“No!” Nalia screams. She springs forward and almost gets her hands around Toraf’s neck before Triton Trackers move in front of him. She wrestles them with the sudden power of a predator. “You disgusting traitor! We trusted you. What have you done?”
Toraf rolls his eyes. He tells Jagen, “I cannot tell you how sick I am of that imposter. I can’t believe I almost helped them. I saw Paca’s Gift with my own eyes. I don’t know how I could have doubted your cause.”
Sheer delight spreads on Jagen’s face. He cocks his head back and laughs a toxic laugh. “You’ve done the right thing, Toraf. You are not as foolish as I thought.”
“No, I was. You give me too much credit, friend. But I can see now how they’ve tricked me.” Toraf turns to the Arena. “Just as they’ve tricked all of you for so long. They’re not worthy to rule. None of them. I will go and get the Half-Breed and prove to you just how untrustworthy they are. All of them know about her. Every last one. I challenge Prince Galen to deny it.”
Galen locks eyes with Toraf. How could he do this to me? How could he do this to Emma? Now everyone present knows of her existence. She won’t be safe anywhere, not with Jagen in control. Especially because Toraf, the best Tracker in Syrena history, has just vowed to find her and bring her here.
Which will be excessively easy, since he knows exactly where she is. She trusts him. Rachel trusts him. It will be so simple for him. And I have no way of warning her, of getting to her. All I can do is protect her when she gets here.
Tandel quiets the crowd, one of his primary duties as of late. When he has achieved control, he turns to Galen. “Your Highness, would you like to address these accusations against you?”
Galen swims to the center stone without taking his eyes off Toraf. “If something happens to her because of you,” he whispers to his one-time friend, his voice raw with hurt, “your death will be my priority.”
Toraf opens his mouth to say something, but Galen cuts him off to address the crowd. There is nothing Toraf can say to him that will make this right. There is nothing Toraf can say to him that will hurt him more. “I have nothing at all to say to these accusations.”
Tandel sighs. “Very well, Highness. Thank you.”
Galen swims to the Trackers who hold his sister. His sister who now sobs uncontrollably. “Come on, minnow,” he says. “He’s not worth your tears.”
“Yes, he is,” she wails. The Trackers release her to her brother. They’re distressed with the task of comforting a hysterical female.
Galen squeezes her to him, but won’t let her turn around and look at Toraf. “He isn’t. In time you’ll see that.”
“Why would he bring Emma here, Galen? Why would he do this to us?”
Galen swallows the vomit creeping its way into his throat. “I don’t know, minnow. I don’t know.”
Below, his fin throbs with pent-up tension. But it’s nothing compared to the sharp ache in his heart. The twins take their place with the rest of the Royals.
Jagen claims the center stone. He can barely contain his glee. “Friends, we were hoping to end our debate today, which has turned out to be the greatest tribunal in the history of our kind. For many seasons, the Royals have produced generation after generation of useless heirs, heirs who have not shown evidence of the Gifts left to us by our great generals. How long has it been since we’ve seen the Gift of Poseidon from this Royal line? Too many seasons, I think. And how long has it been since we’ve seen the Gift of Triton? Friends, we cannot even remember what the Gift of Triton is!”
Jagen clasps his hands behind his back. Leaving the center stone, he approaches the section of Loyals, shaking his head. “We have not seen the Gift because the Royals have strayed. Paca is proof that they have strayed at some point. How else could she possess the Gift? Friends, if I truly believed they were pure Royals, I would serve them faithfully, along with the law they’ve been representing. But Royals with diluted blood are of no use to us. We must find a new way to survive. We must elect a leader who cares about us more than the human world. Someone who is strong enough to lead even as the Gifts disappear from among us.”
He turns to Tandel. “I do not ask that we come to a decision today. All I ask is that we let young Toraf retrieve the Half-Breed abomination. Only when we have this final, solid proof of the betrayal of the Royals will we be able to make a united decision.”
The masses roar with approval.
Toraf bows to them one last time before leaving the Arena.
17
I PULL into the driveway of my house and cut the engine. I haven’t been here in days but it seems like years. I finagle with my key at the front door and all the smells of home smack me in the face.
I set my backpack on the counter and grab a bottled water from the fridge. It feels good to plop down on my own couch in the living room and stare out of my own bay window. Sure, Galen’s house has all the luxuries his fortune can buy. But home is full of luxuries money can’t buy. Like Grammy’s ugly crocheted blanket. Like the faint smell of Mom’s perfume.
Like privacy.
It’s been three days since Rayna ditched me. I’ve spent the bulk of those days with Rachel and it has been strangely awkward. She was furious when she found out what I did. I couldn’t even lie about it, because Paw and Don had gone on the local news to tell about their incredible mermaid story and the pale blond girl who showed up. So when I finally make it back to land, sopping wet and tired to the bone, Rachel is waiting for me with more attitude than a little woman like her should really possess. Along with the attitude, I sense a trace of guilt—maybe for not thinking things through. Because let’s face it, buying us jet skis wasn’t the most brilliant of ideas. Sure, I screwed up. But so did she.
When she was satisfied that I couldn’t be identified, she loosened up.
Until the coast guard showed up at Galen’s door, that is. They’d found my lost jet ski, but they were very sorry to inform her that it was not in running condition. After they left, she’d gone around the house throwing things, yelling how she hates when cops show up at her house and how they seem to show up all the time since Galen took an interest in me, and how she knew better than to register the damn thing with the state. After that fit, I felt weird being around her, mostly because after she apologized, she went way overboard in making it up to me.
Which is insane. After all, I did wreck her new jet ski and attracted the “cops” to her house. All of the things she said were true. But she’s having none of it. “You’re Galen’s sweetheart. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” She makes me breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She asks how my day went. She asks me what I want from the store. She does my laundry. She offers to give me pedicures. It’s too much. At least with Rayna here, she could divide her efforts between the two of us. Now I’m it.
A bolt of lightning strikes close somewhere on the beach. The weather channel has been calling for severe thunderstorms tonight. Looks like I made it right on time to excuse myself from going back to Galen’s for the evening. I call Rachel to let her know.
“You want me to come over? I don’t mind driving in it.”
“No, no,” I say a little too quickly. “That’s okay. I’ll be fine. You have a night to yourself.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ve had plenty of nights to myself.”
“Right. But, uh, my house isn’t as nice as Galen’s house. You probably won’t be comfortable here.”
“Psh. You know I can sleep anywhere.”
At this point I don’t know if Rachel is purposely dodging my hints, or if she genuinely doesn’t get it. “Actually, I’d like to be alone tonight. If that’s okay.”
Silence. Then, “Why? Anything I should know about?”
“Yeah. There’s no place like home.”
More silence. The kind of silence that suggests offense. If she is offended though, she keeps it to herself. “Well. Good night then.”
“Good night, Rachel.”
* * *
The power g
oes out about an hour later. The storm unfurling outside, minus the comforting hum of electricity in the house, plus the scary movie I’d been watching, equals my nerves rioting. We have a generator, but it’s in the garage and I wasn’t smart enough to keep a flashlight with me on the couch. Even if I was, I don’t actually know how to start the generator.
I stand and wrap the blanket around my shoulders, not because I’m cold but because, stupidly, I feel better protected against the unknown with an extra layer. Each time the lightning illuminates the room—which, thankfully, is often—I memorize the next few steps ahead of me before the dark takes over again. Making my way to the kitchen, I wait for the next lightning to flash so I can open the cabinet where Mom stores her heavy-duty flashlight. As I reach for it, the silhouette of a man’s shadow flashes like a black stain against the white cabinets.
I turn around and clutch the flashlight to my chest. What do I do? If I turn the flashlight on, the intruder will know exactly where I am. He’ll be able to follow the light right to me. But if I keep it off, I might miss my opportunity to see him.
I duck down and peer around the counter. Whoever was standing in the living room isn’t there anymore. Goose bumps spring up everywhere—he probably already saw me in the kitchen and is on his way to get me. I wait for a bolt of lightning, then another before I have the courage to crawl across the linoleum and into the hallway.
Which I immediately realize is a stupid move. If he were to appear in front or behind me, there’s nowhere to go. I back up, hoping I don’t bump into anything. Lightning illuminates the short distance back to the kitchen. My only chance is to make it to the garage. I have to be quick, because the door makes a god-awful noise and sometimes it sticks without shutting all the way. As soon as I open it, he’ll know where to find me. But it’s the only chance I get.
My hand closes around the knob.
His hand closes around my arm.
I turn around screaming, and slam the flashlight into his face, his neck, his shoulder, I’m not sure which. Suddenly my weapon is ripped from my hands. I hear it land a few feet away on the kitchen floor.
A flash of lightning shows that he is very big. Muscular. And he’s not wearing a shirt.
“Were you really crawling around on the floor?” Toraf says.
“Ugh!” I shove him back. “Is that your favorite thing to do? Scare me?”
He snickers. His outline moves toward the living room. “If you’re so scared you should lock the doors.”
I open my mouth and shut it a couple of times. I had forgotten to lock the door to the back deck but it doesn’t mean he has to go out of his way to scare the snot out of me. I follow him to the living room and slink to the couch. “What are you doing here? Where’s Galen?”
Nothing good ever follows silence like this.
“Emma, I need you to come with me to the Boundary. Right now.”
The dark hides his expression, but he sounds dead serious. I try to imagine Toraf dead serious and can’t. The Boundary? Galen had told me about the Boundary before. It’s where they hold the Syrena version of a court trial. It’s where people who are troublemakers go. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“A lot. I’m not sure how he’s done it, what he’s promised them, but Jagen has turned both the houses against the Royals. There are Trackers and Archives who have sworn that they don’t recognize your mother’s pulse. And now Jagen has accused the Royals of straying.”
“Straying?” I know what that means in human terms, but in Syrena lingo I have no idea.
“Of adultery. Maybe not these Royals, but he says that some Royals down the line somewhere had to have strayed because how else would Paca have the Gift of Poseidon?” He scoffs. “I can’t really believe this is happening. How could they believe a slimy eel like Jagen?”
Lightning hits close and I get a good look at Toraf. He’s as stressed out as he sounds. I let him talk, because it seems like he has more to say, and if not, he needs to vent. “The Royals can’t even leave the Boundary now because King Antonis—he’s your grandfather, did you know that?—tried to choke Jagen when he made up all these stupid accusations.”
He’s your grandfather. Technically, I did already know that. I already knew the story of Nalia and Grom, and that Antonis, her father and the Poseidon king, accused Grom of murdering her. But that was out of context. That was when these people were strangers. That was before Mom was Nalia. I have a grandfather. I have a king for a grandfather. A king fish.
I clear my throat. “So … This isn’t just about my mom’s identity. This is Jagen making his move to take over the kingdoms? And … you think he’s getting away with it?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“But I don’t understand. What could I do to stop him? I’m just a Half-Breed.”
“You can come with me and show them that you have the true Gift of Poseidon. That Nalia is your mother. It will prove her identity, that the Royals aren’t lying, and that they haven’t strayed.”
“Won’t it technically prove that they have strayed? I mean, you know how babies are born right? That means my mom and my dad—”
“I know how it works. And, uh, I don’t want to talk about it with you. And I’m pretty sure Galen doesn’t want me to, either. But I’m hoping Nalia can be forgiven for all of that, since she thought Grom was dead. But they don’t even believe she is Nalia.”
I nod, but the action is lost in the dark. Outside, the storm seems to be losing momentum. “Galen sent you to get me?”
The long silence gives me the answer. “He doesn’t know you’re here?” I ask, licking my lips.
“He knows,” Toraf says softly. “But he thinks I’m bringing you back to turn you over to Jagen.”
I swallow. “Are you?”
I see his outline jump up from his chair. “No! It’s unbelievable how everyone is so quick to accept I’d turn on them. Have I ever turned on them? Not once! You should have seen Galen’s face when I told Jagen I’d bring you back. If he could get to me, he would have killed me, I know it. And Rayna…” A small strangled sound escapes him. “Triton’s trident, Emma. You have to come with me and make this right. They can’t go to the Ice Caverns thinking I betrayed them.”
“I promised Galen I wouldn’t get in the water. Now you’re asking me to come with you and show all the Syrena I exist? He’ll freaking kill me. Mom will kill me. They’re both bent on keeping me a secret. They think it’s dangerous for me. Why don’t you think that?”
I feel Toraf’s weight register on the cushion beside me. Just then, the power kicks back on. The whole house seems to buzz. Toraf has tears in his eyes. Tears. He takes my hand in his. “I’m not going to tell you it’s not dangerous for you. It is. But if we don’t do something, the Royals will be sentenced to the Ice Caverns. You’ll never see Galen or your mother again. I’ll never see Rayna again.”
“But you’re mated to Rayna. Doesn’t that make you a Royal, too?”
“Not a true Royal, that’s not how it works. They’re only talking about purebloods. Paca will be exempt, too. If they’re sentenced to the Caverns, we’ll both be free to choose different mates. But I don’t want another mate, Emma. I want Rayna. I always have.”
Geez, the boy knows how to make my heart all melty. I bite my lip. “It’s that serious? Really?”
He nods. “I wouldn’t ask you to risk yourself if it weren’t. But I don’t see any other way out of it. The Royals give testimony, then one of Jagen’s Loyals gives testimony. It’s one word against the other, and the crowd is leaning toward the Loyals. I can hear what they’re whispering. It doesn’t help that Paca can prove that she has the Gift of Poseidon. There’s no one to refute it. They have more going for them than we do right now.”
“Galen told me that Paca uses hand signals to make dolphins do tricks, like they do at the Gulfarium. The Archives don’t think there’s something wrong with that? That she can’t talk to any other fish?”
“I think they’re confused. They haven’
t seen the Gifts in a long time and Jagen is taking advantage of that. He’s making them question what they know.”
I pull from his grasp and fold my hands in my lap. I can’t look at him right now. Not with the pain in his eyes and the emotion in his voice. I’ve never seen Toraf like this and I don’t like it. He’s always been a caricature of himself, the class clown. Now he’s risking Galen’s trust—and friendship—just by being here. And he’s asking me to risk it, too. Still, he would never hurt Rayna … Unless it was absolutely necessary. “But I promised Galen I wouldn’t get in the water.”
“We both know you already broke that promise, Emma.”
I gasp. But really, I’m not shocked. I was wondering if Toraf sensed me that day. And I was wondering if he told Galen. “It wasn’t my fault. I was on a jet ski and Goliath knocked me into the water. He was trying to play.”
“So you decided to invite Jasa to join you?”
“Who?”
“The Syrena fingerling you were with. I told you. I sense everything.”
Jasa. Her name is Jasa. “Is she okay?”
He nods. “Why wouldn’t she be?”
“Some fishermen caught her in their net. I helped her get away. She didn’t say anything?”
Of all things, Toraf grins. “No, probably because she wasn’t supposed to be off by herself. Telling everyone about you would be telling on herself.”
“So … Galen doesn’t know?” I’m not sure why I care. What Toraf is asking me to do is way worse than helping a young Syrena out of a fisherman’s net. He’s asking me to expose myself to the entire Syrena world. A Syrena world that thinks I’m an abomination deserving of death. Galen is going to be freaking thrilled.
“That’s between you and Galen. I think you should definitely tell him.” Toraf shrugs. “Eventually, anyway. But will you come with me now? Will you help me?”
It’s not lost on me that Toraf didn’t actually answer my question, but I can tell he’s not going to fess up either way. But telling Galen about my screwup is the least of my worries. We won’t even get the chance to fight about it if I don’t help Toraf.