I don’t even stop long enough for Brody to get a scenic view of the kingdom. I just want this done and behind us. Who knows what kind of havoc Doe is causing at home? Or what kind of moves she’s making on Quince?
As we swim up to the palace gates, the twin columns of coral that mark the entrance to the palace grounds, the guards are blocking the path, tugging an object back and forth between them.
“It’s mine,” Barney says, pulling the object sharply toward him. “I’m the head guard today.”
“But I,” Cidaris barks back, “am the senior officer.” The object jerks in his direction. “I get to hold the scepter.”
After watching a few more tug-of-war exchanges, I swim up to them. Daddy is very informal with his staff, so the palace guards are practically family. Especially Cid, who’s been in the guard since before Daddy was born. He’s like my honorary grandfather.
Even if, on occasion, he acts more like seven than seventy.
“Hi, Cid,” I say. “Hi, Barney.”
The pair instantly stops their battle, turning to me with giant grins on their faces. Their hands fly to their foreheads in twin salutes of respect. I blush, remembering Brody at my back, and return their salute so they can relax.
“Princess Waterlily!” they exclaim simultaneously.
“We didn’t know you were—”
“No one told us—”
“It was kind of a surprise,” I say, nodding at my passenger. “For both of us.”
Their gazes shift to Brody, who has released my waist and swum to the side so he can get a view of the palace. Then the guards turn their questioning gazes on me. I can read the question in their minds as clearly as if I were telepathic. Anyone could.
What about Master Quince?
“Princess?” Cid asks cautiously.
“Don’t worry,” I say. The entire palace—the entire kingdom—knows that a couple of weeks ago I decided to return to land to be with Quince. They know, because my decision meant I was also giving up my future as their queen. News that juicy spreads like a red tide.
Returning home with another boy is probably a shock. “This one isn’t mine,” I say, jerking my thumb at Brody, who is grinning like a fool. He looks like I just handed him the keys to an underwater theme park. “He’s Doe’s.”
“Lady Dosinia?” Barney asks.
Doe’s bratty behavior is widely known throughout the palace. They shouldn’t be surprised to learn she caused some big-time trouble in her short time on land.
The strangled look on Cid’s face suggests I’ve said something wrong.
“We’re just here to get the separation,” I explain. “Since Doe’s been ex—”
“Here, take the scepter,” Cid says, interrupting my explanation and thrusting the forgotten wand into Barney’s hand. “Go message bubble the palace that the princess is home.”
Barney looks like he wants to argue, but Cid adds, “That’s an order, whippersnapper.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Barney bows to me and then retreats to the guard tower. He doesn’t look one bit happy about being sent away.
Cid swims close and lowers his voice. “You should know, Princess, that His Highness has not made Lady Dosinia’s situation widely known.”
“Oh,” I say. “Okay.”
“Only his closest advisers and I know of her punishment.” He glances at the guard station, as if making sure Barney hasn’t emerged. “I think he would prefer that no one else in the kingdom be made aware of the exile.”
“Really?” I ask, kind of stunned.
Daddy is usually extremely open about his policies and decisions. Transparency is the key to respect, he always says. So why is he keeping this particular situation a secret?
He must have his reasons. He would never do something like this without careful thought and consideration. Maybe preserving Doe’s reputation for future suitors or something? That’s fine. I won’t be here long enough to have to watch my tongue.
“Is Daddy in his office?” I ask, wanting to get Doe’s separation over with and head back to Seaview. “We need to—”
The look of distress on Cid’s face freezes me mid-sentence.
“What?” I ask.
“His Highness is away from the palace today,” Cid explains as Barney swims out of the tower and back over to our group.
“Away?”
“He’s been gone since yesterday,” Barney adds. “He went to—”
Cid elbows him in the ribs. “We expect him back in the morning.”
The morning? Great. That means I’ll be cutting it close on making it back in time for my interview, but I can’t start worrying yet. If Daddy’s not back first thing tomorrow, then I’ll worry.
“Cool,” Brody says. “Does that mean I have time to look around?”
His eyes are wide and bright, and he’s looking around at all the sea-life-covered structures and underwater gardens with complete and total awe. Thalassinia feels so ordinary to me—it’s home—that I forget it’s entirely foreign to humans. This whole world of magic and mermaids and under-the-sea is like a shiny new toy for Brody, and I can’t exactly begrudge him some exploration. I always knew he was a water soul, born into the wrong world, so of course he’s thrilled to be here longer.
With night falling, I can’t exactly send him out on his own. I guess I’ll have to play tour guide.
“I’ll show you around,” I say with no enthusiasm. “Just let me go grab a snack from the kitchen.” The long swim really works up an appetite.
Cid, who’s known me practically since birth and can probably read my mind better than Quince, swims forward and says, “I would be happy to show the young man around, Princess.”
“But we’re on duty,” Barney says petulantly. “We can’t just—”
“You’re head guard today,” Cid replies with a friendly smirk. “You guard. I’ll tour.”
Barney glares at the scepter clutched in his left hand. “Fine.”
I glance at Brody, who looks like he’s won the lottery, and then back at Cid. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” Cid says.
Then, with Brody swimming after him, Cid heads toward the palace. They haven’t gone twenty feet when Brody darts off to follow a school of blue-green queen parrotfish. Cid swims ahead for several seconds—probably giving his favorite speech about the history of the palace—before realizing his ward is gone.
As Cid hurries to catch up, I laugh. “He’s going to have his work cut out for him, Barney,” I say, trying to make the pouting guard feel better. “Brody is one of the fastest swimmers in the state of Florida.”
He looks somewhat pacified. My job here is done.
Since I’m going to be here overnight, I know exactly where to go. When in doubt or cleaning up other people’s messes, the best friend’s house is always the answer.
Chapter 7
As I swim up to Peri’s house, just outside the palace wall, I bypass the front door and head directly for her window on the top floor. Floating outside her bedroom, I see Peri at her desk, bent over and working intently on a weaving project as her chestnut hair undulates around her. She makes some of the most beautiful cloth the ocean world has ever seen. Her talent is obvious.
This one is made from various shades of green, rangingfrom the deep mossy tint of codium to the vibrant lime of sea lettuce, with shining strands of gold glittering throughout.
“It’s beautiful, Peri,” I say, floating into her room. “As always.”
“Lily!” she gasps, whipping away from her work and quickly jamming the cloth behind her. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s almost funny, really.”
In a tragically hilarious way.
I roll my eyes and twist my body into a corkscrew.
I hear some shuffling and then Peri is in front of me, grabbing my shoulders to stop my whirling. Her gray-green eyes look directly into mine. “Is something wrong?” she asks, shaking me slightly. “I thought y
ou weren’t coming home until next weekend, just before your birthday celebration.”
“I wasn’t.” I swim over to her collection of designer Oceanista dolls—almost all of them gifts from either me or Daddy—and run my fingers lovingly over their historical costumes and tightly styled hair. “Dosinia happened.”
“Dosinia?” she asks, sounding shocked. “What did she do this time?”
“She kissed Brody.”
“Brody?” Peri echoes. “Your Brody?”
“He’s not my Brody,” I argue. “But, yeah, same boy.”
“How did she even meet him?” Peri asks. “Doe hates humans. Why would she go on land?”
Guess Cid wasn’t joking about Daddy not telling anyone about Doe’s exile, if Peri doesn’t know. Her mom is dressmaker to the Thalassinian elite; she hears all the best gossip.
Whatever Daddy’s reasons for keeping the whole thing quiet, I still don’t hesitate for a second. Peri’s my best friend and I tell her absolutely everything. If anyone knows how to keep a secret, it’s her.
“This is for your ears only,” I say, “but Doe’s been exiled.”
Peri gasps. “What?”
“Daddy revoked her powers.” I swirl away from the dolls and give Peri an oh-joy-for-me look. “He sent her to live with me until she gets past her hate for humans.”
“Wow.” Peri floats down onto a starfish-shaped cushion in the corner of her room. “She must have messed up drastically. What did she do this time?”
“I don’t know.” I join her on the next starfish over. “Daddy’s always been pretty lenient with her. This must have been over the top, but she won’t tell me what she did.”
“It must be pretty bad, if even Doe won’t own up to it.”
Peri sits thoughtfully for a moment, tugging absently at the end a starfish leg. “She really kissed a human?”
I nod.
“Maybe she doesn’t hate them any longer.”
Ha. Peri has no idea. “Maybe she just hates me more.”
I quickly explain my theory about why Doe bonded with Brody, just so I’d have to leave. So she could get her hooks into Quince—not that he’ll fall for any of her bait. She could be up there right now, tempting him with fabulous style and flirty laughter. My anger rises just thinking about her.
“Well, that sounds more like her,” Peri says.
She’s known Doe almost as long as she’s known me, so she’s not unfamiliar with my cousin’s antics. And she’s been at enough of Doe’s dress fittings that she’s also not unfamiliar with my cousin’s generally awful attitude. She’s seen firsthand the bratty side that Doe tries to hide from the populace beyond the palace walls.
“Anyway, since she can’t transfigure, I had to be the one to bring Brody,” I say, trying to change the subject off Doe, one of my least favorite topics of conversation. “Only Daddy’s away from the palace and won’t be back until morning.”
“So you’re here for the night?” she squeals.
“Looks like.”
Not that I’m unhappy to be home. I’d just rather be here under different circumstances, and with a different boy in my wake.
“Excellent!” Peri pushes off her starfish and jets to the door. “I’ll get Mom, and we can work on your birthday dress. After a day of fittings with the most horrid sea cows in the kingdom, she’ll be thrilled to work on someone normal.”
Before I can open my mouth, Peri is out of the room and calling for her mom, whom I love like she was my own. And I can’t wait to see what she’s whipping up for my dress.
Mrs. Wentletrap made the gown for my sixteenth birthday, a beautiful watercolor print of teals and turquoises, with aquamarine stones sewn into a sparkly starfield along the neckline and the fluttering waves of a seaweed hem. I’d felt every inch the princess that night.
At the time I never would have imagined that two years later, my eighteenth-birthday ball would be my last as Thalassinia’s princess.
“Come on,” Peri shouts. “We’re ready for you in the fitting room.”
I can’t help the giddy shiver of girlish delight that washes through me.
The Wentletrap fitting room is every little mergirl’s dream. The walls are covered in hundreds of fabric samples, all colors, all styles, many decorated with sparkles and pearls and the rarest shells in the ocean. Peri and I tried to count them all once. We gave up when we reached a thousand.
There are accessories, too, drawers full of things that kept me and Peri entertained for hours. Abalone buttons, rainbows of ribbons, beads and sequins and every size of pearl imaginable.
And best of all, in the center of the room there’s a gauzy half-circle canopy hanging from the ceiling all the way to the floor, facing an oversized full-length mirror. Perfect for a little mergirl playing dress-up. Or a big mergirl playing dress-up.
“Hi, Mrs. Wentletrap,” I say as I swim into the dream room.
“Lily, darling,” she says with a smile, pulling me into a welcoming hug. “It’s always wonderful to see you. Have you lost weight?”
“Not an ounce,” I answer with a laugh. “Do you know how many kinds of pudding they have on land? I couldn’t lose weight if I tried.”
We all laugh.
It feels good to be in this room, with the two ladies who are practically my second family. It feels . . . normal. No matter what’s happening on land, I almost never feel normal. There’s that small part of me that will always feel out of place. Sometimes I forget how it feels to belong.
Then, small talk over, Peri’s mom turns all business. I’m ushered under the canopy, wrapped in yards of neutral cloth so she can make a model of the gown to use as a pattern without having to risk her beautiful—and expensive—fabrics.
“I’m thinking we can go a little lower with the neckline this time,” she says around the straight pins she’s holding in the corner of her mouth. This always makes me nervous because I’m afraid she’ll swallow one. Even though she insists she hasn’t swallowed one in her nearly thirty years as a dressmaker and she’s not about to start now.
“You’re officially becoming a woman,” she continues, thankfully using the last of her pins to secure the fabric around my torso. “We should show off your womanly shape.”
My cheeks heat at the subtle compliment.
For the next few minutes, the room is a flurry of pinning and cutting and floating back to evaluate the shape and pinning some more. A sheet of white covers the full-length mirror so I can’t see what it looks like in progress. Instead, I focus my attention on Peri. She has always worked with her mom, but today she seems to be more of an equal assistant than just a helper.
And she’s obviously been assisting a lot lately.
“Who were you fitting earlier?” I ask, to fill the silence. “Peri said they were really horrid.”
Mrs. Wentletrap throws her daughter a scowl. As if she’s one to talk. I’ve heard more gossip from her than the talkative palace housekeeper, Margarite, could ever hope to know.
Peri ignores the look. “Guess.”
“I don’t—”
She gives me a come-on-you-know-who-I-mean look. Which can only mean one thing.
“Oh, no,” I groan. “Not the terrible trio.”
“None other.”
Now I really feel sorry for Peri and her mom. Astria, Piper, and Venus are three of the worst sea witches ever to swim in the ocean. They’re the daughters of nobles and diplomats, so I ran into them a lot growing up, and none of those run-ins ever ended well for me. They never let a chance for a cutting comment float by.
I wouldn’t wish their presence on anybody. Those three smile to your face and then harpoon you in the back at the first opportunity. I never thought I’d admit this, but I’d rather spend more time with Doe. At least she’s always straightforward in her attitude.
“Sorry,” I say, meaning it.
Peri shrugs like it’s no big deal. I know that it is. They’ve always been particularly harsh with her because she’s my best frien
d. Their jealousy is obvious.
I’ve always defended her, but that only seems to make them try that much harder to hurt her. If I were queen, I’d have them exiled indefinitely.
“What if the skirt was fitted to about halfway down the fin?” Peri suggests in a blatant change of subject. “And then maybe a short, petticoated ruffle at the bottom.”
Both Wentletraps float back a few feet, tilt their heads in unison, and squint at my fin. I know better than to interrupt the thought processing.
“You know what?” her mom says. “I think that might just be the perfect solution.”
Peri positively beams at her mom’s approval. Since forever she’s talked about becoming a lawyer—I think so she could argue cases in my court—but I wonder if she wouldn’t be happier following in her mom’s wake. Especially since, after the renunciation ceremony on my birthday, I won’t ever have a court.
“So, Lily,” Mrs. Wentletrap says, taking in the skirt to match Peri’s idea, “you haven’t said what brought you home.”
My eyes meet Peri’s over her mom’s head. Confiding a secret in Peri is easy; she’s my best friend. If I were becoming queen, I’d make her my adviser in a heartbeat. But her mom is . . . her mom. Like I said, she has gossip issues. Peri gives me an it’s-your-call look and a shrug.
I’m not sure why, but I feel compelled to keep Daddy’s—and Doe’s—secret.
“Just felt a little homesick,” I say, which is always true.
“That’s completely understandable,” she says absently, still absorbed in her cutting and pinning.
Usually I wouldn’t go out of my way to protect Doe, after how awful she’s been to me since, oh, forever. But if Daddy thinks it’s important for her exile to remain a secret, then I trust his judgment. If she were the type to repay debts, I’d say she owes me for this. Since she’s not, I’ll just content myself with taking the higher road.
“How long will you be here?” Mrs. Wentletrap asks, floating back to evaluate her work.