Fins Are Forever

by Tera Lynn Childs

  I wish he wouldn’t. Not now. Not when I’m already plagued by doubts and guilt and stressed out about the situation with Quince and my chances of ever going to college. It would be almost too easy for him to succeed.

  “You are what Thalassinia needs,” he says. “Look at the merfolk around us. Spoiled, privileged, and without direction. They have no idea what strife and hardship are. They need you to guide them into the future.”

  As Tellin turns us in a slow circle, I say, “Not me.”

  I think about those times when I sat with Daddy in the throne room, listening to him preside over cases with the authority and magnanimity—woo-hoo, another SAT word usage in real life—that makes him the very best sort of ruler. I could never be as great as him.

  “I’m not queen material.”

  “Do you think I am king material?” he asks with surprising sharpness. “I was not prepared to lead my kingdom, but when my father fell ill, I did not turn away from my duty.”

  I don’t miss the subtle accusation. That I am turning away from my duty.

  I force myself to ignore the jab.

  Tellin looks every bit the king right now. There is nothing left of the young boy I used to play what if with.

  “How did you do it?” I ask quietly.

  “How? I didn’t stop to think about how,” he says. “I just did it. Because it had to be done.”

  “I—” I close my eyes. “I don’t have the strength to be the queen. I’m not . . . I will never be enough.”

  “Lily,” he says, pulling me close, “there is no such thing as a perfect ruler. Every king or queen has a weakness. The key is recognizing yours and compensating with your strengths.”

  “What strengths?” I ask. “What do I have to offer my kingdom?”

  “Your compassion,” he says instantly. “Your kindness, your heart, your loyalty, your unique experience.”

  My experience. On land, he means.

  He’s playing to all my doubts, tugging at my guilt. Could I be queen? Well, I know I could be queen, but could I be a good queen? Am I what my kingdom needs? Daddy has always been opposed to coming out of the ocean, certain that humankind is rarely the most tolerant and understanding of anything different or other. But what if he’s wrong? Should I take up the mantle of my title and use my influence to pull the mer world out of the water?

  My head is overflowing with thoughts. Too many things.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, pushing out of his arms. “I need to—I’m sorry.”

  I leave Tellin on the dance floor, floating in the middle of the swirling and whirling couples. I flee the room, slipping out the back entrance and winding my way through the service halls to the one place where I’ve always felt safest. Daddy’s office.

  With everyone, including the palace staff, at the party downstairs, I’m not surprised to find the royal wing deserted. Daddy’s office is empty and dark. As soon as I swim through the door, the bioluminescent light in the ceiling comes to life, filling the room with a soft blue glow.

  I absently drift to the right, to the wall of mosaic portraits depicting my ancestors. The many before me who ruled Thalassinia with varying degrees of effectiveness. They weren’t all perfect, I know, but they were better than me.

  First on the wall is Daddy, our latest king. His portrait depicts him seated at his desk, the trident in his right hand and a clump of chenille weed in his left, representing strength and integrity. He looks so young. He took the throne when he was not much older than Tellin, I suppose. Maybe Daddy was just as uncertain, and just as determined to do his best.

  Next on the wall is my grandfather. He passed long before I was born, so I have no memories of him beyond this portrait. He is standing on the balcony of the royal chamber, presumably looking out over his subjects gathered below. The people called him Pecten the Generous because he was quite free with the kingdom’s funds. Which is also why Daddy had to spend the first part of his reign restoring the treasury.

  Before grandfather, there was Teredo the Just, the Golden Queen Alaria, Marianus the Cautious, and Quahog the Magnificent. He’s the one who got eaten by a giant squid because his guards couldn’t get down the royal aisle—aka the Bimini Road—fast enough. Not so much common sense. Guess they meant magnificent in other ways. A dozen more faces grace the walls, ancestors whose names I barely remember but whose blood—and duty—runs in my veins.

  Such a legacy.

  Am I crazy to give this up?

  “Your portrait should be next.”

  My entire body sighs.

  “I didn’t ask you to follow me, Tellin.”

  “I know,” he says, swimming up next to me.

  I’m staring at the last portrait—which was the first one created. My great-many-times-over grandfather, Chiton, the first king of Thalassinia. The one whom Capheira, our mythological ancestor, first granted the gift of mer life. He doesn’t look that different from Daddy, a similar face with white hair and a short white beard. Same smiling blue eyes.

  “Lily, you can’t just let this slip away,” he pleads. “There is too much riding on your future.”

  “Thalassinia will find another heir,” I reply, turning to face him.

  “But when?” he demands. “And what sort? You’ve trained for this your entire life. You’ve been bred for this.”

  He braces his arms against the wall on either side of my shoulders.

  “Tellin, I—”

  I interrupt my own thought. Here in the utter privacy of Daddy’s office, with the dim lights and in the cage of Tellin’s arms, it almost feels . . . right. He’s so close and so passionate about making choices for the common good. My duty, my responsibility. My destiny. It’s only a kiss away.

  It would be so easy just to lean forward a few inches, press my lips to his, and vanquish all my doubts and guilt forever. So easy . . .

  An image of Quince flashes in my mind.

  I can’t.

  Just because something is the easy choice does not make it the right one. Quite often the right choice is really, really hard. I’ve made my decision. I love Quince and I believe my future lies on land. I’m not about to throw all of that away to avoid snide comments from girls like Astria or to wash away guilt that Daddy has assured me I don’t need to feel.

  “Tellin,” I say, pressing a palm to his chest to push him away, “I can’t. I have to make my own choices in life, or it won’t be my life.”

  “Damn it!” Tellin slams a palm against the wall so hard I feel the vibrations—quite a feat under water. “Lily, you can’t do this. You’re going to ruin everything.”

  “What?” I have never seen that kind of fury in his pale eyes. “Ruin what?”

  “You have no idea,” he says, his voice a rough growl. “My kingdom . . .” A look of complete desperation washes over his face. “We’re dying, Lily. With the rising ocean temperatures, the coral in our kingdom can’t survive. It’s disrupting the entire cycle of life in our waters.”

  I suck in a gasp. I knew that ocean warming was a worldwide problem, that the mer kingdoms had been in talks for years about how to combat the effects. But I didn’t know any kingdoms had been so dramatically affected already.

  Thalassinia has been lucky in its more northerly location. We’ve seen new species migrating into our waters, but so far that’s only been an interesting sea forestry study. Down in the already warm waters of the Caribbean, in an ecosystem so entirely dependent on the coral reefs, I can’t imagine what Acropora must be going through.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, even though I know it’s totally inadequate.

  “Sorry,” he scoffs. “Lily, my father isn’t ill, he’s dying. My people are starving. I haven’t been living on land because I want to. I’ve had to. Many of my subjects have been forced to either leave the waters or emigrate to other kingdoms.”

  “That’s awful,” I say, cupping his cheek in sympathy. “But I don’t see how bonding with me—”

  “You don’t see?” he spits. “Uni
ting our kingdoms is the only hope. With the strength and prosperity of Thalassinia comes the salvation my people need.”

  “But—” I shake my head. “Our bonding would not unite the kingdoms. You said it would be a bond in name only, so I could take the throne.”

  “You are either very naive or willfully blind,” he snorts. “And selfish.”

  I have no response to that because, well, am I being selfish? I can’t tell anymore.

  “You have doubts,” he pleads. “I can see you do.” He floats down and lays his head against my belly. “For the love of your merkin to the south, I am begging you.”

  This is so much to take in. The fact that he’s been lying to me about the bond. The famine and ecological destruction wiping out his kingdom. So much emotion. It’s a lot to process, and the only thing I know is I am not the solution. I can’t be. Right?

  Thalassinia is a prosperous and wealthy kingdom, and we are very generous with those less fortunate, but we don’t have the capability to support an entire second kingdom. Especially one as large and diverse as Acropora.

  Tellin’s hopes for a united kingdom are unrealistic.

  “Tellin, I’m very sorry for your kingdom’s suffering,” I say, feeling helpless. I gently wrap my arms around his shoulders. “But bonding with me won’t—”

  “The hell it won’t,” he growls before suddenly kicking upward until his face is level with mine. “It’s the only option we have.”

  His abrupt movements are such a surprise, his lips are nearly on mine before I react. I twist to the side, dislodging his body, and—with a flick of my fin—I’m out of his arms and in the center of the room.

  He doesn’t chase after me. He just drops his head against the wall. His shoulders are heaving and I think he might be crying. Sobbing.

  “Tellin . . .” I swim back toward him, overcome by sympathy. Maybe I should be angry, but desperation makes people do uncharacteristic things.

  “Don’t. That was unforgivable.” He shrugs off my hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Lily. I am so sorry.”

  I take a deep breath. This is my friend speaking, not the desperate king of moments ago.

  “I understand,” I say, floating to his side. “You are worried about your kingdom.”

  He looks at me, his pale eyes bleak and lost. And glittering ice blue. “I’m worried that, if things don’t change, there won’t be a kingdom much longer.”

  So much pressure on one so young. No wonder he tried to take such drastic action. To find out that your father is dying and your kingdom might be, too? That’s a lot to deal with.

  He shouldn’t have to deal with it alone.

  “Have you spoken to Daddy?” I ask. “Or to the other kings and queens?”

  The mer kingdoms are all unique and sovereign nations, but we are joined by a common secrecy, a common heritage. We try to protect and help one another out as much as we can.

  “My father wouldn’t let me,” he says. “Too proud to ask for help.”

  I know that pride is a powerful emotion, but it is also a terrible indulgence. Especially when the fate of your kingdom is at stake.

  “Your father is not in charge at the moment.” I take Tellin’s hand in mine, showing my support. “You can move beyond his pride.”

  “You know,” he says with a sad laugh, “that’s why he stopped speaking with your father. Because King Whelk refused to sign the arranged bond agreement for us. My father can’t stand the thought of being denied.”

  Well, at least that makes more sense. I couldn’t really see Daddy wanting to arrange a marriage for me, not since he’s been so adamant that I follow my heart.

  I shake off my annoyance at Tellin’s father. “You need to call a council of kings and queens,” I suggest. “Present them with your situation, and I’m sure you will not walk away without numerous promises of assistance.”

  “You are too generous,” he says, squeezing my hand. “Fletcher is a lucky man.”

  “I like to think so,” a new male voice says.

  I spin around so fast, Tellin is pulled in my wake.

  “Quince!” I squeal. Then I’m across the room, throwing my arms around his neck and peppering his face with kisses.

  “Such a shame,” Doe says, drifting in after Quince. “I was hoping to ruin your party like you ruined mine.” She sighs. “Looks like I brought the guest of honor instead.”

  Ignoring Doe, I scream, “You’re here!” I squeeze him tight. “What are you doing here?” Then I suddenly realize just exactly where here is, and I say, “How are you here?”

  With a smile, Quince pulls my arms from around him and twists—awkwardly, because he’s still in human form and still not the best swimmer—and shows me his neck. There is a black circle of waves tattooed at the base. The outer portion of the mer mark.

  I am completely overcome with joyful, tearful emotion.

  “Daddy found you?” I manage.

  “Actually,” Daddy says, swimming up next to Doe, “your cousin found him. I merely performed the ceremony when she brought him to me.”

  I glance, teary eyed, at everyone in the room. My squid-brained cousin, who’s turning out to be not such a horrible young mermaid. My darling daddy, who found a way to bring me and Quince even closer together. My adored Quince, who is willing to accept all the craziness that comes along with life with me.

  “We have something to talk about,” I tell him, trying to sound stern but knowing that my glittering eyes and huge smile undermine the effect.

  “I know,” he says with a matching smile. “I acted like an ass.”

  “Well . . .” That takes a lot of the steam out of my lecture. “Okay. As long as you recognize the fact.”

  He flashes me a wink. “Always.”

  “You know, daughter,” Daddy says, swimming over his desk and sinking into the massive chair behind it, “it is nearly midnight.”

  Oh, no.

  My heart starts beating flipper fast. I’ve been anticipating this moment for weeks now—sometimes eagerly, sometimes less so. But I’ve known it was coming. Now that it’s here, I’m a little (a lot) freaked out.

  “Mangrove and I have drawn up the papers.” He pulls a few sheets of kelpaper from a drawer and sets them on top of the desk. “They only require your signature.”

  I swim up to the desk, painfully aware that all eyes in the room are on me. Daddy hands me a pen. I didn’t expect it to happen this fast.

  “Right here.” He points to the line where I’m supposed to sign. Where, with one curl of ink on paper, I’ll renounce my claim to the throne. Forever.

  This is what I want, I remind myself. To be on land, with Quince and Aunt Rachel and lip gloss and mediocre sushi.

  The squid ink–filled quill clutched in my fingers, I move my hand over the paper. Over the line.

  Hovering.

  My entire body freezes, like Peri when a jellyfish floats by. I can’t move a muscle. My brain is racing. Is this the right decision? Easy or hard, is this the best choice for my future, for the future of Thalassinia and of Acropora and the other mer kingdoms?

  I have never felt so completely paralyzed by doubt.

  Eyes wide, I seek out Quince, my rock. He’s floating between Doe and Tellin, watching me calmly, betraying no emotion. When my gaze flicks to Tellin and back to Quince, his look shifts. Like he’s bracing himself.

  Then, in a moment that’s just between us, Quince nods.

  I don’t need to voice the question I know he’s answering. Our connection is stronger than any formed by a magical bond. And always will be.

  Without giving myself time to think about the situation, I drop the pen, jet myself across the room with one powerful kick, and grab Tellin by the shoulders. I only have an instant to register the pure shock in his eyes before my lips brush his.

  Chapter 16

  Holy bananafish, what did I do? My brain freaks out for a second—okay, more than a second—not quite believing what my heart just told me to do.


  But my brain quickly catches on. This is about more than love and college plans and a black-and-white decision between living on land or becoming queen. There is a huge, Pacific-sized gray area where I can choose both.

  And I just did.

  Holy bananafish!

  The shock of my spontaneous decision sends gallons of adrenaline pouring into my bloodstream. While I take a few deep, calming breaths to regain a normal pulse, I take note of the room around me. The people around me.

  Tellin blinks, like, forty-seven times.

  Daddy shouts, “What have you done?”

  Doe shrugs and stares at the ceiling with a bored expression.

  Quince watches me seriously, silently, with his mouth drawn up into a smile on one side. He’s not thrilled with the kiss, of course, but he supports my decision. I can tell. And it’s a huge relief.

  Since Daddy is the only one actively questioning my actions, I say, “It’s the right thing to do.” I share a solemn look with Tellin. “In more ways than one.”

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” Daddy asks after the two minutes it takes him to get over his shock. “There is still time to perform a separation, if you—”

  “No.” Though my decision was rash and instantaneous, I’m not racked by any feelings of regret. Actually, I’m relieved. The doubts that have been plaguing me for the last few weeks are instantly gone, telling me I made the right choice. “I am Thalassinia’s princess, and I cannot cast aside that responsibility for selfish reasons.”

  Daddy’s gaze shifts to Quince. “And you have no objections?”

  “Sir,” Quince says, floating to my side, “I am still a stranger to this world”—he takes my hand—“but I know your daughter. I believe she will be the best possible kind of ruler. I love her and will always support her choices in any way I can.”

  Daddy nods at Tellin. “And the bond?”

  Quince squeezes my hand. “Our love is stronger than a bond,” he says with the kind of certainty I’ve come to rely on. “If this is what it takes for Lily to remain in line for the crown, then this is what we have to do.”

  I squeeze his hand back. The best part of what he said? We. We are in this together, like the inscription on his birthday gift, forever. Who could ask for a better boyfriend?