Immerse

by Tobie Easton

  I won’t?

  “She won’t?” Disbelief colors Lia’s voice.

  Caspian shakes his head, his blond hair dancing around it in the water. “She wouldn’t do anything that would hurt Clay’s chances of shaping the future he wants for himself. She wants to make amends for what she did to him.” He looks to me, his face so trusting. “Right?”

  While making Lia twist with fear has felt deliciously satisfying, and ruining her plan would probably feel even more deserved and delightful, the idea of hurting Clay … again … I never wanted to hurt Clay. I did it because I was convinced it was the best thing for Merkind, but pain was a means to that end, not a goal. Clay never did anything to me. It’s not his fault he’s related to that long-ago prince. And while I’d love to blame him for the high crime of falling in love with Lia, good men certainly have before him. My gaze darts to Caspian, who awaits my response.

  I meant what I told him the night I gave him that letter to deliver to Clay—and I meant every word I wrote in it. I’m sorry for hurting Clay. Deeply, painfully, self-questioningly sorry.

  “I won’t tell,” I say, meeting Lia’s eyes for the briefest of seconds before focusing on the wave pattern decorating the wall behind her. “Clay should get to make his own choices.”

  The way Lia’s jaw drops brings its own new breed of satisfaction. I square my shoulders.

  Besides, it’s not like her plan has anything to do with me anyway. Let her and Clay try whatever ill-advised, inevitably dangerous scheme they choose. Aside from (an admittedly fervent) curiosity to see whether they could really manage it, why should I care when it doesn’t concern me in the least?

  While Lia wades in front of me in shock, her eyes narrowed suspiciously like I must be up to something, Caspian swims closer to me.

  “What were you waiting to talk to me about, Melusine?” He’s changing the subject on purpose, but it’s the one I should be devoting my attention to anyway. “Your father?” he guesses.

  I nod. “All they would tell me is that they captured him. But they wouldn’t answer any of my questions or tell me if, if he’s … okay.”

  Lia finds her voice again. “If you really want to ‘make amends,’” the phrase drips with skepticism, “you should ask yourself why you care so much about that criminal.”

  “He’s her father,” Caspian says, his voice stern, before her words can fully swim out of her mouth. Her gaze drops to her golden fins. It’s nice to have him reprove Lia for once. If he can like her even though she says heartless things sometimes …

  “He’s okay,” Caspian tell me, his deep voice almost as soothing as the content it carries. The fear that’s been clutching at my insides since the guards first spoke an hour ago finally loosens its grip and lets me breathe. “They captured him near Diskkana in the North.” Diskkana? He must have been hiding in my uncle’s house. It’s far. I guess that means they didn’t capture him because he came back for me. “They’re going to bring him here as soon as a storm up there passes. He’ll be safe that way.”

  And he won’t be able to escape again in the distraction of the storm, I think, filling in the details Caspian is too polite to say aloud.

  Then he says, “I asked Mrs.—I mean, the queen and king—what his arrest would mean for you.”

  Caspian asked about me? “You did?”

  He offers me a small smile and its twin sprouts on my face. “They’re not going to force you to go back and live at the Foundation. They said they’re going to talk to your tutor and your therapist about what’s best for you. They’re reasonable, so I’m sure if you have a preference for where you want to live and continue your education, they’ll …” he pauses, a pensive expression taking hold of his handsome features, but then he picks up where he left off, “I’m sure they’ll consider what you have to say.”

  “Yay, great.” Lia’s sarcasm cuts in before I can thank him or ask what’s on his mind. “Are you done comforting her now, because I could really use your help? Casp,” her voice grows sincere, and whiny, again, “if I miss my one chance to do this for Clay, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.”

  Oh, boohoo, cry me an esslee. I should leave before the storm of guilt and righteousness starts.

  “That’s why we need to …” Lia’s eyes widen as she looks back at Caspian. “What is it?”

  “What? Nothing,” he says.

  “No, not nothing. Don’t nothing me. You have your idea-face.”

  She’s right, he does. What’s he thinking? And why is he trying to hide it?

  “No, I—”

  “Yes, you do. Casp, what is it? Please don’t lie—not to me. Not when it could be important.”

  Guilt passes over his face. Unlike me, he hates lying. “Look, I do have an idea, but I don’t want to tell you what it is because I don’t want you and Clay rushing into this decision.”

  “We’ve been going over this for months,” Lia says, trying and failing to keep exasperation out of her voice. “We’re not rushing into anything. You need to trust me and Clay enough to know we take this seriously and we’ve thought it through.”

  “I do trust you. It’s just such a big decision. And the idea itself … Just because it popped into my head doesn’t mean it’s safe. In fact, it’s probably the opposite. I don’t know enough about the magic that would be involved, but I do know it’s a risk, and I don’t want you attempting it because of me.”

  Her frustration melts. “I get that you worry about me. And I appreciate it. But Caspian, you wouldn’t be so hesitant to tell me unless you really thought your idea could work, so I need to know what it is. And then it’ll be my choice and Clay’s whether we want to do it.”

  Indecision still clouds his face.

  “By not telling me, you’re basically trying to control me and Clay,” she says.

  She actually has a point. Not that I think trying to control people is a bad thing in every circumstance, but Caspian isn’t manipulative, so I bet he does.

  “Isn’t that what you’re always telling me I shouldn’t do to people?” Lia asks.

  That does it. “Fine, I’ll tell you. But for the record, I’m not condoning this course of action.”

  She nods. “I understand. It’s on me.” She glances over at me, then says to him, “I’d feel better if you waited to tell me until Melusine left.” To me she says, “This really isn’t any of your business.”

  To tell the truth, I’m curious, but if I try to stay and Caspian asks me to leave, I’ll lose face in front of Lia. That’s not worth it just to hear some idea that doesn’t have even a drop to do with me. I swim toward the door.

  “As fun as this has been, I have no urge to stay and watch you two bicker over the ins-and-outs of this little scheme like an old married couple.” Then, just because I can’t resist the urge to make Lia squirm on her hook one more time, I throw over my shoulder, “Caspian, maybe we can meet in the Magic Department again later and sort some more scrolls?” As much as I want to, I don’t look at her face, just glide to the door.

  Until a hand on my shoulder stops me. Caspian’s, warm and strong. “Wait.”

  “Oh, let her go,” Lia says. “Then we can finally get back to what matters.”

  “No,” Caspian says, his hand still on my shoulder. I look up from his grip to his pensive face. “Stay?” he asks me.

  “Why?” I ask without turning fully around. Why does he want me to stay when at this very moment Lia’s glare burns into my back, prodding me to go away?

  “Because my idea includes you.” Caspian glances between me and Lia. “And you’re both going to hate it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Lia

  “NO!” Melusine and I respond in unison after Caspian shares his idea. Our eyes meet in mutual distrust. Have we ever agreed with each other before?

  “Twenty gallons of no,” I reiterate. “No way. Not happening.”

  “Definitely not,” Melusine says, looking at Caspi
an like’s he one of those radioactive, two-headed fish. “It’s ludicrous.”

  It is. Even if it’s also … logical.

  “Good,” Caspian says, his shoulders dipping with relief. “Now you’ve heard what it is, and neither of you want to do it, so we can all move on.”

  He asked us to sit before he told us this … idea of his, so now Caspian and I, and Melusine, are in his sitting area. Melusine is back in that armchair she hid behind like a water snake earlier, and Caspian and I are on opposite ends of a small couch. After he shirked off my touch earlier, I want to give him space, but I also refuse to sit in the other armchair, next to her.

  “Look, Casp …” I flounder to put this in a way that won’t insult him. “I’m struggling to even understand why you would think this might work. You, of all people. They planned to kill you, remember?” And now he thinks they’ll help? “It’s kind of—”

  “Reckless. Completely reckless,” Melusine finishes, tossing my attempt at diplomacy out the amber window. “I’d expect this from her,” she says, throwing a contemptuous hand in my direction, “but not from you.” She searches his face with a familiarity that makes my jaw clench.

  “I said I didn’t want to say it!” He turns to me. “I told you that just because I had an idea didn’t mean it was a good one. It’s a plan that entails a great deal more risk than I’m comfortable with, and I’m not saying I want us to do it.” Us? When did “us” start including Melusine? There is so much wrong with this conversation. “But I do think that based on all the factors at play here, it’s our only option.”

  “It’s not my anything,” Melusine says. “I’m not the one trying to do the impossible. What do I care if she can’t manage to turn her boyfriend Mer?”

  “Then what are you even still doing here?” I snap at her.

  “Caspian asked me to stay.” A sea snake’s smile twists Melusine’s lips. “This is his room.” She settles back in the armchair like she belongs there.

  Caspian interjects before I can respond. “Well, now that we’ve decided my idea can’t work, we can all leave.”

  “Wait,” I say. “I want to know what makes you think it’s our only option.”

  He scrubs a hand over his face. Then something flashes in his eyes. An eagerness, like maybe if he tells me why this plan I hate is my last resort, I’ll finally give up on the idea of making Clay Mer. Fat chance. But hey, if it keeps him talking. I lean in, show him I’m listening. “Lia, you need to learn how to use the dagger to transform Clay, and you’ve tried everything you can think of to figure it out magically on your own, right?”

  “Right.” And failed miserably. But I don’t state that obvious fact because … Melusine, right there where she shouldn’t be.

  “Normally, I would suggest researching for as long as it takes until we found another lead,” he says, “but any reference materials on a spell that ancient and dangerous have probably been deliberately destroyed or lost to time, so finding anything useful, if you even could, would take months, maybe years.”

  “When all I have is days.” The first flutterings of panic that started when I heard news of Mr. Havelock’s imminent return intensify behind my breastbone. He’s right.

  “Couldn’t you ask someone who knows a lot about magic for help?” Melusine asks. I gawk at her. Is she actually trying to contribute? “I mean,” her voice takes on a bored indifference, “wouldn’t people be falling all over themselves to help the savior of Merkind?” She says “savior” like she’s laughing at me. “Caspian’s grandmother, for instance. She runs the entire Magic Department.”

  I shake my head. “She’s the only one in the palace who might be able to understand the intricacies of the original spell enough to tweak them for Clay, but it’s doubtful. Her specialty is potions, not rituals, and she doesn’t know much about the dagger itself or how it was created. Most of all—”

  “We can’t trust her,” Caspian says before I have to. “Not with this. I love her and she’s wonderful, but she cares about peace for Merkind above everything, so she’d do anything to make sure your parents’ reign runs smoothly. She may see turning Clay Mer as an unnecessary complication. I hate to say it, but she’d most likely—”

  “Tell my parents what I’m planning. Yeah, that’s why I didn’t go to her for help restoring Clay’s memories. Even if she could’ve helped, which was a big if, I didn’t think she would.”

  “That’s why I said—”

  “Yeah, you’re right about that.” I shift on the couch to face him. “The only person in the Seven Seas who would definitely understand the dagger’s magic deeply enough to help us and wouldn’t tell my parents before Clay’s transformation was Ondine.” Her name evokes an image that surfaces in my mind: a mermaid so beautiful she looked like she’d glided out of the pages of fairytale on her ice blue tail. Streaks of that same mystical blue shone in white-blond hair that hung well past her waist, and shards of clear crystal sparkled around gray eyes set in an exquisite, doll-like face. Ondine had spent her entire life devoted to preserving ancient magics and studying the spells of Himeropa—the Sea Sorceress herself.

  “She planned two highly advanced rituals that revolved around understanding the power of the Sea Sorceress’s dagger—successfully,” Caspian says. “But I don’t like the thought of—”

  “Wait,” Melusine says. “Ondine designed the ritual for my father and me to reclaim control of the curse and restore immortality.” Which would have worked as intended if I’d never come to stop them before they could kill Clay as their sacrifice. “But what’s the second ritual with the dagger?”

  I feel no urge to satisfy the curiosity of an attempted murderer, so it’s Caspian who answers. “The spell Ondine created to restore Clay’s memories was based on the one the Sea Sorceress used to imbue the dagger with its power. Right?”

  “Yeah,” I answer. “We imbued Clay with memories instead. It worked because he’d been stabbed with that same dagger, which was intended for his ancestor, so Clay and the dagger share a mythical connection.”

  “So really, you should be thanking me,” Melusine says. “If it weren’t for me, you never could have restored his memories.”

  “You want me to thank you for stabbing my boyfriend in the stomach?”

  She shrugs. I’d like to stab her. Or at least pull her hair. Hard. To keep my emotions in check, I focus on Caspian. “I agree that Ondine could probably have arrived at a solution within minutes. But not only is she evil,” I say the next part right at Melusine, “and we don’t trust evil people to help us, but she also disappeared without a trace, and …” A gray face falling, falling, falling away from me through the dark water toward the sea floor. “… she’s probably dead.”

  “I know. I’m just saying her knowledge didn’t die with her, even if I wish it had,” Caspian says. “She taught it to her advanced magic students in secret. That’s my point.”

  He leans forward, elbows on his silver lap, and adds, “Those girls are the only ones who could possibly help you. And they’re potentially dangerous enough that you should stay away from them.” He looks me square in the face, his voice serious. “So Lia, no matter how much you and Clay want this, you should let it go.”

  “You’re right,” I tell him. Surprise and relief flood him in equal measure. “Those girls are my only chance.” His relief disappears and he tenses all over again, but I start talking before he can. “They’ve spent years with Ondine studying not only ancient, complex magic, but Himeropa’s ancient, complex magic. There’s a very good chance they’d come up with my answer.” An answer Clay desperately needs.

  But there’s no way they’d ever tell me, the girl who destroyed all their magic before Ondine could use it to kill Caspian. “The problem is, they hate me,” I say.

  “Which is why the only person they might confide the dagger’s secrets to,” Caspian says, nodding his blond head toward the armchair, “is the one person known across the ocean to hate you
more than they do.”

  As much as I don’t want to, I bring my gaze to rest on Melusine. If she doesn’t agree to help me, I won’t find a solution in time and Clay will never be a Merman. I swallow, my panic insuppressible now. How can all my future happiness rest on my enemy’s fins?

  When I dare to meet her eyes, Melusine stares back at me with disdain.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Melusine

  “I said no. I won’t do it.”

  “I thought you said you wanted Clay to be able to make his own choices about his future?” Lia asks from her seat on the couch. She glances at Caspian, as if to say, See? I told you Melusine was lying.

  I speak slowly, so even Lia can understand me. “Not telling on you, and agreeing to involve myself in some dangerous, rash plan are two different things. You want to make your human boyfriend Mer? Do it yourself.” Caspian thought up this idea, and his nervous expression tells me even he isn’t keen on going through with it, so why would I consider it? Because Lia wants me to? That’ll be the day.

  “See, Casp?” Lia whines. “She’ll never help. We’re wasting time. We have to think up another way.” Caspian looks at the floor instead of meeting her eyes. She studies him and says, “But you don’t think there is another way, do you?”

  He hesitates, biting his full lower lip, which distracts me more than it should. Finally, he says, “Not one you’ll find in time.” The truth of her situation settles on her face and he leans toward her, his expression kind. “But hey, maybe … maybe that’s not a bad thing. Lia, turning Clay into a Merman, it’s such a huge step. It’ll affect him for the rest of his life—and he’ll be immortal! I know you say you’ve both spent months thinking about it, but Clay’s still so young and—”

  “He’s the same age you are.” Her tone gets defensive.

  “I know. And there’s no way I’d feel ready to make a decision like that. One that would change me forever, and that I could never take back.” I remember Caspian’s face, wrought with indecision, as we talked about his job options, and that choice was droplets compared to the one Clay wants to make.