Just for Fins (7 page)

I smile gratefully. My baby cousin might be a brat and a pain in the tailfin most of the time, but she knows how to step up when I need her.

“Will someone please tell me what's going on?” Brody demands. “Why are you three acting like someone died?”

Doe leans close and whispers in his ear. As she explains the situation to him, his eyes widen and he gives me a pitying look.

“It'll be fine,” I say, trying to stay positive.

Doe is right. Quince is strong, and so is his love. He will pass these tests, I know he will. That doesn't mean they won't be hard and I won't worry about them, but it
will
be fine.

“Hey, Lily?”

I turn at the sound of Shannen's voice. The terror is gone from her eyes, and she looks like her normal, down-to-business self again.

“Do you want to work on this tomorrow?” She glances at Calliope and back at me. “If you have stuff to do . . .”

“No,” I say, eager to get to work on the other big problem in my life. I can't do anything about the trial right now, but I can make progress on the survey. I look back at Calliope. “We're done here, right?”

“Yes.” Calliope gathers her scrolls into her bag. “Now it is just a matter of waiting for the call to the first test.”

I join Shannen at the kitchen table, where she has pens and notepaper laid out and her laptop open, ready to work. When I told Shannen about Miss Molina's advice, she volunteered to help me create the survey to make documenting the environmental problems easier. She's a whiz at anything that involves research and organization, so I really appreciate her help. If only she were a whiz at the mer kingdoms of the Western Atlantic, too.

Calliope walks through on her way to the door. “I really am sorry I had to be the bearer of this news, Princess,” she says. “You and Quince deserve some peace and happiness.”

“I know.”

“And I really do love your hair.” She smiles. “The blue is a lovely shade.”

I smile back. “Thanks.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, I—” I shake my head, my gaze drifting to the work before me on the table. Speaking of experts in all things mer world . . . “Actually,” I say, looking up at her expectantly, “I could use your advice on something else. Can you stay for a while?”

She immediately drops her bag to the floor and slips into the chair next to me. “Of course. What can I do?”

Chapter 8

“Y
ou're nuts,” Dosinia snaps. “You need to get the support of Glacialis first. Queen Dumontia is the most respected ruler in the Western Atlantic.”

I roll my eyes. “Glacialis is too far away,” I say, for what feels like the tenth time. “It will take most of a day to even get there. If I start with her this weekend, then that will be the only thing I accomplish.”

“Exactly,” Calliope says, coming to my defense. “If Lily begins closer to home, in Trigonum and Desfleurelle and Antillenes, she can speak with three kingdoms right from the start.”

“But without Glacialis, she might not
get
their support,” Dosinia returns.

Prithi can't decide which mermaid to love on. She moves in a triangle, weaving around my ankles, then Doe's and Calliope's, and back to mine. She must be in kitty-cat heaven.

Shannen and Brody exchange a look across the kitchen table as the three of us mergirls erupt in an animated debate. We're so fixed on talking over each other, jabbing our fingers at the map of the Western Atlantic laid out across the table, that I don't hear the door open.

“I'm just trying to save her from looking stupid later,” Doe argues.

“And I'm trying to help her make the most of her time,” Calliope returns.

“I never know what I'm going to find when I walk through this door.”

I look up at the sound of Quince's voice. “Hi—”

“She might as well tear up the surveys right now,” Doe continues, “if she's going to start with those lesser kingdoms.”

I throw a warning glare at Dosinia. “They are not
lesser
,” I grind out. “They are smaller and not as wealthy as some of the others.”

Dosinia crosses her arms over her chest and purses her lips. “I think the word you're looking for,” she says defiantly, “is
lesser
.”

I growl, debating whether crawling over the table to strangle her would count as mermicide. Surely a jury of anyone who's ever met my bratty cousin would understand.

I roll my eyes—again—and am about to start in on her—
again
—when Quince notices our visitor.

“Calliope?” He throws me a questioning look. “What brings you to our fair shores?”

Everyone around the table suddenly clams up. Quince walks behind me and places his hands on my shoulders. He starts rubbing, like he can sense how tense the situation is making me.

“What?” he asks. “Bad news?”

I try to force myself to relax, to urge him to relax, too. The tension swirling around the room doesn't help. I catch Doe's eye and lift my eyebrows in a suggestive gesture. Amazingly, she gets—and
takes
—the hint.

“Brody, didn't you need some help with your econ homework?” Doe asks.

She reaches down and scoops Prithi into her arms—I knew she was developing a soft spot for the cat.

Brody shoves back from the table. “Oh, right. Yeah, let's go work on that.”

In a flash, they're both gone.

“I need to get going,” Shannen says, stuffing her laptop into her backpack. “I have a ton of calculus homework to do. You'd think, with there only being a couple weeks left in school, Mr. Kingsley would lay off, but I think it's his mission to keep us drowning in busywork right up until graduation.”

She heaves her backpack onto her shoulder, gives me a sympathetic look, then says good-bye and slips out the kitchen door.

With the table empty except for me and Calliope, Quince drops casually into the seat Shannen vacated, resting his arm on the back of my chair.

“Okay,” he says, sounding calm, “just tell me. What's going on?”

Calliope starts to explain. “Well, you see, according to ancient mer law, when a mer prince or princess falls in love—”

I touch her on the arm, and she stops. This is my guy. I'm the one who got him into this, and I'm going to be the one to tell him about it. It's my responsibility.

“It's called the Trial of Truth,” I say. “It's a test of . . . worthiness, I guess, that the ancient founders of mer society dreamed up for situations like ours.”

“When a mermaid princess and a human fall in love?”

I twist in my chair and lay my arm over his, smoothing my fingertips across the soft leather. I shake my head as I explain. “When they are already in love when the mermaid princess bonds to another merman.”

His Caribbean-blue eyes study me, unblinking. I force myself to keep the fear hidden. The trial is going to be hard enough for Quince. I don't want my worries to stress him out even more.

“What do I have to do?” he asks.

For this answer, I turn to Calliope. She knows more about what exactly everything will entail.

“It is a series of three tests, designed according to specifications written by the ancient rulers of the original five mer kingdoms.” Calliope pulls out the kelpaper scroll and searches for the part that explains the process. She reads, “‘The human mate must complete the three tests within one lunar cycle of bond formation to prove worthy of the merfolk's love.'”

“One lunar cycle,” he repeats. “That's—”

“Four weeks,” I say. “From the time of the bond. From my birthday.”

He nods. “Okay, so three weeks from now. What are the tests?”

“That I can't tell you,” Calliope says. “They will be delivered to you when the time is appropriate.”

“Instructions will be sent by messenger gull,” I explain. “Directly from the royal chamber at the palace.”

Quince lets out a humorless laugh. “Do I get any hints?” he asks, and though he's trying to play it light, I can tell he's worried. “Don't tell me I have to go into this totally blind.”

“No, of course not,” I say, giving Calliope a meaningful look.

“No, no,” she says. “I can tell you that of the three tests, one will challenge you physically, one will challenge you mentally . . .”

“And the third?” Quince asks.

“The third will challenge you emotionally.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“It will test the strength of your love.” Calliope gives us a brilliant smile. “And after having worked with you both before, I am sure that will be the easiest of the three.”

Quince squeezes my hand. “No problems there.”

He's taking this really well, and maybe that's because he doesn't yet understand how difficult these tests will be. There's no point in worrying him now. He'll find out eventually, when the instructions come. And either he'll handle them . . . or he won't. There's nothing we can do about it now.

I refuse to even consider the possibility of failure.

Calliope gets up from her chair. “I should return to the kingdom. I'll leave you two to discuss things.” She lifts her tote bag onto her shoulder and reaches in to dig something out. “I am quite sure you will meet the Trial of Truth without difficulty,” she says, and I hope Quince doesn't notice the waver in her voice, “but should you need anything—anything at all—you can send for me.”

She pulls out a small yellow scroll of kelpaper and hands it to Quince.

Yellow kelpaper for an urgent message.

“Simply call a messenger gull and give it this,” she explains. “I will help in any way I can.”

Quince thanks her, and she gives him a quick hug. I give her a longer hug. I'm not sure how much help she can be when the tests begin, but I'm glad to have her on our side.

After we say good-bye, Quince turns to me. “Call a messenger gull?” he asks with a laugh. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“I'll teach you,” I say, leaning forward to give him a quick, reassuring kiss. “It's easy.”

He turns his attention to the map on the table. “You're going somewhere?”

I'm not sure if he's dismissing the trial as insignificant or trying not to think about it. I'm definitely in the second category.

“Yes,” I say, relieved to be talking about the other big concern in my life right now. “I'm going to visit the kingdoms in the region.”

I give him a quick rundown of my plan, how I need to gather information about the scope of the problem so I can garner support—in writing—for a joint effort to address the environmental concerns in the oceans and the mer world. So the kingdoms don't feel like they have to face it all alone.

“Sounds like a great plan,” he says.

“I think so too,” I reply. “I'm just not sure how to start. Calliope thinks I should talk to the nearest kingdoms first, get as many on board as quickly as possible.”

“But Doe thinks you should start at the top and work down from there.”

“Exactly.” I stare helplessly at the map. After going around in circles with Doe's, Calliope's, and occasionally Shannen's input, I feel completely lost.

“What if the top dog won't play?” he asks.

I look up, wondering what he means.

“What if you go all the way up to the ice kingdom,” he says, tracing the journey along the east coast, up to Glacialis, “and the queen says no?”

“That would be terrible,” I say. “It would be so much harder to get other rulers to cooperate after that. She is highly respected.”

And a little feared. I saw her power firsthand in the council meeting. She left, and the others followed. Few would actively go against her if she took a stand opposing my plan.

“What if one or two of the little dogs say no?” He draws a big circle with his finger, encompassing the kingdoms nearest Thalassinia. “What happens then?”

I shrug, beginning to see his point. “If some of them say no, then it will be disappointing.”

“But not devastating?” Quince twists his mouth and shrugs at me, as if to say “Then that's where you should start.”

“Plus,” I continue, feeling like I am finally coming to a decision, “it will be easier to convince the smaller, less powerful kingdoms to join in the effort because they are the least equipped to deal with the problems. They should
want
to cooperate more.”

“Sounds like you know what you need to do, then,” he says.

I nod, grabbing the wax pencil that has rolled to the edge of the map.

“I'll start here,” I say, drawing a red circle around Trigonum, Desfleurelle, and Antillenes—Thalassinia and Acropora's nearest neighbors. “With luck and a current boost from Daddy's trident, I can get to all three kingdoms this weekend.”

If I can harness my new power, that will speed up the trip even more.

Quince leans in over the map, studying, and I think he's going to ask me something about the kingdoms or my plan or Daddy's trident.

Instead, without taking his eyes off the map, he asks, “What happens if I fail?”

“What?” I whisper.

“If I don't pass the three tests,” he says. “What's the consequence?”

I suck in a shaky breath. This is the part I didn't want to talk about, the part I hoped he wouldn't ask about. But I guess he's too clever—or has learned too much about how mer-world magic works—to assume there won't be a price.

There is, and it's a big one.

“If you fail,” I say, keeping my voice steady, “then you are banished from the water forever.”

He lifts his Caribbean-blue eyes to stare into mine. “And?”

“And?” I echo.

“I know that can't be it,” he says. “Nothing in your world is ever that simple.”

A part of my heart breaks when he calls it
my
world. I want it to feel like his world, too. But now isn't the time. He's right; there's more to the consequence of failure than him being exiled.

“And . . . ,” I say, wishing I didn't have to tell him this, “I'll be banished from land.” I swallow hard. “Forever.”