by Tobie Easton
MerMatron Zayle, Caspian’s grandmother and my parents’ campaign manager (or as I like to call her, their monarchy manager), advised them to take advantage of the all-time high in public support and hold a vote of the nobles’ council earlier than planned. With war still so recent in the nobles’ memories and their unwillingness to disturb the new, tenuous peace by going against the tide of public opinion, the council approved my parents’ bid for the throne. And here we are, on the way to their coronation.
Now the plan is to use the anticipation of Em and Leo’s wedding to keep morale high and ensure that the public’s much-needed support doesn’t wane in the months following today’s ceremony.
“The designs for my beluess are getting more elaborate by the day,” Em says, referencing her wedding siluess.
“You’ll be beautiful,” Leo says. Then, with a small smile meant just for her, adds, “You always are.”
He gazes at her with such unguarded, honest love. It makes me miss Clay. So much.
A glance over my shoulder at the dark, sparkling water surrounding us tells me how far I am from shore. How far I am from him. From his arms and his lips and his whispered reassurances that we’ll find a way.
Leo touches his tail to Em’s under the water, topaz meeting emerald. If Clay only had a tail … I look away. The truth is, no matter how hopeful Clay is and how badly I want to make all our dreams come true, I can’t silence the voice inside telling me I won’t be able to find a way to make him Mer—because that way doesn’t exist.
The voice telling me that all the research can’t be wrong. The voice telling me it’s impossible.
That voice grows a little louder every day.
Holding her crown with a steadying hand, Em kisses Leo, their lips pressing together like their tails.
Tears prick my eyes.
“What are we all waiting for?” I call out. Before a single pearl can roll down my cheek on what is supposed to be so happy an occasion, I raise my hands above my head, push off with a powerful kick of my tail, and dive into the cool, cloaking water.
One by one, the rest of the party follows suit. We bid goodbye to the surface and swim deeper, immersing ourselves in the waves.
Swimming over the Border will never feel natural. My whole life, the laws of my Community forbade me from crossing this row of blue, phosphorescent coral five thousand feet from the coast into the war-torn ocean beyond for my own protection. Once, this marked the end of my world.
That the Border now serves as nothing but a landmark for Mer to cross over freely on their journeys to and from land strikes me as inconceivable. Like the rest of today.
With so much traffic back and forth for the coronation, the Foundation has had to get creative to avoid navy sonar picking up unusually high activity in the area, like they did when Mer from Below poured into Malibu for Melusine and her father’s trial.
The thought of the navy brings memories back in a rush. Sneaking onto the naval base. Knocking on Clay’s father’s door in the officers’ quarters before sunrise on that terrible morning. Fearing for Caspian’s life, and for my own, if I didn’t follow Ondine’s orders to siren Mr. Ericson and a slew of other humans after him in her twisted plan to ensure Mer secrecy and safety. I came so close to doing it. To sirening him. To stealing someone’s free will all over again.
“Lia?” I jerk out of my scales when Amy touches my arm. “Sorry. You okay? They’re almost ready for us to cross.”
You didn’t do it, I remind myself. You didn’t siren again. Sireny is in my past now, and I know I need to move on, but that’s hard to do when I have no clear picture of my future. So, I do the next best thing: I focus on the here and now.
“It’ll just be one more minute,” Em says. “We’re the last ones leaving.”
“The security team devised all sorts of ways to ensure coronation-related travel doesn’t draw attention,” Aunt Rashell tells us. She and Uncle Kai have worked closely with the Foundation’s security department and police force since they arrived Above after the wars to spend more time with Amy. “Mer who want to attend the coronation Below have been heading out at a slow trickle for the past two weeks. We spaced everyone out, and even had some Mer cross among schools of large, striped bass on migration or in a raft of sea lions.”
“But for you,” Uncle Kai says, a smile sneaking onto his face as he looks at my parents, my sisters, and me, “the security team thought something a little more … celebratory was in order.”
“Wait here!” Em practically squeals. She’s usually so composed that her excitement makes me shoot Leo a questioning look.
“She planned a surprise for you guys,” he whispers, his face filled with affection as he looks at her.
Em disappears behind a large, craggy limestone formation. When she returns, I gasp so sharply that the extra water rushes out my gills. “We’ll be swimming across the border with these!” Em announces. She’s leading an entire pod of jaw-droppingly beautiful, pale pink dolphins.
“They’re albino dolphins,” Leo says, nodding at their scarlet eyes and skin the shade of rose quartz.
“Wow,” I say. Amy bounces in the water, a huge grin on her face. With her affinity for animals, she’s by far the most overjoyed of all of us. But even the twins are wiggling their blue fins like excited five-year-olds.
“Breathtaking,” my mother murmurs. My father lets out a low whistle.
As if sensing our admiration of them, the dolphins swim closer. One of them nods at the others, and suddenly they all glide gracefully through the water, forming a circle around us, then lift their bodies until they’re floating vertically. At the same moment, all of them arch backwards in a series of synchronized summersaults.
“It’s like they’re welcoming us,” Amy says. Right then, the dolphins emit an array of friendly sounding whistles and clicks. Keeping her body language calm and open, Amy holds up a hand to the dolphin across from her and says, “Hello,” which elicits another set of clicks.
The pink dolphins swim inward, toward us. Soon, I’m face to face, belly to belly, and fin to fin with one of my closest genetic relatives. I smile at her and, following Amy’s example, say, “Hello.” Nodding her head, she blows air out of her blowhole in a perfect ring, then pushes it at me with her nose until it encircles my wrist like a bracelet. I look on in awe. “Tallimymee,” I say, using the most respectful word for thank you. And even though I’ve never specialized in dolphin communications the way some Mer do, I can tell by her expression that she understands. Together, our group of Mer and dolphins cross the border.
The journey to New Meris flies by faster than I could have imagined with the pink dolphins at our side. The one I’ve come to think of as my friend speeds up, challenging me to keep pace with her. Laughter, deep and satisfying, spills out of me as we race through the water.
When we approach the outskirts of the city, where Mer have already gathered to watch our procession pass, the dolphins slow down so we can ride them at a stately pace.
“We only expected them to help us over the Border,” Em calls out.
“We’d planned to stop here and get in a carriage,” my dad says, looking to my mom.
“Dolphins are respected allies of our kind,” notes the event coordinator, swimming alongside the guards just behind us and the dolphins. “No one could fault you for including them in the procession.”
“Then I suppose we’ll start a new tradition,” my mother says, petting her dolphin’s snout. She and my father guide their dolphins to the front of our group, high in the water so they’ll rise above the crowds, some of whom have already spotted us and started waving and cheering from a distance.
Atop their dolphins, my parents lead us through the open city gates of New Meris.
Chapter Six
Melusine
They arrive on … you’ve got to be kidding me. What, a carriage isn’t good enough for them?
They have to make an even bigger show? And t
he crowd is eating it up. What a bunch of herring.
The pink dolphins swoop toward us, growing closer to the cheering crowd gathered here behind crystal-studded seaweed ropes to catch a glimpse of the new royal family. I must admit, aside from the ridiculous entrance, the procession appears well-executed so far. They’ve timed it well, arriving at the capital’s central square in front of the white coral and ice palace right as a new day dawns. They must have set out last night, starting out Above and traveling Below to represent the reunification of Merkind, and ensuring the new king and queen will be crowned at the precise moment that best symbolizes the dawning of a new day for our people. Smart.
All around me, Mer from both Above and Below rejoice, celebrating the reunion and welcoming a so-called new era of peace as they throw bright green bubble algae above their heads. One catches on the current and floats up toward the family on those garish dolphins. Lia is too oblivious to notice it until it’s out of her reach, but one of the twins—I have not a clue which one—grabs it and waves it in the air, blowing a kiss to the crowd with her other hand. To my left, the man who threw it grins stupidly and looks like he’s about to faint.
Behind the immediate family rides the strawberry blond–haired one Lia has such a soft spot for, who’s growing like a seaweed stalk. Lia’s cousin, right? So, those two flanking her must be her parents then. They’re certainly not what I expected. Strong, muscular bodies with polished swordfish-bill blades strapped to biceps and hips—these two scream bilriika, warriors of the highest caliber. A battle scar decorates the woman’s face the way squid ink tattoos decorate her defined arms and ripped abdomen. Their cheekbones have been shaded to sharp angles and their eyes outlined in black volcanic ash for the occasion, but other than those small adornments, they haven’t donned any finery. Instead of seasilk or lace, her siluess is shark’s leather. The chunk of igneous rock that pierces her husband’s nose looks like a permanent fixture, not a piece of jewelry. His torso could crush even a large man.
Finally, something interesting to tell my father. He would approve of this display of might.
Just as Lia, with her over-the-top crown of golden sunbeams, serves as a symbol of light and peace, her aunt and uncle embody military strength. A sign to the crowd that the new reign will protect them from further violence. Why haven’t these two fierce, capable warriors slit their sister- and brother-in-law’s throats and taken the throne for themselves? They could do it in a fin flick.
A shame, really. I picture them freeing the swordfish blades from their sheaths, the crowd’s cheers turning to screams as the two warriors slice through the rest of their soft, pretty family, painting the ocean with clouds of curling crimson.
I come at Lia with the dagger, only to have the human block her. He screams in agony as I ram the obsidian blade into his stomach, twisting it deeper as red blood curls into the water around the three of us.
I squint my eyes shut to banish the image as bile rises in my throat and gills. It’s the same image that wakes me night after night.
But that’s what under-eye concealer is for, right?
I need a diversion. Too bad Caspian isn’t here; at least he’s passably interesting. My fingers adjust the esslee made of my own tears that’s wound around my neck and torso and looped around my waist. I can’t believe he made this. For me. And you didn’t even say thank you, a voice inside me whispers. Well, it doesn’t matter now, not when I’m out here and he’s inside the palace, where he’ll have a front-row seat for the ceremony along with the Nautilus’ other close friends and the nobility. That’s where my father would want me to be right now, figuring out how to eel my way back into that crowd. But the thought of watching that crown go on someone else’s head … So, instead, I’m out here with the rabble.
“Isn’t this glorious?”
Speaking of rabble … The girl next to me stares up at the passing procession with eyes as round and stupid as a squirrelfish’s. She’s about my age, but that—thankfully—is where the similarity ends. Her colorless hair and plain features make the gaudy ruffles of her cheap, unsophisticated siluess even more jarring.
I don’t answer her, but she rambles on anyway (in a distinctly lower-middle class accent, the Mermese more punctuated, and less musical). “’M here with my family. My dad and older brothers. We traveled all the way from Hybressl. You know where that is? Took a spittin’ snail’s age to get here, but it was worth it. Aren’t you just so honored to be here? History in the making, this is.”
I fight hard not to cringe. The simpering fool doesn’t notice, but she does take in my fine siluess and the rubies hanging from my ears, and nods in respect. “How comes it you’re out here and not in there?” she asks, jerking her head in the direction of the palace.
I rub Caspian’s invitation stone, the turquoise cool against my skin, and come to a decision. “I’m going inside for the reception afterward.”
“You’re going to the ball? So viriss!” The girl practically squeals the slang word. “You’ll get to see them up close! Look what I have.” She brandishes her arm, bracelets floating halfway up to her elbow. Why is she showing them off when they’re made of imitation stones in garish colors?
Oh. Oh, no. Blue, green, and right at the top, gold.
“To match the new princesses’ tails! It was my best friend’s idea. We all have them. I put Princess Lia’s on top, o’course, seeing as how she saved us from the curse.”
Gag me. Do it now.
“She’s my favorite. See?” The girl gestures down at the swath of gold fabric she’s tied around her hips and wrapped tightly around the top half of her orange tail, presumably to emulate Lia’s golden scales. Ugh. Unbelievable. Many other women around us have done the same. Here and there, a few wear opalescent fabric for their new queen or green for the heir, but the overwhelming majority wear gold. I fight even harder not to cringe.
“Want some?” The girl pulls out a bag of candied seaberries and offers me some.
I’ve missed seaberries! They’re not popular Above. I take a bigger handful than she probably expected. Her problem, not mine.
While we munch on the sticky-sweet berries, she tells me her entire life story—with her mouth open. “So, we lived mostly in underground caves durin’ the war,” she says, “but now we’re rebuildin’ a house in my father’s hometown. We got the idea when one of the restoration teams visited our village. Nothin’ fancy, but there’s so much space and water flow. Did you live in hiding?”
“Yes.”
The silence stretches. I’d swim away, but she offers me the bag again. Keeping my tone casual, I say, “My parents and I moved around a lot for safety. We’d stay with one relative for a while, then when the troops got too close, we’d move in with another who lived farther out. We lived in a bunch of really remote locations until we finally went Above last year.” I take another handful.
“Above? Like Above-Above?”
Like, moron-moron?
“Wow!” she says before I have a chance to answer. “Can’t even imagine that, I can’t. What’s it like?”
“Small.”
“But peaceful, right? No fighting? Wow,” she repeats. She gestures to the Nautilus family, now dismounting the dolphins and passing through the arched entranceway to the palace. “Maybe now, we’ll get some of that down here.” She pops one last seaberry in her mouth before putting away the bag. “Everythin’s gonna be different, now. Have you heard about those scientists who were livin’ Above and now they’re workin’ on something called ekelicitry … elekicity …”
“Electricity?” I raise an eyebrow.
“That’s it! They’re using sea sponges. My dad says we’re gonna have light at night without usin’ jellyfish. That’s my dad over there.” She points to a bearded man with one young boy on his shoulders and another gripping his hand. “Oh, and I’m Marleen. Look at me splashing on and on without even makin’ proper introductions. Beggin’ your pardon.” She ducks her head and
slaps her tail up behind her but then straightens before even fully fanning out her fins in the proper greeting. “What’s your name?”
I could lie. It would be so easy …
In one elegant motion, I dip my torso forward, fanning my coral fins out wide behind my head. “Melusine,” I answer simply.
“Oh, ouch. Sorry. Must be hard now, havin’ the same name as …” Her gaze washes over me, up and down, the sight of my coral tail and black hair registering in her scallop-sized brain. No doubt descriptions of me were transmitted over low-frequency waves that played across the ocean all during the trial. The girl’s jaw drops. She looks like a bucketmouth bass. A scared bucketmouth bass. “I-I, um, promised my brothers I’d take them for a slushy. Gotta swim. Dal’rol!” She doesn’t even spit out the entire Mermese farewell before zooming off as fast as her fins can carry her, leaving a white trail in her wake. At least a few people must have overheard our conversation because whispering fills the water around me and miraculously, the crowd near me thins.
It doesn’t matter how fancy you dress up—no one wants to be too close to you, that voice inside my head hisses. You might turn on them … might corrupt them. I bite the inside of my lip. Why did I bother swimming all the way out to this frortik place just to end up talking to myself like I do back inside the gray walls at the Foundation? I don’t belong here.
No, you belong in there, I think as I stare up at the imposing, magnificent palace. I have to tell myself that’s true until I believe it again, so I repeat it in my mind as I make my way through the crowd, past the seaweed ropes, and toward the looming entrance, my invitation in hand.
At least when I’m talking to myself, I know I’m having an intelligent conversation.
Chapter Seven
Lia