“Who did they take?” Grom asks.
“Jagen and a Triton Tracker, Musa. The council of Archives is requesting the help of the Gifts,” Antonis says solemnly. “They recognize now that they have been gravely mistaken to doubt the Royals.”
Galen scoffs. “It’s a little late, don’t you think? They were ready to throw us in the Ice Caverns two days ago.”
“Besides that, what can we do anyway?” Rayna says. “There are only three of us with Gifts. And our Gifts don’t work on land, remember? Humans have all sorts of stuff they could use on us.”
“That’s not true,” Grom says. “Remember the story of the generals? Triton sent the big waves to land. He destroyed humans with it, drowned them all on their own ground.”
“That was a long time ago,” Mom argues. “They were practically defenseless. Humans have much more advanced methods of protecting themselves now.”
“Not to mention, I’m not in a particular hurry to save Jagen,” Galen says. “I’d say he got exactly what he deserved.”
I’m thinking the same thing. I can’t help it. The guy stabbed me.
“It would be unfair to take that perspective, brother,” Grom tells him. “We are not doing it for Jagen. We are doing it for our kind.”
“We?” Rayna snaps. “What Gift do you have, Grom? Oh, that’s right. You and Nalia get to stay safely behind while me and Galen and Emma drown an entire island.”
Oh heck no. “Um, I’m not killing anyone,” I say, raising my hand. “Not humans, not Syrena.”
“It’s a good thing your Gift isn’t deadly then, isn’t it?” Rayna sneers. “I have an idea. You can give the humans their last meal. That would be special, wouldn’t it?”
“How would you like to go without eating for a while?” I shoot back. I could use my Gift to send the fish away from her, or I could just bust all her teeth out. Maturity seems to be evaporating into the air. I wonder if her Gift includes pushing all my buttons in rapid-point-five seconds. But then, I know her animosity is really toward Grom, not me. All I’m doing is feeding her anxiety.
Galen tucks a tendril of my hair behind my ear. It’s enough to distract me and he knows it. I give him a sour look for interfering, but he grins. “You don’t have to kill anyone, angelfish. In fact, we need your help to save them.” He seems to be telling me something with his eyes, but I’m not picking up on it. I’d love to blame it on the pain meds.
“Doesn’t that kind of miss the point?” Rayna says.
“Of course not,” Galen says. “Our objective is to rescue our kind, not kill the humans. We can do that without destroying them.”
Everyone is all ears, but Galen is not ready to divulge his plan just yet. He stands. “Highness, tell the Archives we will meet with them to discuss our terms.”
“Terms?” Grom says. “This isn’t negotiable, Galen. They need us. It’s our duty as Royals.”
Galen shrugs. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s entirely negotiable. And we’re not Royals anymore, not until I hear it from their lips.” He turns to Antonis. “And tell them that in view of recent events, the council must come here, on land. There is no reason for us to doubt that this is a trap to recapture us.”
Antonis chuckles. I get the feeling that this is all an amusing game to him. But then, old people have earned the right to be amused by everything. And I’m pretty sure he’s the oldest person I know.
“Young Prince Galen, I am at your service.” With that, my grandfather leaves. I turn away as he begins to finagle the shorts from his skinny waist on his way down the beach.
20
GALEN STANDS behind Rachel and Emma as they scroll down the screen of the laptop. “Toraf stuck his foot in the water. The Archive council will be here soon. Antonis is with them.” He’s met with silence, except for Rachel flipping the page of a notebook she has in front of her. Emma bites the end of a pencil as she watches Rachel scrawl on the page. Being ignored is not Galen’s favorite. “What are you doing?” he says.
Emma looks up. “Oh. Hey. We’re researching that island on the Internet. Might as well do some recon while we’re waiting, right?”
Brilliant. The Internet. Galen keeps forgetting that he’s not without his resources, either. The humans have their technology, but Galen has it, too. Plus, he’s got something better. Rachel.
“The island is called Kanton,” Rachel says. “Do you want the good news, or the bad news first?”
“Bad news,” Galen says.
“Everyone who lives on the island is either government employees, or the family of government employees.”
“Which government?” Emma asks.
Galen taps her on the shoulder and motions for her to let him sit. Pulling her into his lap, he peers around her hair to the screen, trying to ignore her scent and failing miserably at it.
“Some country called Kiribati,” Rachel says. “Never heard of it.”
“Me, either,” Emma says.
“What’s the good news?” Galen says.
“The good news is that there are only about a dozen people living there. Not a whole lot of technology going on here like we thought. Their job is to keep the surrounding waters protected from commercial fishing. But”—Galen hates it when she says “but”—“there is a functioning airport on the north side. They could have already flown your friends out of there.”
“Is there any way to find out if they did?” Galen says.
Rachel shrugs. “I think it’s safe to assume that if the discovery of mermaids—sorry, Syrena—isn’t all over the news by now, then probably they’re still there. If your friends are smart, they’ll stay in human form.”
“Why would they keep a big discovery like that under wraps?” Emma says, frowning. “It would be the biggest scientific finding in centuries. Maybe ever.”
“Like I said.” Rachel takes a sip of her wine. “Maybe they haven’t shown them what they are. Maybe they think they just rescued some dumb humans from drowning or something. That would be the best-case scenario.” She snorts. “Maybe they got arrested for commercial fishing.”
“Can you give us an advantage at all?” Emma asks Rachel. “Like, shut down their communications or something? Work your Rachel magic?”
Rachel shakes her head. “I can’t find much about this island as it is. I’m not sure what kind of communications they have, but I’m guessing satellite phones or something. What I can do though, is create a distraction at the closest airport to them, which is…” Her fingers move deftly over the keys. “Puka Puka Airport in the Cook Islands. If I make landing conditions unsafe there or screw around with their flight schedule, and say, the next five closest airports around them, they won’t be able to export your friends until we’ve had a chance to get to them. Better make the first attempt count though.”
Emma nods. “We will. And did you get the life jackets we talked about?”
“Life jackets?” Galen says. He doesn’t like Emma and Rachel making plans together. Not because he thinks they’re being devious, but because he doesn’t like feeling left out. Not to mention that when Emma is making plans without him, they’re usually reckless. The only reason she’d keep a secret from him is if she was doing something he didn’t approve of, or didn’t want him to interfere with. After all, her motto is “Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”
Galen despises that motto.
“I cleared out the sporting goods store this morning,” Rachel says. “I took what was on the shelf and made them cough up their stock in the back.”
Galen tenses up. Emma laughs. “Don’t be jealous, Highness. Rachel still loves you more than she loves me.”
“Aww! You guys are fighting over me?” Rachel says, pinching Galen’s cheek. “That’s so adorable.”
“I’m not jealous,” he says, trying not to sound pouty. “I just don’t know why we would need life jackets.”
“We don’t,” Emma says, wriggling around on his lap so she can face him. Secretly, he’s delighted. “B
ut humans do. And if my job is keeping the humans safe, then I should be prepared, right?”
But Galen is too distracted by the close proximity of her mouth to be bothered with the words coming out of it. She must recognize it, because she leans forward as if giving him a chance to make good on his craving. It’s all the invitation he needs.
He captures her mouth with his. Life jackets, islands, and airports are forgotten. The only thing that exists is her lips on his, her body pressed into his. Suddenly the creaky office chair is transformed into their own little world.
“Uh, I’m just going to get more wine,” Rachel says. He didn’t mean to make her uncomfortable enough to leave. Not good. The last thing we need is privacy and free rein to do as we please. He tries to end it, to pull away, but Emma won’t have it. And it’s difficult for him not to indulge her.
Her kiss is hungry, as if long deprived. As if they didn’t already spend the morning doing just exactly this, making up for the lost time they were apart. Triton’s trident, I could do this all day. Then he catches himself. No, I couldn’t. Not without wanting more. Which is why we need to stop.
Instead, he entwines his hands in her hair, and she teases his lips with her tongue, trying to get him to fully open his mouth to her. He gladly complies. Her fingers sneak their way under his shirt, up his stomach, sending a trail of fire to his chest.
He is about to lose his shirt altogether. Until Antonis’s voice booms from the doorway. “Extract yourself from Prince Galen, Emma,” he says. “You two are not mated. This behavior is inappropriate for any Syrena, let alone a Royal.”
Emma’s eyes go round as sand dollars. He can tell she’s not sure what to think about her grandfather telling her what to do. Or maybe she’s caught off guard that he called her a Royal. Either way, like most people, Emma decides to obey. Galen does, too. They stand up side by side, not daring to be close enough to touch. They behold King Antonis in a polka-dot bathrobe, and though he’s the one who looks silly, they are the ones who look shamed.
Galen feels like a fingerling again. “I apologize, Highness,” he says. It seems like all he does lately is apologize to the Poseidon king. “It was my fault.”
Antonis gives him a reproving look. “I like you, young prince. But you well know the law. Do not disappoint me, Galen. My granddaughter is deserving of a proper mating ceremony.”
Galen can’t meet his eyes. He’s right. I shouldn’t be flirting with temptation like this. With the Archives on their way—or possibly here already—there is a distant but small chance that he and Emma can still live within the confines of the law. That they can still live as mates under the Syrena tradition. And he almost just blew it. What if it had gone too far? Then his mating with Emma would forever be blemished by breaking the law. “It won’t happen again, Highness.” Not until we’re mated, anyway.
“Um. Did you just promise not to kiss me ever again?” Emma whispers.
“Can we talk about this later? The Archives are obviously here, angelfish.”
She’s on the verge of a fit, he can tell. “He’s just looking out for us,” Galen says quickly. “I agree, we need to respect the law—”
At this her fit subsides as if it was never there. She smiles wide at him. He can’t decide if it’s genuine, or if it’s the kind of smile she gives him when he’ll pay for something later. “Okay, Galen.”
“Galen, Emma,” Nalia calls from the dining room, saving him from making a fool of himself. “Everyone is here.”
Emma gives him a look that clearly says “We’re so not done with this conversation.” Then she turns and walks away. Galen takes a second to regain a little bit of composure—which kissing Emma tends to steal from him. Then there’s the mortification of being interrupted by— Get it together, idiot.
Galen uses the walk to the dining room to settle his nerves and stifle the anger building up inside him. The truth is, he doesn’t have much to say to the Archives. Not after what they allowed to take place in the Arena. Triton’s trident, they put the Royals on trial!
But as much as Galen would love to throw that in their faces, he won’t. This is his one chance, however small it is, to turn things around for him and Emma. And he’s not about to toss that chance to sea with both hands.
Rachel has pulled more chairs out to accommodate the gathering. The table they circle is shinier than Emma’s lip gloss. Unlike the human meetings Galen has attended with Rachel to sell his underwater finds, there is no paperwork on the table, no cups of coffee, no cell phones. Also unlike human meetings, most participants are either dressed in bathing suits or bathrobes. Leave it to Rachel’s creative hospitality. It is a sight Galen will never forget, seeing the elderly council of Archives sit uncomfortably in human chairs. If the situation weren’t so dire, he’d have to laugh. Especially since Tandel’s bathrobe has the human symbol of peace all over it in fluorescent colors.
“Thank you for coming,” Galen says. He takes his place next to Grom, who sits at the head of the table. Appropriately, Antonis sits at the head of the other end, accompanied by Rayna and Toraf. Emma is at Galen’s left side. He doesn’t need to look at her to know she’s scowling at him.
Grom begins. “King Antonis has been so kind as to give us your message and deliver ours. Many thanks to you, Highness.”
Antonis nods, bored.
“We would very much like to hear what you have to say to us,” Grom continues. “Have you elected someone to speak on behalf of the council?”
Tandel raises his hand. Galen is not surprised. “I have been elected, Majesty.”
Grom nods at him, and Tandel’s face changes from nervous to apologetic. “First, I would like to express on behalf of all of us here—and many who are not—that we are terribly sorry for the way the tribunal was handled.” When none of the Royals accept nor reject his offering of remorse, Tandel continues, less confident. “In fact, we regret that there was a tribunal at all. We had no right to question the actions of the Royals. It was shameful that we allowed Jagen to tickle our ears with such nonsense.”
“Nonsense?” Galen interrupts. He would like Tandel to be much more specific. After all, the more guilt that can be piled on the Archives’ heads, the better chance Galen has of getting what he wants.
Tandel nods. “The nonsense that a Common could have the Gift of Poseidon.” Galen does not miss his quick glance at Emma. “Paca has come forward and admitted her guilt in this conspiracy. It was just as you said, King Grom. She learned the hand signals from the humans while she was on land.”
“And what of Nalia?” Grom says, motioning to her on his other side. “What conclusion has the council reached regarding her?”
“There are still those who claim that they do not recognize her pulse, Highness. However,” Tandel adds quickly at Grom’s immediate scowl, “we must assume that since Jagen and Paca lied about so much, that some of their Loyals did as well, and continue to do so. It has come to the attention of the council that Jagen offered many positions of prominence in his new ‘kingdom’ arrangement. It is our belief that he intended to change our entire way of life.”
Grom folds his hands on the table. “And?”
“We are prepared to accept the blue-eyed Syrena as Nalia, the Poseidon heir. After all, we do have testimony from well-respected Trackers and Archives who insist she is who she says.”
“You well know that I only mated with Paca because I thought she had the Gift of Poseidon. What of that?”
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking, Highness.”
“I’m quite certain that you are quite certain of what I’m asking. You know I was promised to Nalia before the mine explosion. You know I mated with Paca under false pretenses. And you know that we have not consummated the bond.”
Tandel sighs. “Your mating with Paca is legal, Highness. We have no grounds for dissolving the union. The only grounds for dissolution is adultery.”
“Then why did you come here?” Rayna says. “You knew what we were go
ing to ask of you. Why else would we care if Nalia was the Poseidon heir or not? So she could float around all useless? She’s supposed to be with my brother. You have a lot of nerve—”
“That’s enough, Rayna,” Grom says. Before her feelings have time to get hurt, he adds, “Thank you for making those excellent points.” Galen has noticed that since Nalia is back, Grom has been more patient with Rayna. It occurs to Galen that maybe Rayna reminded his brother of Nalia so much that he kept her at a distance all this time. After all, they share much the same spirit of rebellion and adventure. The revelation makes Galen smile.
Grom turns his attention to Tandel expectantly.
“Is this what you ask in exchange for your help?” Tandel asks.
Grom is about to confirm that it is, but Galen stops him. “No,” he says forcefully. “That is only one of the things we’re asking.”
Grom’s eyes widen, but he allows Galen to speak. “You have not only broken the law by your treasonous tribunal. You’re breaking the law right now, sitting here in a structure made by human hands and clothes made for humans to wear. Tell me why you break the law right now.”
Tandel is getting flustered. “You yourself requested our presence here, Highness.”
“And you agreed. Why did you agree?”
“We came to address an issue that affects our kind.”
“So you overlooked the law to make this concession. For the greater good of all Syrena.”
Tandel nods reluctantly. “That is one way of putting it, Highness.”
Galen leans forward, folds his hands on the table carefully. He takes care to look into the eyes of each Archive. He takes care to let them know he is talking to each of them, and all of them as a council. “I will ask you to do it again.”
“I beg your pardon, Majesty?” Tandel says.
“I will ask you to break the law once again, for the greater good of all Syrena.” The words are out of his mouth but he can’t tell if they made their mark.
Especially because of the outbreak of gasps—not the least of which is from Grom. But Grom should have seen this coming. He was so quick to look out for his own desires, that he forgot what Galen wanted. The only thing Galen wanted. When things quiet down, Galen continues. “You have made the acquaintance of Emma, Half-Breed daughter of Nalia. All of you witnessed that she has the true Gift of Poseidon, that she is a direct descendant of the General himself. And you should know that I intend to take her as my mate.”