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  Without anything to talk about, Caspian and I both look toward the entrance; now that we’re inside the room, the entranceway looks like a giant glass window with water rushing against it, almost as if we were in a car during a downpour. “Tell your grandma I think she’s pretty cool,” I say, attempting to resuscitate the conversation.

  “She’s still excited she pulled it off. Now she’s decided she wants to try adapting more potions into spells we could use as we reconstruct. She just proposed a new bill that would lift some of the regulations so she and others in the palace could experiment more freely with new spells based on older magic, but—oh, there they are.” Caspian bows as my parents transform and step into the room, pulling it off much faster than I did. Am I supposed to bow? That would be weird, right?

  “Aurelia, there you are. We’ve been looking everywhere,” my mother says, grabbing me up in an uncharacteristically urgent hug. My father places a hand on her shoulder as she releases me.

  “I came in as soon as I woke up to wish you a happy first day in … office? A happy first day in monarchy? You get it. You rule over a peaceful ocean! Hooray!”

  They share a look, tight-lipped and cringey-eyed.

  “Guys? Hooray?” I try again.

  “We received some news this morning just after sunrise, seashell,” my dad says.

  I glance at Casp. What’s going on?

  My mother clasps my hand between both of hers. “Yesterday, during the coronation, Filius Havelock escaped from prison.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Melusine

  Cold seeps into my skin, down deep to the bone. It draws my awareness before the pounding in my head or the all-too-familiar press of metal against my wrists and the base of my tail do. For a Mer to be this cold underwater, wherever I am must be freezing.

  I stay still as stone. If my captors lurk anywhere nearby, the last thing I want to do is alert them that I’ve woken. I need to assess my situation. What do I know? I’m underwater, I feel like I’ve been smashed under a shipwreck, and I’m freezing my frortik fins off. I take a shallow breath, still feigning unconsciousness.

  What else? No discernable smells reach my nose. I lie on my side on a smooth floor, meaning I’m inside a building, not outside on sand or rocks. A door shuts somewhere far away, heavy and metal. Make that a big building. Not a lot to go on.

  Who could have taken me? Some old enemy of my father’s? Possible; it would be a long list to choose from. Some psycho fanboy who listened to the news of my trial from some dark cave and got a bit too obsessed? Could be, but unlikely given the large building with institutional-sounding metal doors. Lia? Maybe she finally snapped and has dragged me down into the depths of the palace to punish me herself.

  But no, one captor strikes me as far more likely than any other. Someone who disappeared without a trace and could make me do the same.

  Ondine.

  If she survived and has learned that I’m the one responsible for revealing her plot against Lia to Caspian, and on top of that, that I lied to her students to try to free Caspian, she could want revenge. Or maybe she has some other plan for me. After all, she is the one who taught my father the siren song and planned to put me to use singing it—until the Tribunal took my voice above water and rendered me useless to her. If she’s found some other use for me—

  Another door clanks open and closed, this one much closer. If it is Ondine, what’s my best bet for survival? Play on her family loyalty, her maternal instincts, her … what else? Her obsession with preserving Mer secrecy for the greater good of our species? Her hatred of humans because of everything she’s endured? Good, good. I can work with all that.

  But when bruising hands grab me roughly by the arms and I finally open my eyes, it isn’t Ondine who drags me from the room.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lia

  The steaming mug of sugar kelp tea warms me from the inside out, but it doesn’t calm the fear gnawing at my stomach. I shift in the chair across from my parents’ desk, unable to get comfortable.

  “We still don’t know how he did it, Your Majesties,” says the head prison guard from the Foundation, who has just joined us, along with several of his officers. “He must have planned it for quite some time. The bubble surveillance went out—we have our experts working on it now—and he somehow managed to get through not only the wire netting but also the magical ward blocking the entrance to his cell.”

  I can’t believe this is happening. I sip my tea, little bit by little bit, letting it sear my tongue. I focus on the pain instead of on the terrifying news searing deeper into my consciousness with every word the head guard speaks.

  “What else do we know?” my father asks.

  “Not much, I’m afraid. I wasn’t there when it happened, and neither was most of my staff. He timed it masterfully. I’d relocated many of the other guards out of necessity, just for the day.”

  “For our coronation,” my father says, shaking his head. “I approved that order.”

  Sip, sip, sip. Running hot down my throat.

  “We needed all fins on deck at the travel checkpoints and on crowd control,” the guard says. “He still had three guards stationed at his cell. All of them were drugged unconscious and are currently in questioning, in case they remember anything. I beg your forgiveness for my grave error.”

  My mother’s lips press together. Then she says, “Our officers are spread too thin. We need greater numbers in the guard force, both Above and Below. We’ve known so for months.”

  “The bilriika,” the guard says, using the honorific term for warriors to refer to Aunt Rashell and Uncle Kai, “have enlisted many new recruits and are doing an excellent job of training them, but it’s too soon for them to be on active duty.”

  “What leads do we have on his current whereabouts?” my mother asks, voice strained with her need to exert control over the situation.

  The head guard looks at the ground before remembering himself and snapping back to attention. “None, Your Majesty. He could have all too easily slipped across the Border with the crowds traveling to the coronation.”

  “So, he could just as easily be anywhere in the ocean as he could be in hiding Above?” my father asks. The resignation in his voice tells me he already knows the answer.

  “I’m afraid so, Your Majesty. We’ve already conducted a thorough search of the palace—every corner—and are sweeping the city.”

  Sip, sip, sip. My cup runs dry. I clutch it between my palms, absorbing the last bit of heat before it grows cold.

  “Did he have help?” my mother asks.

  “We’re trying to ascertain that now.”

  “Melusine,” I offer, voice quiet.

  “What, seashell?”

  “Beg your pardon, Princess?”

  “Melusine,” I say again, louder. “She visits him regularly.” I snuck behind her and Ondine once through the Foundation tunnels, and they led me right to the prison. “I bet she knows the whole set-up by now.”

  Caspian speaks up from his chair next to mine for the first time. “That doesn’t prove anything. He’s her father; of course she visited him. He was awfully angry with her at the trial. For all we know, she’s in danger now.”

  My head turns and I stare at him. Just stare.

  The guard clears his throat. “She did visit him yesterday morning, merely a few hours before the escape.”

  “You see?” I say to Caspian. “And to think she came to the coronation afterwards. That’s probably why she showed up, as some kind of cover.”

  Caspian bites his lip, no doubt realizing that he was the one who provided her that cover the second he handed her the invitation stone.

  “Do we know where she is?” my mother asks.

  “I sent a Foundation retrieval team late last night, as soon as we found his empty cell. They apprehended her just past the Border and are questioning her as we speak.”

  “At least that’s something,
” my father says.

  “At least she’s safe,” Caspian whispers. Unbelievable.

  “Any other leads?” my mother asks, keeping her voice stern and emotionless.

  “Only one.” He gestures to an officer behind him, who steps forward holding a glass box that contains a single, crumpled piece of a red algae scroll. “We found it jammed in a crevice in the back wall of his cell. Looks like a note of some kind. We’ve sent for Ervin Zung to translate it, but he took a few days off from the Foundation to visit family down here for the coronation, so it could take a few hours to locate him. That’s why I requested Mr. Zayle be here.”

  “Me?” Caspian asks.

  “Why, yes,” my father says. “Good idea, Calder.” I don’t know who looks more relieved: the guard for finally having done something right or my father for finally having something positive to comment on. My dad shifts his focus back to Caspian. “You’ve translated ancient Mermese symbols before. Mr. Havelock’s, in fact. I remember you testifying about it at the trial. What do you say? Are you up for it?”

  “With Havelock at large,” my mother adds, “every moment that he could be getting farther away or putting someone in danger counts.”

  “I understand.” Caspian turns to the guard. “Let me see it.”

  No one speaks as Caspian reads. One of the officers gave him human-style latex gloves to wear. He holds the red algae in one hand and a pencil in the other as he hunches over my parents’ desk scribbling in a notebook.

  “I can’t make out all of this, not without consulting some supplementary texts.”

  “Whatever you can tell us while we’re waiting for Mr. Zung to arrive will be a great help,” my mother assures him.

  More silence. More reading. More scribbling.

  And every second, Mr. Havelock is out there. Somewhere.

  “Almost done,” Caspian says. “Oh!” Alarm rings through his voice, and everyone lurches forward.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “This is only a rough translation, but, um …” Caspian’s blue eyes peek up at us through hooded lids.

  “What is it?” I ask again.

  “It’s a letter. I don’t know to whom. Maybe a family member or close ally? The verbs don’t use the second-person formal conjugation. It seems unfinished, like maybe he had to stash it in a hurry.”

  “And what does it say?” my father asks with more patience in his tone than I could muster.

  Caspian clutches the algae scroll in his hand, looking between the intricate, ancient symbols etched there and his own notes, as if double-checking one last time. Then, his rich baritone laced with nerves, he gives his answer. “It says Mr. Havelock is planning a powerful ritual. And to cast it, he’s going to kidnap Lia.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Melusine

  “Tell me again.”

  I’ve said it three times already. I’d like to spit in her face. Instead, I straighten my posture as much as I can with two guards holding me by the arms. “I swam directly from my visit with my father to the security station in front of my room to inform them of my intent to travel to the coronation. Then I …” I list it all again, from changing my clothes and meeting with my probation officer, who told me to check back in with her office by sunrise, to leaving the coronation ball early so I could do precisely that. “The Border had just come into view when I was so politely and gently escorted here.”

  The Mermaid in front of me narrows her cold eyes. I’d better watch it. This isn’t the time to let my anger surface. It’s a time for tight emotional control, as my father would say, which would be easier if my head weren’t swimming. Why are they asking me all these questions? Something must have happened. Something big. Was there an attack at the coronation ball after I left? Was Caspian still there?

  What do you care? I ask myself. Focus on their questions. Whatever happened, they’re trying to implicate you. Wade carefully.

  At least now I know where we are. The illuminated blue-glass walls prove unmistakable. But I’ve never seen this room of the Foundation’s underwater stories before. What must be several hours ago now, the muscular guards on either side of me pulled me from the holding cell where I woke up and dragged me here, to this small office, to face this small, square-jawed woman with her sharp, shark-like eyes. My interrogator. The five rows of striped heliacus shells wound around her upper arm mean she’s high up—higher up than any other members of the guard force I’ve encountered. The thought sends fear as icy as her gaze shooting through me. I hate it.

  “You only gave notice you’d be attending the coronation yesterday, correct? Odd. What made you decide to attend so last minute? I would think you’d be out of place there.”

  “I wasn’t planning to go, but then Caspian Zayle came here to give me an invitation.”

  The corners of her mouth turn down as surprise registers. That’s right, bitch.

  “We’ll check the visitor logs,” she says, “and verify with Mr. Zayle.”

  So, he must be okay. Whatever happened to prompt this investigation, Caspian wasn’t harmed. A breath flutters out my gills. Then, because they might ask the guard who supervised my visit with my father, I add, “I was planning to turn down the invitation, but then during our visit afterwards, my father insisted I go.”

  She tries to keep her face unreadable, but her eyebrows creep up. “Your father instructed you to go to the coronation?”

  Is she deaf? I nod.

  “What did he say exactly?”

  I try to remember each word as accurately as I can; no doubt they’ll question him, too, so our answers need to match.

  Every detail I give prompts another strident inquiry, until finally she swims so close to me I can smell the tuna she ate for breakfast. Lunch? What time is it? “Miss Havelock, I am going to ask you a question, and I urge you to tell me the truth. May I first remind you that you are a convicted felon on probation who could at any time be imprisoned if I sense I do not have your complete cooperation?”

  I nod, fighting to keep my composure as one of the guard’s grips on my arm tightens to a vice in warning.

  “Has your father ever said or done anything on one of your visits that would suggest he was planning to escape?”

  Escape? Escape!

  “Miss Havelock?”

  It’s all I can do to stay upright in the guards’ hold. “He escaped?”

  She studies my reaction, assessing the authenticity of my shock. I should be calculating how wide to open my eyes, how far to lower my jaw, how hard to tremble my fins, so they believe my innocence. But all other thoughts cease as one unfathomable truth kicks me in the stomach: my father has left me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lia

  “Are you certain?” my mother asks Caspian. All eyes focus on me, as if by staring hard enough they can keep me from being kidnapped by the attempted murderer who has just escaped from prison.

  “Nothing will be certain until I cross-reference some of these symbols,” Caspian says, brow furrowed, “but he makes reference to, wait, let me get this right … ‘the foolish young girl who caused power to slip from my grasp.’ And he says he’ll”—he swallows, glancing at me with apprehension—“‘make her pay.’”

  My father’s fist slams onto the desk. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

  “Aurelia, there’s no need for you to be frightened,” my mother says. “The palace is by far the safest place you could be right now.” She turns to the head guard again. “Obviously, Havelock could have planted the letter, intending for us to find it after his escape, but it could just as likely be genuine, so we must take every precaution. I want all the guards that can be spared working here at the palace until we know more about Havelock’s whereabouts, with the most experienced guards assigned to the entrances and the family quarters.”

  “No.” It’s the first word I’ve spoken since Caspian read the letter.

  “No?” asks my father, cocking his head.
/>   “No,” I repeat. “You can’t station all the most experienced guards here. You need to send some of them—some of the most qualified—to protect Clay.”

  A furtive look passes between my parents. I purposely haven’t mentioned Clay’s name around them or my sisters since I returned from Sea Daughters Academy, so they’ll think I’m healing and moving on—instead of secretly searching for a spell to help him.

  Now, however, I kick that plan aside with both fins. Clay’s safety is way more important. That letter may say Mr. Havelock plans to kidnap me, and yes, those words make my throat constrict in panic, but there’s one person he has kidnapped. “Mr. Havelock went after Clay before. Now that he’s free, he could do it again.”

  My father nods. “Of course we’ll protect him.”

  “We’ll station plainclothes guards around his house,” my mother says. Then, to the head guard, “Make sure he and his mother don’t notice them, but have them take every precaution to ensure their safety.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Now,” I say. “Please.”

  At my mother’s nod, the head guard says to me, “Yes, Your Highness.” I’d be thrown off by the title if I wasn’t so intent on watching as he gestures to one of the guards behind him, who leaves at once to carry out the order.

  At least that’s something. But it’s not enough. Unlike everyone else in this room except Caspian, I know Clay remembers Merkind and every horrific thing Mr. Havelock and Melusine did to him. What’s more, Ondine revealed her plans about the memory spell to Mr. Havelock and Melusine during her visits to the prison, so he probably suspects Clay has his memories back, which means it’s likely he’ll use Clay to get to me. Clay needs to know the danger he’s in. With the threat of that letter hanging over my head, there’s no way I’ll be allowed to travel Above anytime soon. Maybe Caspian …