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 efforts.”

Galen chuckles. Rayna’s favorite place to scavenge for human rubble is along the commercial cruise routes in the Gulf of 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 baby crabs. “The usual” is visiting Dr. Milligan to get caught up on the latest marine news. Or spending a few days with Rachel moving her most recent purchases around one of his many houses. “The usual” is not living as a human, going to their schools, driving their cars, or wearing their clothes.

“Did Dr. Milligan have anything interesting for you?”

“A few things. Nothing to worry about, though.”

Grom nods. “Good. The last thing I need is something else to worry about.”

Finally, Galen notices his brother’s tense profile. Clenched jaw, taut biceps from tightly crossed arms. White knuckles where his hands grip impressions into his shoulders.

Galen stiffens. “What? What is it?”

Grom shakes his head, hoarding his misery to himself behind a scowl.

“Tell me.”

“It could be nothing,” Grom says.

“It could be, but I can tell it isn’t.”

His brother sighs. He faces Galen, eyes hard. “I’ll tell you, little brother. But first, promise me a few things.”

“What things?”

“Promise me that whatever happens, you’ll get Rayna to safety. I don’t care if you have to live as humans for the rest of your lives, you keep our sister safe. Promise.”

“Grom—”

“Promise!” Grom bellows, uncrossing his arms.

“You already know I will.” In fact, he’s insulted his brother would doubt it.

Grom nods, relaxes. “I know. But I needed to hear it.” He looks away when he says, “I had a private meeting with Jagen.”

“You what? Have you lost your mind?” A distant cousin of King Antonis, Jagen is the bluster behind the storm of conspiracy brewing in the Poseidon territory. Anyone can see he’s making a play for the throne, but over the decades, Antonis’s inflexibility has bloated the ranks of Jagen’s followers.

A good reason for Grom to be concerned with his siblings’ safety. If Jagen is truly ambitious enough to plot against his own king, he can’t be trusted not to try to overthrow the house of Triton. Plus, if anyone saw Grom meet with him, they might assume Jagen gained the support of the new Triton king. Or worse, King Antonis might assume that. The question is, should they?

“I know what I’m doing, Galen,” Grom growls.

“Apparently not. What does Father say?”

“You know I didn’t tell him.”

Galen nods. Grom would be a fool to tell their father. King Herof and King Antonis were friends long before they were enemies. And now King Grom would widen the chasm between them? “What did Jagen want?”

Grom sighs. “He requested permission to use Toraf. He needs him to Track someone. Someone the other Trackers can’t find.”

Nothing extraordinary. Because of their value, trackers are the only Syrena able to cross kingdom borders without fear of arrest. Of course, Jagen would want Toraf—he’s the best Tracker in the history of their kind. Out of respect for Galen’s family, though, Toraf never crosses the borders. And he would never agree to do Jagen’s bidding without royal permission from the house of Triton. Even then, he might not do it. “That’s it? Who does he need to track?”

“I wish that were it. It’s not so much who he needs to track, but why.”

“I swear by Triton’s trident if you don’t start talking—”

“His daughter Paca is missing. He thinks Antonis took her.”