Of Poseidon Page 37

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 satisfied 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 hold a private mating ceremony—in view of Rayna’s absence and all.”

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 effort not to change than it does to change. Maybe Dr. Milligan can help us figure out how to make your instinct stronger.”

I nod. “Maybe. But I’m pretty sure Mom won’t consent to a field 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.

He grins. “You think I’m hot?”

“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 fish 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 fly 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. Relaxes. Smiles even. He walks over to his friend, slaps him on the back. “Toraf, I need a favor.”

14

GALEN KNOWS where to find 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 first 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 minefield, 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 nervous, always have. Fish and plants have long abandoned this part of the Triton territory. In fact, as far as Galen knows, Grom is the only visitor this place hosts. Holes big enough to swallow a fishing boat pock the seafloor 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 floor by a chain, the metal ball floats undisturbed, consumed by rust, left behind by the humans after they finished 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 minefield. 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.

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