the stand at the trial saying that committing sireny planted a seed of darkness within any Mer who did it. Darkness that could grow in me as easily as it grows in Melusine. I fight a shudder.

  That memory revisits me more often than I’d like. Was he telling the truth or lying just to get in my head? I may never know, but either way, I need to be careful. I’ve crossed lines before, and if I’m not vigilant with myself, I could slip across them again. I need to hold myself to a higher standard, every day.

  Melusine’s next words slither toward me. “I’ll let you in on a little secret: you’re no better than the rest of us, Lia. Some of us are just honest with ourselves.”

  She flips around and heads down the hallway, her black hair floating behind her.

  “Guard,” I say, flagging down one stationed at the end of the hallway. He comes over at once. “Please make sure Ms. Havelock finds her way out.”

  Once she’s gone, my insides deflate, but my hands are shaking. I can’t go back in the ballroom, not like this. I make my way out onto the balcony, gripping the railing until my hands turn white and willing myself not to be sick at my parents’ coronation ball.

  I replay Melusine’s words in my head. Replay my words. She cast the line, but I’m the one who bit the bait. Over and over.

  Why does she always bring out the worst in me? I suck a deep breath of oxygen-infused water in through my gills then let it out slowly. In and out, in and out, until I regain some shadow of calm. I stare out over the balcony’s ledge at the dark blue water stretched before me. Soon, she’ll be back at the Foundation, barred from going on land and far, far away from me, Caspian, and my family.

/>   Chapter Ten

  Melusine

  That was the most fun I’ve had in a very long time. The image of Lia’s face twisted with fear and rage entertains me on the long swim back.

  I left later than I would have liked, but it was worth it. I’ll still reach the Foundation in plenty of time to check in with my probation officer by sunrise, as ordered. I flip over, careening through the dark water on my back for a while to keep my muscles from tiring.

  “Ride, miss?” asks a passing Merman driving a large crab shell cart pulled by eels. I shake my head. After so much time cooped up in the Foundation and the Community tunnels to and from that horrid school, I relish the opportunity to stretch my fins.

  I turn right, behind a towering rock formation, to get away from the crowds so I can have peace to reflect on the evening’s events.

  My father will enjoy hearing that I took his advice and am putting my efforts behind building a friendship with Caspian. My mind flashes to the open, excited expression on Caspian’s face when he first saw I’d taken him up on his invitation. And the way he offered me his hand when he asked me to dance.

  I’d better not mention my conversation with Lia to my father, though. He’d lecture me to no end for continuing to stay on the new princess’s bad side, especially when he purposely worked to engender her goodwill by keeping quiet about her sireny when he took the stand in court.

  He’s right, of course. I know I shouldn’t antagonize her like that. It isn’t smart, but she’s so fake and annoying and self-important. It makes me want to rip her scales out. What can I say? She brings out the worst in me.

  I never intended to speak to her tonight. I knew she’d be busy following her family’s every command like an obedient little schooling fish and sucking up to the new royal court with that goody-goody act of hers, so I’d decided to avoid her entirely.

  But when I ran into her alone in that hallway … it was too delicious a moment to let slip through my fins. She’s still so afraid of me, even after everything. It pours off her skin in waves. And I feed off it.

  I never feel as powerful anymore as when Lia’s close by. With every flinch and timid little utterance, she serves me another bit of power. It makes her addictive.

  I dodge around some kelp stalks, ripping off a leaf and munching it as I go. Although I’d be stupid to breathe a word of our conversation to my father, I’m glad it happened. I have to enjoy her fear while it lasts. No matter how dense she is, it’s only a matter of time until she figures out it’s not me she’s afraid of.

  Blue light filters through the dark water as the Border comes into view. In minutes, I’ll be sequestered in that stifling Community again. With my short-lived freedom coming to an end, I bring my hands up to my chest and grab hold of the loops of my esslee, the pearls pressing against my palms. “Thanks for coming to the coronation with me, Mom.” Whispering to my mother is sentimental foolery. It’s not like she can hear me, and my father would rebuke me if he knew. But I do it anyway.

  Then, bringing my arms in front of me, I swim toward the Border and I—

  Scream.

  Dark, coarse fabric covers my head, and someone—multiple someones—grab my arms in bruising grips. I lash out with my tail until a needle pierces the side of my neck and ice chills my veins.

  My body falls limp.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lia

  It’s a bright, shiny new day. The first day of my parents’ reign and a better era for all Merkind.

  And I’m going to make it count.

  Aside from that brief incident in the hallway that I refuse to think any more about, yesterday was a swimming success. And best of all, I have the day off from classes and plan to spend every second of it exploring that new shipment of konklilis for a way to ensure my future with Clay.

  Go ahead and believe whatever you have to to feel like some special, fairytale princess who gets a happily ever after.

  Her melodic, malevolent voice fills my mind before I can banish it, echoing the doubts that have plagued me since Clay first asked me to make him Mer.

  I shake my head. Did yesterday teach me nothing? If ever the impossible were possible, it’s now. Time to say a quick hello to my parents and wish them luck today, then head to the library and get into full-on research mode.

  Like all the other new, magical dry rooms in the palace, my parents’ office has a wall outside with a row of golden hooks where sarongs hang at the ready for anyone who wants to enter, but I’ve come prepared: I’ve tied a wrap-around skirt above my tail. It clashes horribly with even my most casual siluess, but whatcha gonna do? Closing my eyes, I focus hard until two legs swim beneath me in place of my tail. If you’d have told me a year ago I’d be able to do that while fully submerged …

  With my legs in place, I grab hold of the two levers on either side of the entrance and bring my feet down onto the threshold so that I stand upright. At the doorway, the gentle flow of water shifts, growing stronger and splitting direction. It flows up, down, and to the sides as if the room in front of me doesn’t exist or were blocked by a giant rock face. Making a dry room takes a boatload of magic, so my parents and the council have selected each one with the utmost care. My parents need one for their office, since they have important paperwork from the upper levels of the Foundation they need to reference and it’s, well, paper. Caspian’s grandmother is the one who figured out how to do it; she based the spell on a potion used to keep wounds dry underwater. The new spell, combined with a system of drains and pipes, creates a few rooms in the palace where you can almost forget you’re underwater.

  Squaring my shoulders, I step forward on a rubber floor painted with a wave motif to disguise its practicality. My skin prickles all over as every water droplet on it evaporates at once, redirected to the flows of water outside by MerMatron Zayle’s magical shield. My hair puffs out at the loss of moisture, frizzing around me. I blink my eyes and lick my lips, both a little dry.

  When I open my eyes again, my parents are nowhere to be seen. Huh, odd. Even more unexpected, Caspian stands waiting in front of my parents’ desk.

  At the sight of him, I giggle.

  “What?” he asks.

  I switch to English, since we’re not underwater now—or, technically, we are but … Anyway, what I want to tell him doesn’t translate well. “You look like you’re in a punk rock band,” I say, gesturing to his blond hair, which, as a result of the drying spell, sticks straight up.

  “Punk rock?” he asks. Since Caspian’s parents are more traditionalist than mine, he never attended a human school and he hasn’t watched many human movies or TV shows, so some references swim over his head.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s a good look for you.” No, bad Lia. I’m not supposed to compliment Caspian’s appearance anymore, even when we’re joking around. Our friendship’s still recovering from me choosing Clay over him, and I don’t want to make it harder for him to move on, because he really needs to. “So, what are you doing in here?”

  “I’m not sure. A messenger stopped by my house and said your parents wanted to ask me something, but they’re not here yet.”

  “What would they need to ask you about this early in the morning?”

  He shrugs.

  “Your grandma did an amazing job in here.” I run my fingers along the edge of the bone-dry desk.

  His gaze roves the office, a touch of awe in his expression. “It’s pretty incredible, isn’t it? She’s transforming another research lab today.”

  “Wow.” I wonder if I’ll ever get used to the dry rooms. MerMatron Zayle and her helpers have even turned one of the ballrooms into a large dry space where Mer can practice their leg control. Since so many from Below have never tried walking but will need to be good at it to pursue opportunities on land, we’re setting up classes and practice hours for anyone interested. I’ve asked MerMatron Zayle to come up with a way to equip the rooms with Wi-Fi next, but I’m not holding my breath.r />
  “I’m glad we have a few minutes to ourselves, actually.” Caspian takes a step toward me. “I wanted to make sure you’re not mad at me about yesterday.”

  He doesn’t need to specify. “It would have been nice if you’d told me she was coming.” I don’t want to tell him how much seeing her still sends me into a nosedive. How she scares me, how she … makes me scared of myself.

  “I honestly didn’t know if she would. But I think it’s good she did.”

  “Uh, why-ya?” I ask, drawing the word out. I want to shake him.

  “Look, keeping someone you perceive as an enemy entirely isolated isn’t a good idea. Your parents, the council—they’re building a whole new society here. We all are. I think it’s smart if she feels like a part of that. Otherwise, how can we expect her to ever be rehabilitated?”

  “Rehabilitated?” Is he crazy? Breathe. “She can’t be rehabilitated. You can’t rehabilitate evil.”

  “She’s not evil.”

  I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow.

  “If she were evil,” he lowers his voice even though we’re alone, “why would she risk imprisonment and maybe even getting killed to help me escape from her own cousin and the sirens?”

  “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation again. I told you, because she’s up to something. Just because I can’t prove it doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

  “Lia, I don’t want to fight.” He puts both hands palm out in front of his bare chest. “I invited her because I thought it would be good for her. That’s all.”

  “I don’t know why you even care.” I let my head fall back and stare at the ceiling, where a series of barely noticeable vents work along with the spell.

  Caspian and I lapse into silence. I can’t stand it. “Whatever,” I say. “Last night’s over, and she’s gone now.” I’m not going to waste another second thinking about her. She’s the past, and today is the start of a whole new future.