Of Poseidon

by Anna Banks

  Galen helps Emma up and swats the leftover sand out of her sundress. He takes her hands into his. “Could I please just ask one thing without you getting all mad about it?”

  She scowls. “Let me guess. You don’t want me to get in the water while you’re gone.”

  “But I’m not ordering you to stay out of it. I’m asking, no begging, very politely, and with all my heart for you not to get it in. It’s your choice. But it would make me the happiest man-fish on the coast if you wouldn’t.” They sense the stalker almost daily now. That and the fact that Dr. Milligan blew his theory about Emma’s dad being a Half-Breed out of the water makes Galen more nervous than he can say. It means they still don’t have any answers about who could know about Emma. Or why they keep hanging around.

  Emma rewards him with a breathtaking smile. “I won’t. Because you asked.”

  Toraf was right. I just had to ask. He shakes his head. “Now I can sleep tonight.”

  “That makes one of us. Don’t stay gone too long. Or Mark will sit by me at lunch.”

  He grimaces. “I’ll hurry.” He leans down to kiss her. Behind them, he hears Rayna’s initial splash.

  “She’s leaving without you,” Emma whispers on his lips.

  “She could have left hours ago and I’d still catch her. Good-bye, angelfish. Be good.” He places a forceful kiss on her forehead, then gets a running start and dives in.

  And he misses her already.

  * * *

  Galen finds Grom exactly where he shouldn’t be—the minefield. Hours before his mating ceremony, he still sulks for his lost love. But who is Galen to judge? His brother is mating with someone he doesn’t love—which enables Galen to be with someone he does.

  Grom greets him with a smile full of nausea. “I’m not ready for this, little brother,” he confesses.

  “Sure you are,” Galen laughs, slapping his brother’s back.

  Grom shakes his head. “It feels like … like I’m betraying her. Nalia.”

  Galen stiffens. Oh. He doesn’t feel qualified to talk Grom out of this kind of mood. “I’m sure she would understand,” he offers.

  Grom studies him thoughtfully. “I’d like to think she would. But you didn’t know Nalia. She had an amazing temper.” He chuckles. “I keep looking over my shoulder, expecting to see her ready to bludgeon me with something for mating with someone else.”

  Galen frowns, unsure of what to say.

  Grom chuckles. “I’m joking, of course.” Then he shrugs. “Well, half joking, anyway. I swear I’ve been sensing her lately, Galen. It feels so real. It takes all I’ve got not to follow the pulse. Do you think I’m losing my mind?”

  Galen shakes his head out of obligation. Secretly though, he thinks he might be. “I’m sure you’re just feeling guilty. Er … not that you have a reason to feel guilty. Uh, it’s just natural that you feel that way before your mating ceremony. Nerves and all.” Galen runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”

  “What sort of thing? Being mature?” Grom smirks.

  “Funny.”

  “Maybe you should spend some more time on land, then come back and talk to me. Being on land ages you, you know. Might do you some good.”

  Galen snorts. Now you tell me. “I heard.”

  Out of nowhere, Grom grabs Galen’s face and wrestles him into a hold. Galen hates it when he does this. “Let me see that cute little face of yours, minnow. Yep, just like I thought. Your eyes are turning blue. How much time have you been spending on land? Please tell me you’re not head over fin for a human!” Then he laughs and releases him just as suddenly.

  Galen stares at him. “What do you mean?”

  “I was just teasing, minnow. Giving you a hard time.”

  “I know but … why did you say my eyes are turning blue? What does that have to do with the humans?”

  Grom waves a dismissive hand at him. “Forget it. I think you might be more uptight than me right now. I said I was just kidding.”

  “Grom, if it’s something about the humans, I need to know. I’m ambassador. You’re keeping me from doing my job.” Galen’s voice is more calm than he feels. He remembers the painting on the wall in Tartessos. The Syrena whose eyes looked blue instead of violet.

  “Triton’s trident, Galen. It’s got nothing to do with your responsibility as ambassador. It’s just a rumor. In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it before.”

  Galen crosses his arms. “Well, I haven’t.”

  Grom rolls his eyes. “You’re right. You’re not very good at this sort of thing. The legend is that sometimes when Syrena spend a lot of time on land, their eyes fade to blue. It’s just a myth, minnow. Calm down. Your eyes aren’t turning blue.”

  Maybe I do spend too much time on land. I know more about human history than Syrena history.

  “What are you two up to?” a feminine voice calls from behind them. They turn to see Paca.

  Galen cringes on the inside. Paca shouldn’t be here. She might be Grom’s mate in a few hours, but this place is sacred. He sees his brother stiffen by his side. Then he feels Rayna’s pulse approaching. Jagen’s pulse is close behind her. Something feels off.

  “Hello, Paca,” Galen says politely. “We were just about to come see you, weren’t we, Grom?” Paca is not ugly, but she’s not pretty either. Plain would be a good word to describe her. But not just plain. There’s something about the look in her eyes that makes her less innocent, less deserving than plain. Plain could be pitied. But Paca doesn’t incite pity from Galen.

  “I hope you were going to come pry your sister off my back,” Paca clips as Rayna swims up. “She’s quite rude.”

  Galen throws Rayna a look, to which she lifts her chin. “Paca and her pudgy father over there are full of whale dung,” Rayna informs her brothers.

  “Rayna,” Grom barks. “Mind your manners.”

  Rayna lifts her chin even higher. Here we go. “Paca is a fraud, Grom,” she says. “You can’t mate with her. Sorry to ruin your ceremony. Let’s go, Galen.”

  Paca gasps as Jagen swims up to the party, almost stuttering in his fury. “You little … little stonefish! How dare you insult my daughter?”

  Galen grabs Rayna’s arm. “What did you do?” he hisses.

  She jerks her arm away and gives him a superior look. “If Paca has the Gift of Poseidon, I have the Gift of Triton. Don’t ask me what it is though, because I don’t have a clue.”

  “Rayna, enough!” Grom says, grabbing her other arm. “Apologize. Right now.”

  “Apologize for what? Telling the truth? Sorry, not feeling it.” She shrugs, but doesn’t struggle to free herself from Grom’s grasp.

  “How can you say she’s a fraud? She just showed you her Gift!” Jagen says, slicing a hand through the water in frustration.

  Rayna snorts. “She didn’t show Galen the Gift. Galen, have you seen her demonstrate the Gift? Let her show you the Gift.” She turns to Paca. “Did you hear what I said, Princess Cheater-Cheater-Whale-Dung-Eater? Show my brother your pathetic Gift.”

  Paca’s eyes are full of murder. She looks at Grom. “Do something about your sister. You’re going to let her insult me right in front of you? Is this how I can expect to be treated when I’m mated to you?”

  Rayna laughs. “You bet your sweet—”

  “Rayna!” Galen says. “Enough!”

  She rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anything else. Galen turns to Paca. Trying to sound apologetic, he says, “Please excuse my sister’s lack of…”

  “Sanity?” Paca offers icily.

  Galen smiles. Sort of. “Paca, of course, I would love to see you demonstrate the Gift of Poseidon. Would you be so kind as to show me? We’ve heard such amazing things about it already from Toraf.”

  This seems to placate Paca and Jagen. A little. Grom even loosens his grip on Rayna.

  Paca bows low, a sign of deep respect for Galen. It takes all he has not to roll his eyes. “Of course, you
ng prince. Please follow me.” She leads them a considerable distance from the minefield, which surprises Galen.

  They pass all sorts of fish she could have demonstrated the Gift on. After each one they pass, Rayna’s expression gets smugger and smugger, if that’s even possible.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Galen whispers for her ears only.

  She winks at him, of all things. “You’ll see,” she mouths back.

  They swim far enough to reach the shelf that leads to shallow water. This all seems like a lot of trouble for just a tiny demonstration, but Galen goes along with it because it doesn’t seem fair that Grom should frown on the day of his mating ceremony.

  “Paca, maybe we could stop here for the demonstration. We’ll need to get back soon; you don’t want to keep everyone waiting for the ceremony,” Galen says.

  “We’re almost there,” she calls over her shoulder. Galen looks at Rayna, but she’s not saying anything. She’s just smiling like she really has misplaced her sanity.

  When they pass the shelf into shallow water, she stops. Finally. “Just a moment,” she says. “I’m going to call them.”

  She shoots up to the surface.

  Galen looks at Jagen. “Call who?”

  Jagen smiles. “The dolphins, young prince.”

  Rayna still won’t make eye contact with Galen, so he’s forced to wait—impatiently—for Paca to return with her pod. After a few minutes, she comes back, three dolphins flanking her.

  “I can make them jump out of the water, swim in circles, or swim at each other,” she says to Galen. “Take your pick.”

  What? He throws an incredulous glare at Rayna, who returns a rare, humongous smile full of teeth.

  “Grom likes to see them swim in circles, my dear,” Jagen says. “Why don’t you make them do that? Our young prince obviously can’t make up his mind.”

  Paca turns to her dolphin friends and says, “Circles!” Then she draws a huge circle with her hands, over and over. The dolphins comply.

  Galen gasps. Oh, no. Hand signals. She’s using hand signals like the trainers at the Gulfarium. Rayna must have recognized it.

  Jagen apparently mistakes Galen’s gasp for awe. “It’s quite astonishing, isn’t it, my prince?” he says with a knowing smile.

  “Very,” he chokes out. He clears his throat. “Paca, what about these flounder here on the bottom? What can you make them do?”

  Paca sulks. “I thought you wanted to see the dolphins.”

  “You’ve done well with them. Very well. But I’d like to see the flounders do something funny. Can you make them swim in circles, too?”

  “My prince, that’s not how the Gift of Poseidon works,” Jagen cuts in. “It’s limited to certain—”

  “Liar!” Rayna yells, startling everyone. The dolphins get skittish and dart.

  “Rayna,” Grom says.

  “Ow,” she wails. “You’re hurting me.”

  Galen sighs, his heart sinking. “Let her go, Grom. She’s telling the truth. Paca doesn’t have the Gift of Poseidon.” Grom releases her and scowls at his brother. Rayna swims to the sanctity of Galen’s back.

  “Don’t tell me she’s talked you into her little game,” Grom tells him.

  “This is outrageous!” Jagen bellows. “Grom, you need to get your siblings under control before I do it myself.”

  Galen rolls his eyes. Jagen is over 150 years old. If he wants to tussle with Galen, he’s more than welcome to come closer. “Grom, the Gift of Poseidon isn’t limited to a few species of fish. The Gift was meant to feed all of us. What about the Cave of Memories? There are no dolphins that deep. How would she feed the Archives if she needed to?”

  Grom crosses his arms, his face like stone. “I think you need to stick to what you know best, little brother. The humans. And take your sister with you. I can’t look at her.”

  “What?” Galen says, swimming closer to his brother. “You’re telling me to leave?”

  “You’ve both caused enough hard feelings today. We’ll have a long talk about it after the ceremony.”

  “That’s what we’re trying to tell you!” Rayna says. “There shouldn’t be a mating ceremony.”

  “Rayna,” Galen says gently. “I’ll handle this. Please.”

  “No, you won’t, Galen,” Grom says. “You’ve insulted my future queen—your future queen—all over your own narrow-minded opinion.”

  “My opinion?” Galen says, irate.

  “Watch your tone, brother. Don’t make me expel you. It’s just your opinion unless you can prove otherwise. There’s no evidence to say Paca doesn’t have the Gift of Poseidon.”

  Expel me? “She’s using her hands!” Galen shouts. “She’s trained those dolphins to respond to hand signals. The real Gift of Poseidon is by voice alone.”

  Grom raises a brow. “Really? Can you prove it?”

  Galen opens his mouth, then shuts it again. Not without Emma. “Well—”

  “No, he can’t prove it,” Rayna blurts. She won’t look at Galen, even though he’s staring her down. What is she doing?

  She swims over to him. “He’ll never believe you about Emma, Galen,” she whispers. “Don’t even tell them. He won’t stop the ceremony to wait for you to go get her. Look at him. He’s made up his mind,” she whispers.

  “I know he can’t prove it,” Grom growls. “And if he could, then he should have brought it to everyone’s attention sooner. It’s a little late to take an interest in it now, don’t you think?”

  “Why are you doing this? Why are you being so hardheaded?” Galen says. “Is this about Nalia? Taking a mate won’t make you forget about her. I hope that’s not what you’re trying to do.”

  It’s Rayna’s turn to gasp. Galen crossed the line, but he doesn’t care. Grom is being very unreasonable. Grom is being very un-Grom.

  Grom becomes stiff and cold as an iceberg. “Leave. Both of you. Now.”

  “That’s it then?” Galen says lacing his hands behind his head. “We’re expelled?”

  Grom nods slowly.

  “Let’s go, Rayna.” Galen says, still looking at Grom. “Let’s go home.”

  * * *

  By the time they reach shore, Galen’s exhausted. In a hurry to see Emma, he’d carried Rayna on his back the whole way home for the sake of speed. He finds a pair of trunks he’d anchored under a rock and pulls them on. Rayna finds her own pair of bottoms a few yards down.

  He didn’t sense Emma or Toraf in the water, so he makes his way for the house, hoping against hope Emma is there for some reason, waiting for him. She isn’t. But Toraf is. And he doesn’t look happy.

  “How’d it go? We need to talk,” Toraf blurts.

  Galen stops cold. “Where’s Emma? Is she okay?”

  “She’s home with her mom. She’s fine. But there’s a problem.”

  “In case you didn’t notice, I’m not interrupting you,” Galen says, his jaw clenched so tight it might lock up. “Feel free to keep talking.”

  Toraf wrings his hands. “Don’t get too upset.”

  “Too late.”

  “Fine, be upset then. But I did it for your own good.”

  “Triton’s trident, Toraf!” Rayna shouts. “What did you do? We’ve had a long day!”

  Toraf lets his breath out in a gust. “I asked Yudor to come and help me. I explained that I either didn’t recognize the stalker, or that I was getting the stalker’s pulse mixed up with someone else’s. I didn’t tell him anything else.”

  “You what?” Galen’s already balling his fists.

  Toraf holds up his palms in a show of peace. “Galen, he recognized her immediately.”

  “Emma?” Galen breathes. This can’t be happening.

  “No. The stalker.”

  “Wait,” Rayna says. “Her? Her who?”

  “Galen,” Toraf says. “It’s Nalia. Yudor swears on Triton’s memory it is. She’s not dead. He’s on his way back to stop the mating ceremony.”

  Nalia. It all comes together
as if the pieces of the puzzle were suddenly jarred into place.

  Galen tears through the living room and to the beach, Toraf and Rayna close behind him.

  * * *

  Emma’s house illuminates the top of the sand dunes in front of it. That usually means Emma and her mother are both home, living separate lives in separate rooms.

  Galen sprints to the back sliding-glass door and bangs on it. There’s no time for etiquette. He motions for Rayna and Toraf to stay back. He can tell Rayna would rather eat her own ear than obey, but Toraf restrains her.

  Emma comes to the door, a brilliant smile on her face. “You in a hurry for some reason?” she says, excitement lighting up those huge violet eyes.

  “He must have missed me,” Emma’s mom calls from the kitchen. She winks at Galen, completely oblivious to how her world is about to shift.

  “Mom. Ew,” Emma says, handing Galen a towel and shutting the door.

  “Thanks,” he tells her. “For the towel, I mean.”

  “Something wrong?” From her expression, he must look as anxious as he feels.

  He brushes her cheek with the back of his hand. “I love you. More than you know. No matter what happens.”

  She turns to kiss his palm. “Uh-oh. No matter what happens? That’s kind of morbid, don’t you think?” she whispers. “But no matter how morbid, I love you, too. God, I missed you so much. And it’s only been twenty-four hours!”

  He leans down, sweeps his lips across hers, cherishing the softness. Normally, he wouldn’t kiss her in front of her mother out of respect, but he considers this a special circumstance.

  He’ll always remember this moment. The moment before everything changed. He gives her one last kiss, then turns toward the kitchen.

  “Let me help you with that, Mrs. McIntosh.”

  She smiles and shakes her head. “Oh, that’s okay, Galen. I’m almost done. Besides, you’re still dripping wet.”

  Still, Galen approaches the sink. The fragmented clues line up with each step he takes, forming the complete picture.

  He’s wasted all this time suspecting Emma’s dad. How could I be so stupid?

  Her Syrena coloring, only with blue eyes. Blue eyes without contacts, blue eyes that faded from violet from her years on land. It’s not a legend. The painting in Tartessos was right. And those same years on land are responsible for her gray streaks of hair—a sign of aging faster.