And how, if they are true and real, could I allow him to sacrifice everything he knows—his friends, his family, his motorcycle, his future—to spend most of the rest of his life in the ocean?
“Lily, you can’t just throw this—”
“I have to,” I cut in. “We have to. Be logical, Quince. If we don’t separate, then by the next lunar cycle the bond will finalize and you will turn fully mer. Your terraped form—your legs—would be permanently tied to mine.”
“I know that. Your cousin explained the whole thing.” He rolls his eyes. “Probably thinking it would scare me off.”
“You would never walk on land without me again.”
“So—”
“When I take my place in court, I’ll have to be in Thalassinia almost all the time,” I explain, trying to hit this home for him. “Think about that. Think about being stuck in the ocean most of your life. Not being able to ride your motorcycle whenever you want. Not being able to run or dance or climb a—”
“I don’t dance.” He is still not getting it. “Lily, I’ve spent the last three years crazy over you. I don’t want to let this chance slip away. Especially not now that I’ve seen what things could be like with us.”
Aaargh! He’s being obtuse. “What about your mom?” I ask. “Who would go to the grocery store for her or take out her trash or fix her junker car when she’s late for work?” All things I know Quince has done. Guess I have been paying attention.
The thought of having to abandon his mom actually gives him pause. Good! He needs to be thinking about stuff like that.
But then he shakes his head. “We can work that out later. I’m willing to make those sacrifices. Why can’t you see that?”
“You might be,” I shout, my emotions flooding out. “But I’m not.”
“I don’t—”
I have to say something to make him understand. The truth won’t work. I can’t tell him that I hate the thought of him sacrificing everything in his life to be with me…only to regret the sacrifice later. If I tell him that, though, then he might realize that my feelings for him are growing, and he’ll use that as the anchor in his argument. If he knows that I even think I might be falling for him—and what if I’m just as wrong about these feelings as I was about Brody?—he’ll never let go.
And I couldn’t live with that.
We’re from two different worlds. He belongs in his. I belong in mine.
So I say the only thing I know will make him let go.
“I’m not willing to give you the rest of my life.” I shrug his hands off my shoulders and cross my arms. “I don’t want you here.”
I see the hurt in his eyes for an instant before he shuts me out. His eyes, his whole face, go blank.
He doesn’t speak, just kind of floats away.
The door to Daddy’s office opens and Mangrove swims out. “His highness is ready to begin.”
Quince follows him into the office, leaving me alone in the hall. I take a moment to steady myself, to take a deep breath and tamp down the urge to cry. It’s what has to be done.
And the reason I have to do it is the same reason that makes it so very, very hard.
“You are certain?” Daddy asks.
The question is supposed to be for both of us, but Quince doesn’t answer. We both know Daddy’s really just asking me. I nod, not trusting my voice. From the pained look on Daddy’s face, I can tell that my eyes are sparkling. I can’t help it anymore.
Daddy motions his guards forward, and they take position at either side of Quince.
“Then, by the power vested in me by the great sea god Poseidon,” he says, gripping his trident in his right hand, “I declare this bond…irreversibly severed.”
I feel a spark of electricity tingle over my skin. All at once, it feels like every last one of my emotions drains from my body.
Cid, at Quince’s left, grabs him by the arm and says, “Take a deep breath, son.”
He does—his last breath of water—and Cid and Barney kick off through the open window behind Daddy’s desk, with Quince’s now fully human body dragging between them. Once they clear the frame, I hurry to the window and lean out, watching, empty, as they rush Quince to the surface.
How can the right decision feel, all at once, so very wrong?
“It’s not too late,” Daddy says. “Until he breaches the surface I can call him back.”
“No,” I whisper, my throat tight. It wouldn’t be fair. I won’t let my selfish—and unreliable—emotions take his future away.
“You are so very strong, daughter,” he says, pulling me into his arms.
Resting my head against his shoulder, I don’t feel strong. I feel as opposite of strong as you can get.
I feel like a coward.
23
“Next,” Daddy calls out to Mangrove.
His secretary goes off in search of the next parties seeking an audience with the king. And—Daddy reaches over and squeezes my hand—the princess.
“I am so very glad you decided to return home,” he says for the millionth time since I returned for good earlier this week. “I missed you more than I can say.”
I force a smile and try to ignore the part of me that wishes I hadn’t said good-bye to Aunt Rachel last weekend. I’d been back on land for only a few hours after the separation before it became abundantly clear that I couldn’t stay. Being so close to Quince, while feeling an ocean apart, was just painful after everything we’d been through. It was only four days ago, but it feels like forever.
Before I have to come up with some response for Daddy, Mangrove announces the next visitors—a pair of seaholders who have a dispute about the border between their properties.
I zone out.
After the separation, I should have known I couldn’t return to Seaview. No matter how much I miss Aunt Rachel and Shannen, there was too much waiting for me there. Too much emotion. Too much pain. Too much…just too much.
Besides, I belong in the sea, on the throne, so why waste time playing around on land? I was only delaying the rest of my life. I need to stay in Thalassinia, find a suitable—nonhuman—mermate by my birthday three weeks from now, and prepare for my future as queen.
It’s my duty.
“Very well, gentlemermen,” Daddy says. “I don’t expect to hear any more of these petty quibbles over a single inch of seascape. Understood?”
The two men nod enthusiastically and backpaddle out of the royal hall.
Daddy is so good at this. I know he’s had most of a lifetime to practice, but somehow I don’t think I will ever be as strong a ruler. And it doesn’t help that, even though I’m sitting in the queen’s throne—my mother’s throne—and staring out over the lavish hall, all I see is land. Everything in Thalassinia reminds me of something on land. Of Quince.
I was waiting in this hall, right here in Mom’s throne, when Quince came back from his tour with Dosinia. When they swam in, holding hands and laughing, I was so mad, I could have strangled them both. I guess everyone but me saw it for the jealousy it was.
I feel the tears tingle at the corners of my eyes. I need to get out of here before I start to sparkle. Daddy thinks I’m thrilled to be here, home and at his side. I don’t want to disillusion him. I don’t want him to know I’m just trying to forget.
Only I remember more each day. It’s like the bond is still holding me to Quince.
“May I be excused?” I ask, more formally than usual because of the setting. Blinking my eyes quickly to stem the sparkling, I don’t wait for Daddy to give his permission. As soon as I see him start to nod, I jet for the door.
Without going anywhere in particular, I swim through the hall and out the palace doors. As I cross the gardens, I remember Quince trying to ride the wakemaker—with little success. The excitement on his face made him look like a little boy on Christmas morning. In my memory, he looks up at me, his sea blue eyes twinkling, and smiles.
My eyes are probably shining like the sun by now.
> Avoiding the palace gate—and the inquiring minds of the guards—I swim for the side wall, making it across and over into the relative privacy of life beyond the palace bounds.
Why is the right choice turning out to be so hard? Once the bond severed, setting Quince free for his land-based life, I should have been able to go back to normal—or at least something close to normal. Maybe the separation didn’t work? Maybe we’re still magically connected and that’s why I can’t stop thinking about him. Can’t stop feeling him, and feeling his absence.
Before I realize where I’m going, I’m knocking on Peri’s front door.
Her mom answers, takes one look, and pulls me into a hug. “You poor dear.”
“Sorry”—sniff—“Mrs. Wentletrap”—sniff—“I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Don’t you worry,” she says, soothing her hands up and down my back. Twisting her head toward the upper levels, she shouts, “Peri! Lily is here!”
I’m still crying on Mrs. Wentletrap’s shoulders when Peri floats down. “Hey, Lily, I—”
I can just imagine what a mess I look like. Eyes sparkling with tears, hugging desperately to her mom, sniffling like a sick guppy. It’s a testament to my sorry state that I can’t even feel embarrassed for my complete and total breakdown.
“Oh, Lily,” she says, floating closer and adding her soothing hand to my back. “What happened?”
I look up at her, feeling bleak and desperate and so very, very sad. “It’s the bond,” I wail. “Daddy didn’t sever it right.”
That has to be why, right? That has to be why I can’t get Quince out of my mind, even though we’ve been separated for days. Why I still feel a part of him in my heart.
“Sweetie,” Peri says, all sympathy, “it’s not the bond.”
Sniff. “That’s what Quince said.”
“Mom, can you fix Lily a bowl of plumaria pudding?” Then, to me, “Let’s go talk in the family room.”
She leads me away while her mom swims off to the kitchen. Plumaria pudding is the undersea equivalent of chocolate. I don’t think a mountain of it could make this pain go away.
When her mom is out of earshot, Peri says, “Tell me you don’t love him.”
“What?” I look up, startled. What kind of question is that? Well, not a question, but a weird request.
“Lily”—she lays her hand on mine—“I’ve known you longer than just about anybody.”
I nod and sniff. We’ve been friends since almost forever.
“So that means I know you better than anybody.”
Probably also true.
“Keep that in mind when I tell you,” she says, “that I have never seen you as worked up about anything as you have been over Quince.”
“Just because he likes to push my buttons,” I say defensively. I know it’s a weak argument.
Peri rolls her eyes. “You’re not the most proactive girl in the sea,” she says. “You defer to people when maybe you shouldn’t, you take no action rather than create a potential incident. You take the safest course. I mean, you lusted after that guy Brody for how long without ever doing anything about it?”
“I was—” I start to defend myself, to say I was waiting for the right moment, but then I remember that it doesn’t matter anymore. Brody was a fantasy.
“Quince may push your buttons,” she says. “But when he’s around you…I don’t know, you have a fire inside. You meet him head-on, when you cow to others. You don’t back down from him.”
I think about that. It’s definitely true, I don’t take any carp from Quince. Ever. He pushes and I push back.
I’m not like that in the rest of my life. I’m not a push-over, really; it’s just that I don’t see the benefit in turning something into a massive confrontation. With Quince, I’m always itching for a fight.
I always thought it was just a personality quirk that came out when I’m away from the calming effects of water, but maybe it’s more than that. Maybe it’s Quince who brings my emotions to a boil.
But is that a good thing?
“What does that mean, Peri?” I shake my head. “That he brings out the worst in me?”
She shakes her head slowly, smiling. “I think he brings out the best you.”
The best me? That can’t be right. What’s so great about being an aggressive, confrontational person? I’d rather float off to the side than swim front and center. I avoid conflict in every possible way.
But maybe that’s a bad thing.
I think of Daddy, deftly handling the squabbling seaholders with authority and just enough regal force to make them rethink bringing their petty argument before the king. That’s what makes him a powerful leader. He is confident in his decisions and dares anyone to defy him.
I’m not like that.
At least, not with anyone but Quince.
That’s when it hits me. Peri is partly right. Quince brings out a fire in me that burns to take him on. With Brody—before I realized he was nothing more than imaginary perfection—I was afraid to do something wrong, something that would make him laugh at or ridicule me. With Quince, I’ve never had that fear.
With Quince, I don’t feel like a lesser being…I feel like an equal.
With Quince, I don’t have to pretend to be anyone other than exactly who I am. He makes me content to be me. That’s what makes him my perfect mermate. Well, that and the fact that I love him to pieces.
“Peri, I—”
“I know,” she says, giving me a gentle shove. “You have to go.”
“I’ll see you soon,” I insist.
“Promises, promises,” she says as I disappear out the front door.
I’m too busy worrying about what Daddy will say when I tell him I’m going back to Seaview. He will be so disappointed.
“I wondered how long it would take,” Daddy muses as he studies the calendar on his desk. “Bet Mangrove ten star bucks that you’d be gone within two days.”
“What?” I expected some kingly rage, a slammed fist or two. Maybe even a royal edict. I definitely hadn’t expected a wager.
“Lily,” he says, looking up at me with all the love he’s always shown, “I’m not blind. I can see how much you love the boy.”
“I—” At first I feel a little embarrassed to confess to my dad, but then I realize there’s no point in pretending. Especially since that’s why I’m here in his office in the first place. “I do, Daddy,” I admit. “I do love him.”
“That’s what you never realized about the bond,” he says. “It doesn’t force feelings that are not already there. It might uncover emotions you weren’t prepared to admit, but it can’t make someone fall in love. That you did all on your own.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I complain. “You could have saved me—saved us—a lot of time and heartache.”
“Would it have done any good?” he asks sagely. “You weren’t ready to hear the truth—from me or from Quince.” He smiles. “Besides, I wanted you to realize for yourself what you wanted. In love and in life.”
Life. Yeah, my life is definitely going to change. If I’m going back to be with Quince, then I’m facing a very different future from the one I’ve always imagined. With the bond immunity in place, he can never become mer. And it’s not like humans can apply for a day pass to Thalassinia. He can’t make his home in the sea.
Which means neither will I.
Which means I won’t be taking my place in Daddy’s court or preparing to succeed to the throne. Thalassinia can’t exactly have an absentee crown princess in her court.
Strangely, the thought doesn’t make me feel as sad as I would have thought. In fact, I feel a little…relieved.
“Daddy, I—I’m going back. To stay.”
“I know.” He shakes his head and smiles sadly. “I wish you had realized this before we conducted the separation.” Then he huffs out a little laugh. “Although I think I’ve always known that your dreams reach far beyond this palace. You’ve never fully belonge
d to the sea, have you?”
“Maybe not,” I say, even if it feels weird to say so. It’s strange to realize that the place you’ve always considered home might not be where you’re supposed to end up.
“You’ve always had more of your mother in you,” he says. “She tried to convince me to move to land. Said she didn’t think she’d ever feel entirely at home in a world where she might float away in the night.”
“Did you want to?” I ask. “Move, I mean.”
“Of course. I loved your mother more than anything in the world, until you came along.”
It’s such a sweet declaration that I swim over his desk and hug myself to his chest.
“But by the time we met, your grandfather had passed and I had already ascended to the throne.” He squeezes me closer. “Leaving the kingdom was not an option.”
His duty before his heart. And am I about to make the opposite decision?
“What about me?” I ask. “Thalassinia will lose its heir if I don’t bond by my birthday.”
And it’s not as if I could bond to someone else, knowing that I love Quince.
“First of all,” Daddy says, “I plan on living a good long time, so Thalassinia has plenty of time to find a new successor, if that’s your final decision. We might be able to find a loophole around the bonding-by-your-eighteenth-birthday law.”
I smile. I always had a hard time with the idea that I would take the crown when Daddy dies. It felt like I would be stealing it from him just when he was stolen from me. But I never allowed myself to think of what I would do if I weren’t the royal princess. Maybe I’m destined for something else.
“Secondly,” he continues, hopefully unaware of my sad thoughts, “neither your mother nor I would ever want you to put your royal duty before something as personal as love. We want more for you.”
This is why he’s always felt more like a dad than a king. What royal daughter could ask for more?