Fins Are Forever

by Tera Lynn Childs

  “Lily.” Her serious tone stops my babble midbab. “I understand that you have a lot going on right now. Most students do.”

  I sense a big, giant-squid-sized but coming.

  “But,” she says, “I wonder if there is a reason you have missed both of your interview appointments.”

  “There is,” I explain. “I really wanted to go—”

  “Did you?”

  “I—” What does she mean? “Of course I did.”

  “I know your decision to attend college is a recent one,” she says. “Maybe, I don’t know, maybe you still aren’t certain.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I hear her take a deep breath. “Maybe you don’t really want to go to college. Maybe you’re sabotaging your chances so the decision is made for you.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” She has no idea what’s really going on, and it’s not like I can explain it to her. “I do want to go to college. Really, I do.”

  “If this kind of irresponsible behavior is uncharacteristic, maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you something.”

  “It’s not,” I insist. “Really! I’ve just had a crazy week.”

  “I want you to think about it,” she says, gently but firmly. “If you are still committed to the decision two weeks from now, I will see about arranging another interview.”

  “I don’t need to think about it.” I know I sound desperate, but this is like the final kelp strand that broke the sea horse’s back. Just one thing too many swirling out of my control. “I swear, it’s just—”

  “Two weeks,” she states. “I’ll see you in school to-morrow.”

  “But—”

  She’s gone before I can tell her that I won’t be in school tomorrow. Great—that will probably just reassure her that I don’t really even want to be in school, let alone go to college.

  I slam the phone back down on the base.

  That’s so unfair. She has no clue what’s going on. How can she pretend to guess what my subconscious is thinking?

  “Why does everything seem to be spiraling out of control?” I ask no one in particular.

  I don’t expect an answer.

  “Anything I can help with?” a deep male voice asks.

  “Daddy!”

  I spin away from the phone, shocked to see him standing in the upstairs hall. In a fin flick I’m in his arms, squealing, “What are you doing here?”

  “Can’t a father visit his daughter?”

  “He can,” I say, pulling back to give him a fake-stern look, “but he usually doesn’t. Not when his calendar is full of kingly duties and his daughter lives on land.”

  “Well, it’s a special week,” he explains. “It’s not every day my only child turns eighteen.”

  “But I’m coming home tonight,” I explain. “You would have seen me in a few hours anyway.”

  Not that I’m not thrilled to see him.

  He gets a mischievous look in his eyes. “What I have to do cannot be done under water.”

  He looks totally pleased with himself, like he’s got the greatest secret in the history of merkind. At times like this he seems more like a little boy than the most powerful man in Thalassinia.

  “What?” I ask warily.

  He gestures for me to take a seat on my bed, which I do because I want to find out his secret.

  “For the past few weeks I have had Mangrove scouring the royal records for something.” He sits next to me on the bed. “For something I remember my father alluding to but I wasn’t sure existed or was even possible.”

  “What?” The anticipation is killing me.

  “You know that every merperson is branded with the mer mark on his or her neck.”

  “Of course.” I roll my eyes. “Daddy . . .”

  “What you may not know is that the mark is not only a symbol,” he explains, “but also the source of our powers.”

  I think back to the image of Doe’s incomplete mer mark. That makes sense. When he exiled her and revoked her powers, the outer circle of her mer mark disappeared. When he lifts the exile, it will probably return.

  “What Mangrove found,” Daddy says, sounding like he might be actually getting to the point, “is an ancient ritual for creating the mark.”

  “Creating the mark?” I echo. “What does that mean?”

  “Merfolk did not always exist,” he explains. “We were human until Capheira used Poseidon’s trident to grants us aqua vide.”

  “This isn’t news,” I insist. “It’s ancient history. What does it have to do with today?”

  “What this means, Lily,” he says, his face melting into one of pure joy, “is that I can use that ritual to bestow the powers of our people on a human.”

  I gasp. And tears tingle at the inner corners of my eyes. He doesn’t have to finish the thought, because I immediately know exactly what he means.

  “I can grant Quince the power of aquarespire,” he finishes, “even without the bond. Your young man can come home with you.”

  My emotions erupt in a battle between joy—Quince can return to Thalassinia!—and despair. Quince is gone. After all the ups and downs and whirlarounds of the last few weeks, it’s no wonder I have kind of a mini meltdown. I break into great gasping sobs.

  Not, I imagine, the reaction Daddy had been hoping for.

  “What’s wrong?” He wraps a strong arm around my shoulders and hugs me close. “What happened?”

  “Quince left,” I blurt between sobs. “He found out I’m giving up the crown to be with him,” I explain, “and he left.”

  “Where did he go?”

  Shaking my head, I answer, “I don’t know. He was just so angry.” I wipe at my nose. “He doesn’t think he’s worth the sacrifice.”

  There is a tense pause before Daddy says, “But you do?”

  “Of course!” How can he even ask me that? “He’s the kindest, strongest, most loyal person I’ve ever known. I love him.”

  Daddy nods, as if pleased by my answer. “Then everything will work out.”

  I suck in a deep breath and glance at the ceiling. “I’m not sure.”

  “It will just take time,” Daddy says, patting my knee.

  “I know.” I wipe at the tears, trying to regain some composure. “Hopefully he’ll be home by the time I get back. We can talk then.”

  “Do you want to postpone the ball?” he asks. “We cannot delay the renunciation, but we could reschedule the party.”

  “No,” I insist. “No, I’ll be fine.” Ish. I climb off the bed. “Let’s get going now. I’m sure Peri and her mom are eager to finish my gown.”

  “Are you certain?” His eyes are full of concern. “We could wait; maybe Quince will return in time to—”

  “I’m sure.” The last thing I want is to have it out with my boyfriend while my dad is waiting. What Quince and I have to talk about won’t change in the next few days—even though my decision will have been made final.

  “Just let me call Shannen to cancel lunch,” I say, “and tell Aunt Rachel and Doe good-bye.”

  “How is your cousin doing, by the way?” Daddy asks. “Have you made any progress with her?”

  I freeze halfway to the door. Shoot, this wasn’t how I’d imagined telling him Doe’s news.

  “Actually . . .”

  “Lily cured me,” Doe says, appearing in my open doorway and saving me from explaining. She spoons a bite of key lime yogurt into her mouth.

  “Did she?” Daddy asks.

  “I’m bonded to Brody,” Doe says with a little sass. As if expecting an argument, and totally ready for it. She licks her spoon. “Permanently. I love him.”

  I think Doe and I are both shocked at Daddy’s response.

  “Huh,” he says, pulling his mouth into a considering look. “Interesting.”

  That’s it? Interesting?

  Maybe Daddy’s losing it in his old age.

  “Lily, why don’t you go make your phone call,” he says, not taking his eyes off Doe. �
��I’ll be down in a moment.”

  Maybe he’s not losing it. He just doesn’t want to scold her in front of me. Sorry, Doe. She hands me her empty yogurt container and spoon as I pass by, and I lose a little of my sympathy.

  “Okay,” I say, hurrying into the hall before the yelling match begins. I just hope I don’t get any of the leftover wrath for not performing the separation ritual as agreed.

  Twenty minutes later, Aunt Rachel is waving good-bye to us at Seaview Beach, and Daddy and I are heading into the waves. Despite all the looming craziness—my ball gown, the party details, the party, the title renunciation ritual—all I can think about is the hope that Quince will be home when I get back.

  My first birthday wish is coming true. Now I know what wish I’ll be making over my underwater birthday cake.

  Chapter 15

  You look . . .” I sense Peri moving away from me. “Breathtaking. Open your eyes.”

  When they performed the final fitting on Sunday night, Peri and her mom kept me blindfolded so I couldn’t see what the dress looked like. Now, less than an hour before my party, Peri has dressed me with my eyes closed.

  The anticipation is killing me.

  My first sight of the dress—of me in the dress—nearly knocks my breath away. Though I knew vaguely what the dress would look like from the pattern mock-up they pinned to me last week, the final product is so far beyond anything I could have imagined that I am completely stunned.

  The halter top has a deep plunging V that, while reaching almost to my navel, manages to be completely modest. From the waist, the skirt hugs the curves of my tail fin to the knee joint, before flaring out into a reverse-V hem. Dozens of ruffled layers fluff out the skirt in a million shades of green with subtle hints of gold.

  I recognize the petticoat fabric. It’s the cloth Peri was working on when I came home last week.

  In the back, the hem trails off into a point several feet longer than my fin. The tail waves gently back and forth behind me in the soft current of the Gulf Stream.

  And the best part? The body of the dress is a magical shade of gold. At this moment it perfectly matches the tear-glittered shade of my eyes.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. “The dress is amazing.”

  “Mom and I knew we needed something extra special,” Peri explains, “for your last gown as a royal princess.”

  If my eyes hadn’t already been glittering with tears, they would be now. Not because I’m sad, but because my life is about to change. Permanently. In a few short hours I will no longer be Princess Waterlily. I’ll be plain old Lily Sanderson, insignificant daughter of the king.

  It’s a choice I’ve happily made, but that doesn’t mean the change is easy to accept.

  “Come on,” Peri says, fussing with the green ruffles of my hem, “let’s get down to that party. I’ve heard the birthday girl is a total diva.”

  We’re still giggling as we swim up to the private entrance to the royal ballroom. Mangrove, Daddy’s trusted secretary, is guarding the door. Ready to announce my arrival.

  “You look beautiful, Princess,” he says, bending low over his fin.

  “Thank you, Mangrove,” I reply dutifully.

  His hand on the door, he asks, “Shall I announce your arrival?”

  After a quick shared look with Peri, I nod.

  He pulls the door open wide, swims into the room, and using his most ceremonial voice, bellows, “Princess Waterlily.”

  A hush falls across the ballroom.

  I force myself not to think about the last time I entered the royal ballroom on a wave of silent anticipation—Quince-related memories will only make me cry more at this point.

  Instead, I focus on the crowd, on hundreds of merfolk dressed in their finest apparel, and on the ballroom. The ceiling covered in gold and green seaweed streamers, six different buffet tables of the most mouthwatering delicacies in the ocean, a school of lightning-bug fish—a uniquely Thalassinian species—swimming amid the streamers, making the ceiling twinkle with their flashing lights. It’s every mergirl’s dream. The only thing that could have made it more perfect would be if—

  No, I can’t think about him right now. For the next few hours I need to be Princess Waterlily, not Princess Waterpot. I want my last moments as a royal princess to be proud ones. They’ll have to last me a lifetime.

  “Happy birthday, daughter,” Daddy says, sweeping me into a massive hug and—thankfully—saving me from a Quince-related thought.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” I say, hugging him back. “It’s beautiful.”

  A mergirl’s eighteenth birthday is supposed to be the most magical day of her life. She is officially an adult, as far as the mer world is concerned, and all of her family and friends join in the celebration.

  A royal mergirl’s eighteenth birthday is even more special. There is a huge buffet feast, which makes the one at Dosinia’s sixteenth birthday look like an after-school snack. In the far corner of the room, an eighteen-piece orchestra is playing a program of fun-yet-classical compositions. Women in gem- and pearl-encrusted gowns dance with men in sharp tuxedo jackets with gem- and pearl-encrusted cummerbunds. It’s like a fantasy world. Everything around me is glittery and sparkly and full of laughter and fun.

  Everything except me.

  If I were a bonded princess, this is the day I would go from royal to crowned. Accepting my future role as queen. When I made the decision to stay on land a few weeks ago, I knew exactly what I was getting into. I knew what I would be giving up, that I would be letting my kingdom and my ancestors down. I knew it, and I didn’t care. With so many of the things I care about most tied to land, I would make a miserable queen. And a miserable queen can hardly be a good leader.

  Still, despite all my thinking and rationalizing and accepting, I didn’t know it would be this hard, that my feelings would be this painful, when the moment came.

  Instead of sparkling gowns and formal jackets, I see my future subjects. These are the people, along with the thousands beyond the palace walls, I’ll be leaving heirless. Are my selfish wants worth what it will cost them?

  “Good evening, Princess Waterlily.”

  I turn and find a trio of girls my age bowing into the water. They look like coordinating Oceanista dolls. One has pale skin, red hair, and a mint green tail fin. One has a fake tan, bright blond hair, and an orange-gold tail fin. And one has naturally dark skin, long flowing black curls, and a glinting mahogany tail fin.

  The terrible trio. Though I haven’t seen them in years, I recognize them from my early tutoring sessions in the palace.

  As I said, they never seemed to like me very much.

  “Hello, Astria,” I say to the redhead, the leader; then to the other two, “Piper, Venus.”

  Piper’s eyes widen. Probably surprised that I remembered their names after all these years.

  “We are honored to be a part of your birthday celebration, Princess,” Astria says, all mocking respect.

  I could tell her to call me Lily, but since I’m pretty sure that’s what she wants, I don’t. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck are at attention, and I have a feeling this is going to end badly.

  This is my last birthday as the royal princess of Thalassinia, and I’m not about to let three snobby clones ruin it for me.

  “Of course,” I reply magnanimously, bowing my head slightly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

  “It’s too bad,” Astria interrupts.

  I freeze in my escape.

  “Really,” Venus agrees. “Too, too bad.”

  “Too, too bad,” Piper parrots.

  “If only . . . ,” Astria says.

  She leaves it hanging, like a grub on a hook, waiting for me to bite. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. Astria, Piper, and Venus have been trouble since we were guppies. They’re the reason Daddy made me spend a week scraping the algae off the palace roof when I was nine, for something that wasn’t even my fault.

  Still, knowing all that, I can’t help but ask,
“If only what?”

  Astria gives me an appallingly sympathetic look. “If only you had found a boy willing to bond with you.”

  “Such a shame,” Venus commiserates.

  My mouth drops open. They have no idea. I’m on the verge of setting them straight when I feel a warm arm wrap around my waist.

  “Has Lily been telling you how she rebuffed my advances?” Tellin asks, hugging me close to his side. “I’ve been begging her to bond with me for ages, but she just won’t relent.” He smiles at me. “Loves her human too much.”

  My three tormentors suck in identical gasps. Since he’s dressed in Acropora’s finest royal uniform, they know exactly who he is. And what he is.

  Take that, sea witches.

  They are still slack-jawed when Tellin says, “I believe this is my dance.”

  As he tugs me away, I glance back over my shoulder. The look of utter shock on their faces is the best moment of the night.

  Even though I’m still mad at him for the whole Quince-revelation thing and the whole conspiring-with-Doe thing, the saving-me-from-the-terrible-trio thing is enough to cool my anger a little.

  “Thanks,” I say as he leads me into an open spot of the dance area in front of the orchestra. “Those three almost put Dosinia to shame.”

  “You are quite welcome,” Tellin says, pulling me into his arms for the dance.

  Now that we’re out of range of the terrible trio, I refocus on why I’m mad at him. Social savior or not, he has a lot to answer for.

  “Doe told me about your plan.”

  He doesn’t miss a beat in the music. “Did she?”

  “She did, and—” I’m not sure how to say exactly what I think of that, so I blurt, “I appreciate your faith in my abilities as a leader, but it was all kinds of ridiculous from the start, wasn’t it?”

  “Perhaps,” he says with a gentle smile. Then, changing the subject, he says, “I must confess my motives for rescuing you from those girls were not entirely selfless.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, even though I’m pretty sure I already know.

  “I mean,” he says, whirling me into a spin, “that I wanted the opportunity to plead my case one last time.”