by Anna Banks
Her mate is knee-deep in the water when she finally calls out to him. “Toraf ?” The way her voice cracks takes Galen off guard.
Toraf doesn’t notice. That, or he doesn’t care. “Hmm?” Toraf says, as if she doesn’t deserve the effort of a whole word.
“You … you kissed Emma.”
“Yes?” he says, glancing impatiently out to sea.
“But … but you’re mated to me.”
He shrugs. “Am I? Last time I checked, you were hurrying back to Grom to get us unsealed. I figured I wouldn’t waste any more of your time—or mine. And you have to admit, Emma’s not a bad catch.” He turns, winks at Emma. Galen launches toward him, but Emma latches onto his arm. Galen grinds his teeth.
Rayna takes small slow steps toward Toraf as if she’s approaching a feeding shark. “But I didn’t unseal us. We’re still mated.”
Toraf crosses his arms. “Really? Grom wouldn’t unseal us then?”
Rayna stops, arms hanging limply from rounded shoulders. “I didn’t ask him to.” Galen can’t see her face, but by the way the words waver, she’s fighting to stay in control, and for once it’s not of her temper.
What’s gotten into everyone? Toraf dallies on the edge of indifference. Rayna wraps her arms around herself in insecurity. And Emma … Emma hasn’t changed at all. Still beautiful and still stubborn as ever.
“I don’t know why,” Toraf says, sloshing into deeper water. “We both know it won’t work between us.”
Rayna wades in, too. “What’s not working? You said you loved me.”
His laugh is sharp. “And you split my lip for it.”
“You shouldn’t hold grudges,” she says. “Besides, you caught me off guard.”
“Off guard? I’ve been chasing you since we were fingerlings. No,” he says, shaking his head. “You were right all along. We don’t belong together. In fact, I’m going to ask Grom to unseal us myself.” Without another word, he dives in, a small piece of his tail peeking through the waves.
Rayna turns to Galen, her expression incredulous. “Is he serious?”
“He looked serious,” Galen says, just as shocked as his sister.
“Toraf, wait!” Rayna calls before throwing herself into the surf after him.
Galen and Emma stare after them as the last bit of sun sets. Galen’s not sure any of this just happened—or that he’ll ever be able to close his mouth again. How could he betray me like that? Toraf has more loyalty than a beach has sand. Or so I thought. If he was wrong about that, what else was he wrong about?
Did he misjudge Toraf’s devotion to Rayna? How could he? Toraf refused to sift, insisting Rayna was the one for him all along. He got physically sick when she turned him down the first time. No, Toraf would never treat Rayna like that. And Rayna would never chase after Toraf. Ever.
Then there’s Emma. She obviously bonded with Toraf in the three days he’s been gone. This is my fault. I should have kissed her. Should have left her with that memory instead of fighting with her to stay on shore. But what would that solve? The possibility that she’ll be kissing his brother one day is still very real. Shouldn’t he get used to her kissing someone else? But that’s different. I never planned to see her kissing Grom. In fact, he never planned to see her at all after turning her over to his brother.
Grom. Toraf also betrayed Grom. Technically, he could have just kissed his future queen. When Toraf said he wanted to get on her good side, Galen had no idea he would take it this far. But Toraf can’t expect to mate with Emma. She’s already spoken for—one way or the other.
Out of the corner of his eye, he shifts his gaze to her. Arms crossed, eyes wide. Lips and cheeks as red as a cooked lobster. He clears his throat. “How … how long has this been going on?” he asks softly.
She turns to him. “How long has what been going on?”
“You and Toraf. Kissing.”
“Oh. About ten minutes.”
Better than he’d hoped for. Relief hits him like a tsunami. If it happened the entire time he was gone … he can’t even think about it. Toraf broke Syrena law when he kissed Emma. To kiss someone other than your mate gets you ten cycles of the moon in the ice caverns. It’s considered one of the most serious offenses. If he’d kissed her all weekend, each kiss could count as an individual violation.
Still, Toraf thought Rayna unsealed them. He thought he was free to kiss anyone he wanted. But why did it have to be Emma? She’s the worst possible choice for him for more reasons than Galen can name.
As if I didn’t have enough to worry about. My kingdom is threatened by war, extinction, or both, and the only way to solve it is to give up the only thing I’ve ever really wanted. Then Toraf pulls something like this. Betrays me and my sister. Galen can’t imagine how things could get worse. So he’s not expecting it when Emma giggles.
He turns on her. “What could be funny?”
She laughs so hard she has to lean into him for support. He stiffens against the urge to wrap his arms around her. Wiping tears from her eyes, she says, “He kissed me!” The confession makes her crack up all over again.
“And you think that’s funny?”
“You don’t understand, Galen,” she says, the beginnings of hiccups robbing her of breath.
“Obviously.”
“Don’t you see? It worked!”
“All I saw was Toraf, my sister’s mate, my best friend, kissing my … my…”
“Your what?”
“Student.” Obsession.
“Your student. Wow.” Emma shakes her head then hiccups. “Well, I know you’re mad about what he did to Rayna, but he did it to make her jealous.”
Galen tries to let that sink in, but it stays on the surface like a bobber. “You’re saying he kissed you to make Rayna jealous?”
She nods, laughter bubbling up again. “And it worked! Did you see her face?”
“You’re saying he set Rayna up.” Instead of me? Galen shakes his head. “Where would he get an idea like that?”
“I told him to do it.”
Galen’s fists ball against his will. “You told him to kiss you?”
“No! Sort of. Not really though.”
“Emma—”
“I told him to play hard to get. You know, act uninterested. He came up with kissing me all on his own. I’m so proud of him!”
She thinks Toraf is a genius for kissing her. Great. “Did … did you like it?”
“I just told you I did, Galen.”
“Not his plan. The kiss.”
The delight leaves her face like a receding tide. “That’s none of your business, Highness.”
He runs a hand through his hair to keep from shaking her. And kissing her.
“Triton’s trident, Emma. Did you like it or not?”
Taking several steps back, she throws her hands on her hips. “Do you remember Mr. Pinner, Galen? World history?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Tomorrow is Monday. When I walk into Mr. Pinner’s class, he won’t ask me how I liked Toraf’s kiss. In fact, he won’t care what I did for the entire weekend. Because I’m his student. Just like I’m your student, remember?” Her hair whips to the side as she turns and walks away with that intoxicating saunter of hers. She picks up her towel and steps into her flip-flops before heading up the hill to the house.
“Emma, wait.”
“I’m tired of waiting, Galen. Good night.”
* * *
The beach used to soothe him. Like the minefields soothe Grom. Now, the moon reminds Galen of the color of Emma’s hair. The sand, of how she likes to anchor her feet into the ocean floor. Even the dune grass imitates the sway of her hips. Tonight, the beach tortures him. Like the minefields must torture Grom. And just like Grom, he can’t bring himself to leave it.
Toraf emerges from the shallow water, wearing a pair of Galen’s shorts. Galen doesn’t get up. Toraf sits beside him. Just out of reach. “You should get some sleep, minnow. Don’t you hav
e school tomorrow?”
Galen nods without looking at him. “In about three hours. Where’s my sister?”
“She’s setting up the island we found tonight.”
Galen shakes his head. “You slithering eel. You might have told me what you were up to.”
Toraf laughs. “Oh sure. ‘Hey, Galen, I need to borrow Emma for a few minutes so I can kiss her, okay?’ Didn’t see that going over very well.”
“You think your surprise attack went over better?”
Toraf shrugs. “I’m satisfied.”
“I could have killed you today.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t ever do that again.”
“Wasn’t planning on it. Thought it was real sweet of you to defend your sister’s honor. Very brotherly.” Toraf snickers.
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying.”
Galen runs a hand through his hair. “I only saw Emma. I forgot all about Rayna.”
“I know, idiot. That’s why I let you hit me fifty-eight times. That’s what I would do if someone kissed Rayna.”
“Fifty-nine times.”
“Don’t get carried away, minnow. By the way, was Emma boiling mad or just a little heated? Should I keep my distance for a while?”
Galen snorts. “She laughed so hard I thought she’d pass out. I’m the one in trouble.”
“Shocker. What’d you do?”
“The usual.” Hiding his feelings. Blurting out the wrong thing. Acting like a territorial bull shark.
Toraf shakes his head. “She won’t put up with that forever. She already thinks you only want to change her so she can become another of your royal subjects.”
“She said that?” Galen scowls. “I don’t know what’s worse. Letting her think that, or telling her the truth about why I’m helping her to change.”
“In my opinion, there’s nothing to tell her unless she can actually change. And so far, she can’t.”
“You don’t think she’s one of us?”
Toraf shrugs. “Her skin wrinkles. It’s kind of gross. Maybe she’s some sort of superhuman. You know, like Batman.”
Galen laughs. “How do you know about Batman?”
“I saw him on that black square in your living room. He can do all sorts of things other humans can’t do. Maybe Emma is like him.”
“Batman isn’t real. He’s just a human acting like that so other humans will watch him.”
“Looked real to me.”
“They’re good at making it look real. Some humans spend their whole lives making something that isn’t real look like something that is.”
“Humans are creepier than I thought. Why pretend to be something you’re not?”
Galen nods. To take over a kingdom, maybe? “Actually, that reminds me. Grom needs you.”
Toraf groans. “Can it wait? Rayna’s getting all cozy on our island right about now.”
“Seriously. I don’t want to know.”
Toraf grins. “Right. Sorry. But you can see my point, right? I mean, if Emma were waiting for you—”
“Emma wouldn’t be waiting for me. I wouldn’t have left.”
“Rayna made me. You’ve never hit me that hard before. She wants us to get along. Plus, there’s something I need to tell you, but I didn’t exactly get a chance to.”
“What?”
“Yesterday when we were practicing in front of your house, I sensed someone. Someone I don’t know. I made Emma get out of the water while I went to investigate.”
“And she listened to you?”
Toraf nods. “Turns out, you’re the only one she disobeys. Anyway, I followed the pulse.”
“Who was it?”
“The pulse disappeared before I got there.”
“Got where?”
“Emma’s house, Galen. Fresh footsteps marked the sand from the water to the house. That’s why the pulse disappeared—it left the water.”
“You’re a Tracker. You’ve been introduced to every Syrena from both houses. How can there be someone you can’t identify?”
“Obviously, I haven’t been introduced to everyone. I’m telling you, I’ve never felt that pulse before. Emma didn’t recognize it either. Not that I’d expect her to.”
Galen pinches the bridge of his nose. Emma wouldn’t recognize it because she has held a grudge against water all these years. If there were Syrena living nearby, they wouldn’t have sensed her until now. He shakes his head. “Someone must know about her. I need to go over there right now. She’s alone. Her mom works at night.” The dread he feels all over bottlenecks like a dam in his throat. “Toraf, you need to go to Grom. Tonight. Right now. You need to find Paca before this stranger gets to Emma.”
“Jagen’s daughter? What does she have to do with Emma?”
Galen stands. “Jagen claims Paca has the Gift of Poseidon. If that’s true, I’m going to make sure she’s Grom’s mate, instead of Emma. But that won’t happen if someone—whoever this is—gets to Emma before you get to Paca.”
“Galen—”
“I know, it’s a long shot. But it’s no more unbelievable than Emma having the Gift. And it’s the only hope I have.”
Toraf nods as understanding takes hold. “Okay. If she’s alive, I’ll find her, Galen. I swear I will.”
“If there’s anyone who can do it, it’s you. And send Rayna to me while you’re gone.”
17
BEING A straight-A student doesn’t guarantee anyone common sense. I’m no exception. By the time I figure out the steam in the bathroom means the shower is getting hot—I just can’t feel it because of my Syrena flesh—Mom has called a repairman. Making up a story even a kindergartner wouldn’t believe is my only option. Somehow Mom buys it—along with the service-fee repairmen charge when teenage girls waste their time and gas.
This all lends to my new theory—hitting my head triggered my Syrena instincts. All the changes in my life seem to center around that. More than hitting my head. Whatever happened to me at Galen’s house—seeing spots, getting dizzy—seemed to seal the deal. That night symbolizes the firsts and lasts of a lot of things.
The first time I held my breath longer than an Olympic swimmer. The last time I took a hot shower. The first time I could see in pitch-black water. The last time I trusted Galen. The first time I sensed another Syrena. The last time I hated Rayna. The first and the last time I put my head through hurricane-proof glass. The list of correlations to that night is as long as the Jersey coast.
And so is the list of reasons I shouldn’t be looking forward to seeing him at school. But I can’t help it. He’s already texted me three times this morning: Can I pick u up for school? and Do u want 2 have breakfast? and R u getting my texts? My thumbs want to answer “yes” to all of the above, but my dignity demands that I don’t answer at all. He called me his student. He stood there alone with me on the beach and told me he thinks of me as a pupil. That our relationship is platonic. And everyone knows what platonic means—rejected.
Well, I might be his student, but I’m about to school him on a few things. The first lesson of the day is Silent Treatment 101.
So when I see him in the hall, I give him a polite nod and brush right by him. The zap from the slight contact never quite fades, which means he’s following me. I make it to my locker before his hand is on my arm. “Emma.” The way he whispers my name sends goose bumps all the way to my baby toes. But I’m still in control.
I nod to him, dial the combination to my locker, then open it in his face. He moves back before contact. Stepping around me, he leans his hand against the locker door and turns me around to face him. “That’s not very nice.”
I raise my best you-started-this brow.
He sighs. “I guess that means you didn’t miss me.”
There are so many things I could pop off right now. Things like, “But at least I had Toraf to keep me company” or “You were gone”? Or “Don’t feel bad, I didn’t miss my calculus teacher either.” But the goal i
s to say nothing. So I turn around.
I transfer books and papers between my locker and backpack. As I stab a pencil into my updo, his breath pushes against my earlobe when he chuckles. “So your phone’s not broken; you just didn’t respond to my texts.”
Since rolling my eyes doesn’t make a sound, it’s still within the boundaries of Silent Treatment 101. So I do this while I shut my locker. As I push past him, he grabs my arm. And I figure if stomping on his toe doesn’t make a sound …
“My grandmother’s dying,” he blurts.
Commence with the catching-Emma-off-guard crap. How can I continue Silent Treatment 101 after that? He never mentioned his grandmother before, but then again, I never mentioned mine either. “I’m sorry, Galen.” I put my hand on his, give it a gentle squeeze.
He laughs. Complete jackass. “Conveniently, she lives in a condo in Destin and her dying request is to meet you. Rachel called your mom. We’re flying out Saturday afternoon, coming back Sunday night. I already called Dr. Milligan.”
“Un-freaking-believable.”
* * *
I stare at the Gulf of Mexico from our hotel-room window. Today’s storm made the white beach look like sugared oatmeal, the rain dimpling the sand and making it clumpy. The freakish turbulence from that same storm also made Galen sick on the plane.
I glance to the hideous love seat, where he’s sleeping off the nausea. Judging by his rhythmic snores, the tiny couch isn’t as uncomfortable as it looks. That, or projectile puking takes so much energy, you don’t care where you collapse afterward.
The sun is setting, but we still have a while before we meet up with Dr. Milligan at the Gulfarium. He wants us to come after closing to make sure we have plenty of privacy for the tests. That’s another five hours.
With time to kill, I change into my bathing suit and head to the beach, careful not to wake Galen. He needs his rest, and besides, I need some time to think. Plus, the rain scattered the remnants of tourists, so there won’t be any witnesses in case I grow a fin at an inopportune time.
Peeling off my shirt, I wade in. I don’t know how close I am to where Chloe died. I didn’t recognize the hotels around us, but the place Rachel booked for us is more luxurious than the affordable-enough room Chloe’s parents reserved. It doesn’t matter. Chloe isn’t here.
