Of Poseidon (17 page)

13

WHEN MY feet touch bottom, Galen releases me. I tiptoe toward shore, jumping with the waves like a toddler. Reaching the beach, I deposit myself in the sand just far enough in for the tide to tickle my feet. “Aren’t you coming in?” I call to him.

“I need you to throw me my shorts,” he says, pointing behind me.

“Oh.
Oh.
You’re naked?” I squeak, bordering on dolphin pitch.

Of course, I should have realized that fi ns don’t come with a cubby for carry- on luggage, and most Syrena wouldn’t have a need to stash something like swimming shorts. It doesn’t matter much when he’s in fi sh form, but seeing Galen— no,
thinking about
Galen— naked in human form would be detrimental to my plan to use him. Could be my undoing.

“Guess that means you can’t see into the water yet,” he

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says. When I shake my head, he says, “I took them off before you

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came out this morning. I’d prefer not to ruin them if I don’t have to.”

Clearing my throat, I hoist myself up and trudge through the sand, fi nding them a few feet away. I toss them to him and take my seat again, in case my vision suddenly gives me an unhealthy view of the briny deep. Thankfully, he keeps everything submerged as he makes his way to the fl oating trunks and pulls them on. Tying them as he walks ashore, he kicks water on me before sitting beside me.

“Why can’t I change, Galen?” I draw my knees to my chest.

He leans back on his elbows and stares out to sea, as if deciding on how to answer. We’ve been out here all day, and I haven’t felt so much as an itch in my legs, let alone the twisting sensation he’d promised. “I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe you’re too self- conscious about it. Maybe if you could relax, it would just happen.”

“Is that how it happens for you? Like, Accidentally?”

“No, it’s never an accident. What I mean is, if you’d stop watching for it and just try to have a good time, maybe it will come to you how to change.”

“I’m having a good time,” I say without looking at him.

“I am, too.”

“At least tomorrow is Friday. We’ll have the whole weekend to practice. Plus, we can practice after school tomorrow— oh, I guess you wouldn’t need to come to school anymore,” I say. “You already accomplished your purpose for going, right?” I ignore the

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tiny pang in my gut.

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“Actually, I was going to keep at it for a while. Your mom

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probably wouldn’t be too happy if you’re dating someone who quit school.”

I laugh. “Nope, don’t think so. But I do think she likes you.”

“Why do you say that?” he says, cocking his head at me.

“When I called her, she told me to tell you good morning.

And then she told me you were ‘a keeper.’ ” She also said he was hot, which is a ten and a half on the creep- o-meter.

“She won’t think that when I start failing out of all my classes. I’ve missed too much school to give a convincing per formance in that aspect.”

“Maybe you and I could do an exchange,” I say, cringing at how many diff erent ways that could sound.

“You mean besides swapping spit?”

I’m hyperaware of the tickle in my stomach, but I say,

“Gross! Did Rachel teach you that?”

He nods, still grinning. “I laughed for days.”

“
Anyway,
since you’re helping me try to change, I could help you with your schoolwork. You know, tutor you. We’re in all the same classes together, and I could really use the volunteer hours for my college applications.”

His smile disappears as if I had slapped him. “Galen, is something wrong?”

He unclenches his jaw. “No.”

“It was just a suggestion. I don’t have to tutor you. I mean, we’ll already be spending all day together in school and then practicing at night. You’ll probably get sick of me.” I toss in a soft laugh to keep it chit- chatty, but my innards feel as though

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they’re cartwheeling.

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“Not likely.”

Our eyes lock. Searching his expression, my breath catches as the setting sun makes his hair shine almost purple. But it’s the way each dying ray draws out silver fl ecks in his eyes that makes me look away— and accidentally glance at his mouth.

He leans in. I raise my chin, meeting his gaze. The sunset probably deepens the heat on my cheeks to a strawberry red, but he might not notice since he can’t seem to decide if he wants to look at my eyes or my mouth. I can smell the salt on his skin, feel the warmth of his breath. He’s so close, the wind wafts the same strand of my hair onto both our cheeks.

So when he eases away, it’s me who feels slapped. He uproots the hand he buried in the sand beside me. “It’s getting dark. I should take you home,” he says. “We can do this again— I mean, we can
practice
again— tomorrow after school.” I pull my hair to one side, shielding my disappointment from him. “Sure.” So much for using
him.

“Actually, you can’t go to school tomorrow, minnow.” We both look up at Toraf and Rayna walking toward us on the beach. Plodding through the sand jostles the armful of human junk Rayna carries, but the satisfi ed smile spread across her face hints she wishes she could carry more.

“Why can’t he?” I say.

“Because he needs to check in with his family. Everyone is wondering where the royal twins are, since they happened to miss Grom’s kingship ceremony. At least I had the good sense to

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hold a private mating ceremony— in view of Rayna’s absence 0—

and all.”

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Galen scowls. “He’s right. We need to go home for a few days. Our father isn’t as protective as your mother, but he likes to see us once in a while. Especially Rayna. She’s spoiled.” Rayna nods. “It’s true. I am. Besides, I need to get our mating-seal overturned.”

“Aw, princess, I thought we had a good time today. You know I’ll make sure you’re still spoiled. Why would you want to unseal us?” Toraf says. She lets him take some of her load but turns up her nose at his attempt to kiss her cheek.

Galen ignores their marriage meltdown. Looking at me, he says, “It won’t take long, I promise. When I get back, maybe we could visit Dr. Milligan. He might be able to help us.”

“In Florida?” The idea of sunny white beaches makes me nauseous. In my dreams, they’re always stained red with Chloe’s blood.

Galen nods. “He could run a few tests. You know, see if we’re missing something.”

A feeling of failure waylays me. “So, you think I should have changed already. What am I doing wrong?”

“It’s nothing you’re doing,” he says. “Water triggers our natural instinct to change. It takes more eff ort
not
to change than it does
to
change. Maybe Dr. Milligan can help us fi gure out how to make your instinct stronger.”

I nod. “Maybe. But I’m pretty sure Mom won’t consent to a fi eld trip across the country with my hot boyfriend. Especially not back to Florida.” I clamp my mouth shut so fast my teeth should be chipped.

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He grins. “You think I’m hot?”

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“My mom thinks you are.” Except, Mom’s not the one blushing right now.

“Hmm,” he says, giving me a you’re- busted look. “As hot as I am, I don’t think she’d buy into my charm on this one.

We’ll have to call in a professional.” Then that fi sh prince actually winks at me.

“You mean Rachel,” I say, toeing the sand. “I guess it’s worth a shot. Don’t expect much, though. I’ve already missed too much school.”

“We could fl y down on the weekend. Be back before school on Monday.”

I nod. “She might go for that. If Rachel plays her cards right.” Yeah, she might go for that. She might also pierce her tongue, dye her hair cherry red and spike it peacock- style.
Ain’t happening.

I shrug. “I’ll just keep practicing while you’re gone. Maybe we don’t have to go—”

“No!” Galen and Toraf shout, startling me.

“Why not? I won’t go too deep—”

“Out of the question,” Galen says, standing. “You will not get in the water while I’m gone.”

I stomp a hole in the sand. “I already told you that you’re not ordering me around, didn’t I? Now you’ve pretty much
guaranteed
that I’m getting in the water, Your Highness.” Galen runs a hand through his hair and utters a string of cuss words, courtesy of Rachel, no doubt. He paces in the sand a few seconds, pinching the bridge of his nose. Suddenly he stops.

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Relaxes. Smiles even. He walks over to his friend, slaps him on 0—

the back. “Toraf, I need a favor.”

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14

GALEN KNOWS where to fi nd his brother. Intruding on Grom’s solitude in the remnant of the human mines is the last thing he wants to do, but he’s pressed for time. Emma’s specialty is not obedience. Toraf ’s specialty is not supervision— he’ll cave to her will at the fi rst sign of a tantrum. He already pointed out to Galen that technically she’ll be their queen one day, so he wants to stay on good terms with her. And it took a royal Order to get Toraf to stay behind, unable to plead his case to Grom when Rayna demands the dissolution of their seal. As he approaches the edge of the old minefi eld, Galen resolves to speak on Toraf ’s behalf. Rayna will be furious— and so will Emma, for that matter— but he owes his friend that much.

The mines make him ner vous, always have. Fish and plants have long abandoned this part of the Triton territory. In fact, as

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far as Galen knows, Grom is the only visitor this place hosts.

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Holes big enough to swallow a fi shing boat pock the seafl oor from the blasts. The mud around each pit is stained a darker color, as if the explosion left its shadow behind. Just two of the hundreds of bombs remain intact, defective and impotent, as if a silent monument to what was lost here. And with Nalia’s death, the Syrena lost more than a future queen. They lost unity. They lost trust. They lost legacy. And they might have lost their ability to survive.

Galen shudders as he passes one of the decrepit bombs. Anchored to the fl oor by a chain, the metal ball fl oats undisturbed, consumed by rust, left behind by the humans after they fi nished investigating the sudden activity. As if the scars in the mud weren’t enough.

When he sees his brother, he calls out to him, though he knows Grom sensed him before he entered the minefi eld. Grom hovers on the precipice of the deep canyon beyond the mines, arms crossed. “It seems I’ve missed your kingship ceremony, Your Majesty,” Galen says.

The corner of Grom’s mouth curves into an almost- grin.

“Pity Father didn’t make good on his promise to remove your tongue, little brother. I thought he might do it this time.” Galen laughs. “I did, too. But Rayna insisted I keep my tongue for just a little while longer.”

“You’d do well to keep that one happy. If it weren’t for her, you’d be dead, disinherited, or both by now. I think she deserves a special trip to the tropics for her eff orts.”

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Galen chuckles. Rayna’s favorite place to scavenge for human 0—

rubble is along the commercial cruise routes in the Gulf of

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Mexico. She insists people on the ships intentionally throw their belongings overboard, to leave a small part of themselves behind.

At least that’s what Rachel told her. “I just might. If she stays mated to Toraf.”

Grom whips his head toward his brother. “She accepted Toraf ?”

“No. That’s what I’m talking about. She wants to ask you for a dissolution.”

“A dissolution of what?”

“Of their sealing.”

“Rayna and Toraf are
sealed
?” Grom asks. “When did this happen?”

“Very funny.”

Grom smirks. Galen tries to picture his brother as an eighty-year- old human. Gray hair, more wrinkles than a shell has ridges, and that boyish grin would probably be toothless. But as an eighty- year- old Syrena, he looks as young as Galen. Has more teeth too, thanks to Toraf. Despite it all, he’s still all wrong for Emma. Too calm, too composed, too set in his ways to deal with a hurricane like Emma Stubborn McIntosh.

“I’ve been waiting for the day I could make Rayna someone else’s problem,” Grom says. “I do feel bad about it though. I always did like Toraf.”

“So you won’t dissolve it?”

“Not even if Toraf asks me to. It’s been so peaceful around here without her. Where have you two been anyway?” Galen shrugs. “The usual.” Guilt nips at his conscience like