Of Neptune

  But he does it anyway.

  His transformation to Syrena form knocks Tyrden off his feet.

  25

  I WATCH as Reed impales the egg yolks on his plate, then whisks them into the grits with his fork. All the while, he holds his coffee cup level, ready to sip at all times. A true breakfast artist.

  “We don’t have time to eat.” I move the scrambled eggs around on my plate.

  The sheriff and his posse didn’t turn up anything last night with their search. Which means today—and every day until I find him—will be devoted to searching for Galen. No more playtime in Neptune.

  Especially now that Reder thinks I’m the Chosen One or whatever. But I don’t mention that to Reed. It’s not that I don’t want to help, that I don’t want Neptune and the underwater kingdoms to come to peaceful terms and coexist. It’s just that I don’t have any pull whatsoever in the territories. The confidence I felt in myself and in Reder’s cause has definitely faded since last night when we discussed everything over a comforting mug of hot chocolate. I mean, as far as usefulness goes, I’m as effective as cutting a rib eye with a plastic spork. What business do I have promising to help with this mess? I don’t even know where to begin.

  Maybe I just need more time to think about it. To contemplate what I’ll possibly say to my mother when I call her and tell her what I’ve really been doing. And that I’ve misplaced Galen in the process.

  Galen.

  Galen will know what to do about this. He might still be angry with me, but this involves the kingdoms. He’ll put off his grudge and handle this with Grom. Undo the damage I’ve done under pressure. Oh, the damage. With all eyes on me, I’d agreed to help Neptune negotiate peaceful terms with the underwater kingdoms by saying nothing at the Huddle. Then again in private, with Reder, I verbally agreed to help. I put it in actual words. I promised.

  But Reder put me on the spot. What was I supposed to do? Laugh in his face in front of the entire Huddle? Uh, no. Besides, he’s so irritatingly reasonable.

  “We’re wise to eat breakfast,” Reed says, shoveling his concoction into his mouth, all but oblivious to my internal plight. “Number one, we’re going to need our energy if we’re trekking around the woods all day. And two, it’s still too dark out. We’ve got another half hour before the woods will be light enough to see.”

  All good points. Still, I’m freaking out here. I need Galen back now more than ever. I’m about to tell Reed to hurry up, when Mr. Kennedy turns around in the booth behind Reed. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re heading out in the woods today, Reed,” he says, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

  Reed does a half turn in his seat. A few degrees less and the angle would have been rude. “That’s right, Mr. Kennedy.” What Reed doesn’t say is, What of it? But it’s all over his face. I fidget with my fork. I see that Reed’s patience has an expiration date. I suppose he could be irritated with the fact that we might actually find Galen today and that these could be the last few moments he has me to himself.

  “Well,” Mr. Kennedy says, obviously put out by Reed’s small but distinct attitude. “I feel obligated to share with you that I saw the most enormous bear—a black bear I think—but as you know, animals are not my expertise. I was washing up on the north bank of the river, and he was pawing the rocks on the south bank right before the beaver dam. And thank the stars for that! I may not look like much, but back in my day, I was on the varsity track team. I might have had a sporting chance then, but now…” He shudders. When Reed seems unimpressed, Mr. Kennedy continues. I lean in, trying to act intensely interested to make up for Reed’s lack of enthusiasm. “Of course, you were born and raised here. I suppose you would know if black bears pose a danger, but I thought it would be best to share instead of let you both go blindly without knowing.”

  Reed grins. “Letting us go blindly without knowing that there are black bears in the woods of Tennessee?” I kick Reed under the table. He ignores me.

  Mr. Kennedy purses his lips. “Right. Well. Of course, there are black bears. It’s just … Well, this one seemed rather large.” The embarrassed scientist turns sharply in his seat and resumes whatever it is that he’d neglected on our behalf. Half a second later, he’s standing, his check in his hand. I wait for the cashier at the front to check him out before I turn my ire on Reed.

  “He was just trying to help,” I hiss at Reed, who’s smothering a biscuit with white-peppered gravy. “And if the bear’s that big, it wouldn’t hurt anything to avoid the area where he saw it.”

  He shrugs. “There are bears all over the place,” he says, voice low. “And I have a feeling Mr. Kennedy doesn’t know what constitutes ‘big.’ But if it’ll make you feel better, we’ll stay away from the south side. It will just cut down on our search area.”

  Which isn’t what I want either.

  “I’m just saying the search will be complicated enough without running into—”

  “Emma, calm down. It’s fine. We won’t go south.” He gulps the last of his coffee. “Are you so antsy because of what you and Dad talked about last night?”

  “You think?”

  Reed smiles. “Look, he wasn’t asking you to stop the sun from rising. He was just hoping that since you were accepted among the ocean dwellers, maybe you could open the door to all of us being accepted. One day. Not like, tomorrow, or like next Tuesday or anything.”

  My mouth drops open. “You knew he was going to do that last night. Make it about me helping everyone. How long have you known?”

  Reed grimaces with appropriate guilt. “Since the night you and Galen had dinner with us. My parents were so excited after you left.”

  “That could be because they were happy to get Galen out of their house.”

  “That, too,” Reed admits. “He’s a horrible liar, by the way. They knew right away he was a Triton Royal. And if a Triton Royal is hanging out on land with a Half-Breed, something had to have changed. Emma, you changed them somehow.”

  I shake my head. “You’re giving me too much credit. The Archives … They needed me, is all. It was all about the timing and circumstances, I guess.” Really, they needed Galen and Rayna’s Gift to help rescue some captured Syrena from humans—and my acceptance among them came as a package deal they couldn’t refuse. Oh, the Archives didn’t need me by any means.

  But I’m not about to tell that to Reed. First of all, I feel a bit waylaid that he kept this big Emma’s-Our-Savior thing from me. His eyes look like big balloons filled tight with hope right now. And don’t I know what it feels like to cling to something as fickle as hope?

  Reed crunches his napkin in his fist, then dumps it on the empty plate in front of him. “Then explain why your grandfather sent you here.”

  Why does this question keep surprising me? I should really find a default answer to it. “So that I could find a place to fit in,” I blurt. “So I know I’m not alone.”

  Reed makes a show of looking around. “Maybe he sent you here to find me. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Yes. No. Not exactly.” I swirl the orange juice in my glass until it makes a miniature whirlpool. “Not you, as a person. But I think he wanted to give me another option.”

  “Option? Instead of Galen, you mean?”

  Okay, this is sounding really bad. What’s worse, Galen might have thought the same thing when we arrived in Neptune. That could be one reason he was instantly on guard. “I mean an optional way of life. Instead of being an outcast in the Syrena world and a weirdo in the human world.”

  Reed isn’t convinced. “I don’t think so. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m sure that was definitely part of sending you here. But Antonis met my dad all those years ago when he came looking for your mother. Dad told you that, right? They were friends. They’ve kept in touch, in fact. Every couple of years or so. If I had to guess, I’d say this is some small part of their bigger plan to unite all of our kind, not just the ones who shape fins. Have you checked in with your mom s
ince a few days ago, by the way?”

  I shrug. I had called, but she hadn’t answered, which probably means she’s still back in Triton territory. Hopefully, she’ll check in soon. Then again, I hope she doesn’t. Because Reder will expect me to talk to her about all this. He made that clear. And I don’t know how to pitch it to her yet.

  Also, I’m going to kill Grandfather.

  “You should invite her to come. And your grandfather. I know Dad would love to see him again.”

  Now I’m the one brimming with hope. “It’s just that Mom’s mate, Grom, he would never agree to come.” Even Galen had said as much before he left.

  “Who says he’s invited? He’s only the Triton king, right?” Reed grins. Then his face gets all serious and coddle-y. “One step at a time, okay? Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

  One step at a time. Why not? That was our plan for me easing into Syrena society after I became Galen’s mate. If I become Galen’s mate … “We should go now. The sun is out.”

  “Just think about it, Emma. It’s not like you have to demand a Tribunal in ten minutes. Just start thinking about ways we can connect with the ocean dwellers. How we can show them that we’re not demons or something.”

  I turn my nose up. “Why should you have to show them anything? What’s wrong with what you have here? You’re all doing great without them.” I sound angrier than I’d intended, which I immediately regret, but it’s the truth. To me, Neptune gets the best of both worlds. Why fix something that isn’t broken? To me, belittling the potential of Neptune sounds more like cudgeling something pristine and priceless.

  Then again, I know what it’s like to want something you can’t have. And I have to look at it from Neptune’s perspective: The oceans are something they view as their rightful inheritance. It’s not about what the oceans have that Neptune doesn’t. It’s about Neptune having a share in what is justly theirs.

  The waitress sets our bill in front of Reed. I go to grab it, but his hand is over mine in turbo-point-three seconds. “I’ve never been in the ocean, Emma,” he says without removing his hand from mine. “I want to know what the saltwater feels like. I want to see all the colors of the fish outside an aquarium. I want to be BFFs with a whale named Goliath. Wherever you go, I want to be able to go, too.”

  “Reed—”

  “Look, I’m not saying it’s because of you. I’ve always wanted to see the ocean, see what it has to offer. But now that I know what it has to offer…” He squeezes my hand. “I want it so badly I can taste it. Look at what I’m missing out on.” His eyes burn into mine, and I can’t look away.

  “But I’m not from the ocean,” I say softly. Too softly.

  “But you will be. If you mate with Galen. He’ll find some way to steal you away.”

  The words reverberate through me. I can’t let Reed know that Galen already suggested that very thing. He’d use it against me, in favor of himself, in favor of Neptune. And is that so wrong? Shouldn’t I have options? Obviously Grandfather thought so. What if I’m selling myself short by making a decision so early?

  Then I think of Galen, the way his lips feel against mine, the way his smile sends my stomach into a tumult more substantial than the innocent flutter of mere butterflies. The way his body fits around mine like a missing part and the way his laugh swarms through me like an intoxicating drink.

  I am not selling myself short with Galen.

  But when I said yes to Galen, I said no to all other options. Before I even knew what those options were. I would be a fool not to admit that right now I’m sitting in front of another option. Not just a good-looking guy who just happens to be consuming the space between us with those big violet eyes, that intense gaze.

  This option comes with acceptance, others of my kind, a life on land and in the water. As far as I can tell, this option comes without baggage. Like, for instance, without wearing an invisible scarlet letter every time I visit the underwater kingdoms with Galen.

  But I would be losing Galen.

  Reed sighs. I’m obviously not making major life decisions fast enough for him. He pulls out a twenty and leaves it on the table for the bill. “Let’s go, beautiful. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

  And so we go.

  26

  THE FORCE of shaping his fin sends Galen flying backward. Beneath him, he hears metal scrape against the floor, the crash twisting his wrist until he cries out. A sharp snap coincides with pain in his fingers.

  Tyrden is still sprawled on the floor. When he sees Galen, he gives off a howl of indignation. His eyes hold a certain disbelief as he takes in the sight before him.

  Galen doesn’t have time to be self-conscious about his big fin. With one eye, he watches Tyrden floundering on his stomach, grasping for his knife. With the other, he frantically tries to untie his right hand. Just as before, the knot doesn’t give; he has no idea how Tyrden untied his left hand so quickly. He struggles to bend the rest of the chair, ignoring the pain in his fin where the ropes from his feet had constricted as his fin took shape. He may be limping out of here, at best. With that thought in mind, he punches the metal frame of the chair, willing it to break. With some luck, he might even be able to sever off a piece of chair sharp enough to cut the rope.

  Tyrden pulls himself off the floor with a grunt. He approaches cautiously, knife in the ready position. Galen waits until he’s within reach, then swipes his fin across the floor. The Syrena expects it this time and jumps, landing steadily on his feet. Beyond enraged, he breaks into a rabid run.

  Galen abandons his efforts with the chair and flips over, slicing his fin through the air again, lifting it almost to the ceiling. Tyrden can’t outjump this. The powerful stroke sends Tyrden against the wall with a loud crack. He falls to the floor in a thud, his knife several feet away. Taking advantage of Tyrden’s disorientation, Galen pulls himself toward it on his elbows, dragging the warped metal chair with him.

  Get the knife, get the knife, get the knife.

  Tyrden doesn’t recover as quickly this time, but the sight of Galen heading toward the blade seems to bring him to his senses. He shakes his head as if relieving it of dust.

  Almost there. He grabs at the knife just as Tyrden kicks it across the room. Galen is forced to roll away as Tyrden brings his boot down hard on the floor, just missing Galen’s head. Galen grabs the metal chair and uses it as a shield as Tyrden rears back for another kick. The clash reverberates off the walls; Tyrden is jolted backward, giving Galen a slight reprieve from another attack.

  He turns his attention toward the knife again, shielding his back with the metal chair, dragging himself across the room as before. Galen debates whether or not to change back into human form, but with the rope injury to his fin he’s not sure what his human legs will be capable of. Damage to the fin doesn’t necessarily mean damage to his legs—or, at least, not both of them. Still, right now he needs the power and range of motion the Gift of Triton gives him.

  Just as Galen reaches the knife again, Tyrden kicks the chair from his back, sending his right arm flying into an angry position. Even so, Galen’s left hand closes around the grip of the knife, and he lifts the blade in front of him just as the crazed Syrena is ready to pounce.

  Tyrden stops immediately. Galen uses his hesitation to jerk the chair back to him, making quick work of the rope with the knife. While Tyrden is distracted by the blade in his hand, Galen sweeps his fin across the floor. His tail connects painfully with Tyrden’s hard boots, lifting the older Syrena off his feet and onto his back. His head slams against the floor in a sickening thump.

  Galen lets out a grunt of agony. His tail is definitely twisted or bent or both. For several intense moments, he waits for his captor to get up. With a sense of dread, he watches the steady rise and fall of Tyrden’s chest for longer than he should. He can’t help but be cautious. This could be another mind game.

  Galen makes the snap decision to change to human form. Keeping an eye on Tyrden, he tests his balance on each
leg. His left ankle throbs with a deep ache but can still hold his weight. Everything else is in working order.

  Picking up what’s left of his jeans, Galen takes the longest piece and wraps it around his waist, trying to at least cover up. He uses the pads of his feet to tread quietly toward where Tyrden lies.

  Galen squats down slowly, alert for any sudden movements. He places the tip of the blade on Tyrden’s chest, where his heart beats the strongest. The Syrena does nothing. Galen rears back and slaps the unconscious Syrena across the face.

  Tyrden doesn’t wake up.

  27

  WE CRASH through the woods in a sort of irreverent way. It’s as if Reed is taking care to disturb every plant and animal in our wake. Which I suppose is good if we’re looking for someone who needs our help.

  And bad if we’re looking to avoid bears.

  “We don’t want to sneak up on anybody,” he says, as if reading my mind. “Not a bear, not someone who doesn’t want to be found.” I didn’t think of it like that.

  By now I’m out of breath and a bit irritated at our speed, which I know is unreasonable because it helps us cover as much ground as possible. “He wants to be found,” I blurt.

  Without warning, Reed stops and faces me. “I don’t buy that. Not if he’s in these woods, Emma. If he’s here, if he’s been this close all along, then he doesn’t want to be found.” He takes a step closer to me. “And if he doesn’t want to be found, then what?” He pulls me to him. “But here I am, Emma. Here I am not hiding from you, not running away, not pitching fits.”

  It’s then I realize that Reed isn’t stomping around for the heck of it, and not even because he doesn’t want to surprise a sleeping cheetah or whatever. He’s trampling his way through the forest like a human machete because he’s mad. Not mad exactly, not with the torment in his eyes.

  He’s frustrated. And he’s taking it out on nature.