“I shouldn’t have followed you,” I say.
He looks back over his shoulder, back the way we came from. Right. Because not only am I the crazy mergirl who followed him halfway across town and turned into a basket case at the first sign of jellyfish, I’m also the crazy mergirl who ruined whatever plans took him to the Black Kelpforest in the first place.
Besides, he made it abundantly clear in the prejellyfish conversation that he’s not interested in a relationship—not able, whatever.
“I should go.” I scan the area, looking for a familiar landmark and finding none. “Where are we?”
“Halfmoon Harbor is right over that ridge,” he says, pointing to a rocky hill a short ways behind me.
The suburban neighborhood is on the southeast corner of town. From there it’s a short swim back to my home just outside the palace walls. I can be in my bed, this whole crazy disaster of a night a distant memory, in half an hour.
“See you around,” I say, even though I really hope I don’t. I’m barely keeping control of my humiliation at this point. I’m not looking forward to testing my resolve.
He doesn’t say anything, and doesn’t look like he’s going to say anything, so I turn and start for the ridge.
“Hey, Peri,” he says.
I whip back around way faster than any mergirl should, especially one who’s trying to act like she doesn’t care that the merboy she’s crushing on is completely uninterested should. Way to play it uncool.
“Yeah?” My heart is pounding.
He gives me a tortured half smile. “Swim safe.”
Seriously? My shoulders slump. Swim safe? That’s the best he can do?
“Sure,” I reply. “You too.”
Then, before he can say something else to embarrass or infuriate me, I turn and swim for home. “Swim safe?” I mutter to myself. “Kiss my tail fin.”
Now, if only I really meant it.
Being an emissary to a princess isn’t the toughest job in the world. When that princess is your best friend, it’s pretty much the greatest.
Basically it’s up to me accompany Lily on royal visits to other kingdoms, prepare her with all the background information for the meetings, and step in as a go-between if necessary. She’s going on a goodwill visit to Acropora next month and we’re getting an early start on the prep work.
Acropora borders Thalassinia to the south, and they have suffered from the effects of ocean warming more than any kingdom. Lily and Quince have masterminded a huge aid network to help all the kingdoms of the western Atlantic cope with the reality of climate change. Since she is bonded—in name only—to Acropora’s prince, Lily takes their welfare extra seriously.
“I want to be sure to check in on the new aid warehouse,” she says. “It should be up and running at full capacity.”
“Okay, I’ll add it to your agenda.” I write it down, after the meetings with Prince Tellin and King Gadus, but before the Marine Flora Expo. “Do you want to take any gifts for the royal family?”
“Oh, I should, shouldn’t I?”
I nod. “It’s customary.”
Lily hangs her head back over her chair. “You’re so much better at this kind of delicate politics.”
“I’m not,” I insist.
But we both know I am. It’s one of the reasons the king assigned me as Lily’s emissary. That, and the fact that I’ve always been interested in politics and royal law. Something I think I inherited from my dad.
“What about a harvest wreath?” I suggest. “It could be a nice symbol of sharing the wealth of our harvest with them.”
“Perfect,” Lily says.
I scribble down a note to order a wreath from Florella’s Flowers. She has the best selection in all of Thalassinia and she’s a small business. She can always use the extra orders.
“So, anything else?” I ask as I finish the note.
“I think that’s everything.” Lily floats back into her chair. “Can you think of anything we’ve missed?”
I set my notebook down on the desk. “No, but I’m sure I’ll think of twenty things as soon as I get home.”
“Good, now that business is over,” Lily says, steepling her hands in front of her like some kind of supervillain, “you can tell me what happened with Riatus yesterday.”
I slump back in my chair and huff out a frustrated breath that sends my bangs swirling. It was only a matter of time. Lily is not one to just let things go, especially when my love life—or lack thereof—is involved.
Since finding Quince it’s like she’s been on a mission to get me someone equally awesome.
But what can I tell her? That I stalked him across town and to the outer edges of civilization? That he went into the sketchiest part of Thalassinia, but promised me that he’s not involved in anything illegal?
Because of her position, she might feel obligated to investigate even the hint of illegal behavior. I believed Riatus when he told me he wasn’t a criminal, but Lily wouldn’t have to. It would only take a few innocent questions to completely disrupt his life. And for him to realize that I totally ran and tattled to the princess.
No, I won’t treat him as poorly as he’s treated me, so I stick to the critical parts of the story.
“He said he couldn’t go out with me,” I admit. “That even if he wanted to, he just couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t?” Lily leans forward, letting her elbows rest on her desk. “What does that even mean?”
“Honestly, I have no idea.”
She gives me an impatient look. “Did you ask him?”
“No, I—” I tilt back to study her ceiling. “There were jellyfish.”
“What?” Her green eyes soften with sympathy. “Are you okay?”
Lily knows my history, so she knows all about my panic fog. She’s saved me from my frozen reaction more than once.
“I’m fine,” I insist. “Riatus saved me.”
She smiles, and I know he just earned a bunch of points with her. “I didn’t see any reports of jellyfish in the marketplace.”
“They weren’t in the marketplace.” Great, this is the part of the story where I have to tread carefully. “He was, um, leaving the market when I got there and I had to follow him.”
“How far?” she asks.
My gaze remains fixed on her ceiling, counting the seashells in the intricately carved pattern. I feel the current move and I know she’s not behind her desk anymore.
She appears above me, blocking the view to my distraction.
“How far, Peri?” she repeats. “To their warehouse?”
I shake my head, trying to avoid eye contact.
“To his home?”
If only. “No,” I say with another shake. “Past the edge of town.”
“Periwinkle Wentletrap!”
“What?” I finally look her in the eye. “He’s a fast swimmer. And I was determined to talk to him last night so I could ask him about the dance. And so that a certain princess wouldn’t bug me about it forever.”
I don’t expect her to smile, and when she laughs I’m worried that she’s gone over the edge. Yes, I’m pathetic and ridiculous. I don’t expect my best friend to be so amused.
“It’s all your fault,” I say. “If I’m a crazy stalker, I’m using you as my defense in court.”
She laughs even harder. “I am the court!”
“I’ll ask for the king to preside,” I retort. “He’s always liked me.”
After a few more laughs, Lily finally calms back to normal. She studies me, her green eyes serious and intent. It’s like she’s trying to read my brain.
If I weren’t trapped in a chair I’d back away a few inches.
“What?”
“You like him.” She takes my hands in hers and twirls me out of the chair. “You really like him.”
I let her spin me a few times. It feels like the dances we used to do as guppies. Those were days of pure joy, before pressures or responsibilities or boys. Life was so much easier.
“That’s what he thinks.”
“Oh no,” I say. “Don’t you get that determined look on your face.”
“Leave things to me,” she says. “I’ll make sure he sees exactly what he’s missing.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on tiptoe. “Don’t you dare.”
“It’ll be perfect.” Her eyes go all dreamy, like she’s already planning the wedding.
“Lily Sanderson,” I warn, and when she doesn’t respond, I get serious. “Princess Waterlily.”
“What?” she asks with a long-suffering eye roll.
“Promise me.” I get in her face, making sure she’s looking me straight in the eye. “Promise me you won’t do anything. At all. Nothing involving me and Riatus.”
After last night’s humiliation, the last thing I want is to see him. Ever.
“Involving you and Riatus?” she muses. “Okay. I promise. Nothing.”
“Lily . . .”
“You worry too much,” she says. “Now, let’s go see what Laver has cooked up in the kitchens tonight. I hear there’s pineapple inside-out cake.”
One of the royal chef’s specialties.
She takes me by the hand and swims for the door. I have a bad feeling about that promise. A really bad feeling.
The light is still on in Mom’s studio when I get home. It’s late and she’s usually in bed by now. But with the Sea Harvest Dance less than two weeks away, she’s swamped with orders and working crazy hours to make sure all the dresses are perfect.
Part of me misses being her apprentice. But I know she’s really happy that I’m working with Lily. And I still help out whenever I have free time.
If only I had more time now.
When I swim through her door, she has a mouthful of pins and she’s busy draping a swath of opulent lavender satin on a dress form. As I float there watching, she pins and repins it four times, finally settling on a fitted bodice with a fan of pleats across the chest. It’s a work of origami art.
“It’s beautiful, Mom.”
She twirls and smiles at me through the pins. “Hank hoo.”
Luckily I can translate pin speak. “You’re welcome.”
I grab the magnetic bowl of pins from her worktable and hold it out for her. She removes the pins from her mouth and sets them inside.
“Is this the one for Venus?” I ask, guessing that the lavender will look breathtaking against her dark skin and black hair.
She nods. “I had to talk her into it. But she’ll see.”
They always do.
“How many do you have left?” I ask.
A dozen dress forms are scattered around the room, covered in various stages of dressmaking. A few only have seam line markings traced onto the cloth surface. Several display gowns that are all but finished, just needing one last piece of decoration or a final hem. The bulk of them are somewhere in between, with fabric or trim pinned on, fittings and finishings still to come.
“Besides the ones on the forms,” she says, turning to look at the piles of cloth on her worktable, “a dozen more.”
“A dozen?” I gasp. “Mom, how will you finish them all?”
She shrugs. “I always find a way.”
“I wish you would hire a new apprentice.” And not just because that would relieve some of my guilt.
“I will.” She picks up a spool of ribbon, one shade darker than the lavender satin, and holds it up against the dress-in-progress. “As soon as I find a candidate with the promise and the passion.”
In other words, never. No one ever lives up to Mom’s standards.
“Can I at least do something to help?”
I expect her to say no, because she always does. She doesn’t want to take away from my fledgling career in politics. She’s always wanted something more for me.
So it’s a total shock when she says, “Actually, you could do one thing.”
“Anything,” I say with a smile.
“I’m running low on pearls,” she says, and my stomach turns inside out. “Could you run to Paru’s stall for me tomorrow?”
Mom’s back is to me, so she can’t see the look of pure horror that I’m sure is on my face right now. Really? Of all the things, all the trimmings she might need or all the tasks she could ask me to do, it’s this?
I have to do something about this luck of mine.
“Sure,” I say, trying not to sound like it’s the end of the world. “How many do you need?”
“Two thousand should get me through this season. I’ll leave a list on the kitchen counter.” She throws a grateful smile over her shoulder. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
I smile back, but mine’s not nearly as cheery.
“No problem.”
Yeah, no problem at all.
5
The fact that it’s daylight this time as I approach the stall in the back corner of the market only makes it feel like there’s a spotlight on my humiliation. Oh look, there goes the mergirl who chased that hot merboy out of town, only to find out he couldn’t like her.
Yeah, something like that.
Maybe he won’t be there. Maybe he’s not working the stall and I will find Coral waiting for me instead.
But as I round the corner, past the shellfish stall with the counter I hid behind the other night, now full of clams and oysters and every possible bivalve in the seven seas, the first thing I see is a flash of red. The vibrant scarf he uses to keep his hair out of his face is visible from a league away.
Way to keep up the winning streak, luck.
My mission is simple: get in, get the pearls, and get out. As fast—and as humiliation-free—as possible.
If my luck doesn’t cooperate this time I’m going to make a visit to the Trigonum Vortex—what the human knows as the Bermuda Triangle—so I can make it disappear altogether.
There are several other customers swimming around the stall. That’s a good sign. With so many other merfolk around, it can’t become some kind of crazy scene. Of course that means there are more potential witnesses to my future humiliation, but I’m going to try thinking positive. It can’t make things worse.
Riatus is helping another customer sift through a display of mint-green pearls.
“My Maggie loves seafoam green,” the older mergentleman says. “I want to find the perfect one for our anniversary.”
Riatus peers down at the pearls, inspecting them closely like it’s just as important to him to find the right pearl. Finally, he plucks one out. “This looks like seafoam to me, sir. I’ll bet your Maggie will adore this.”
The customer beams, clearly pleased with the selection.
I enter on the other side of the stall and head for the cash register at the counter. They’ll be over here in a moment so the gentleman can pay, and then I can intercept Riatus before he gets involved with another customer. I don’t want to draw out this visit any longer than I have to.
“Normally a pearl like that runs fifty starbucks,” he tells the gentleman as they approach the counter. “But today is your lucky day. We’re running a discount on all green pearls. It’s a bargain for twenty.”
I grumble to myself. Riatus knows how to be charming when he wants to be.
Not waiting to see the gentleman’s face, Riatus turns to swim around the counter . . . and sees me waiting there.
“Peri.” He obviously didn’t expect to see me back here anytime soon.
You and me both.
“I need to pick up a selection for my mom,” I explain, so he doesn’t get the wrong idea and think I’m here to beg him to date me, or something equally stupid.
“Right.” He shakes his head, like he has to remind himself to be professional. “I’ll help you as soon as I get Mr. Zafra checked out.”
I cross my arms and float against the counter, determined not to notice how kind he’s being to the elderly man. Or how the silver shells in his hair sparkle in the fi
ltered sunlight. Or how his smile—and the shallow dimples in his cheeks—seem totally genuine. I am not interested in noticing anything worth admiring.
When Mr. Zafra has paid and swum off, another customer approaches Riatus. He puts her off. “Just let me help Peri,” he tells her. “Her order will only take a moment.”
The woman nods and goes back to browsing.
When Riatus turns back to face me, his cheeks are slightly pink and he doesn’t quite look me in the eye. “How many does your mom need?”
“Two thousand.”
“What colors?”
I hand him the list Mom wrote up. He gets to work, gathering a hundred in one shade, three hundred in another. I keep my eyes on the stall floor.
He swims back over and waves the list in front of my face.
“What does that last item say?” he asks. “I can’t make it out.”
I glance at the paper. Now it’s my turn to blush. “Copper. Fifty copper seed pearls.”
Which is not actually what the note says. Mom wrote Fifty Peri seed. Those must be for my dress, copper to match my tail fin. She’s been very secretive about the design.
A moment later, Riatus has the whole order collected and bagged. I join him at the cash register.
“You got home okay the other night?”
The question completely throws me off my guard. I’m trying to keep this professional—nothing but business, like the incident at the edge of the forest never happened. He can’t ask me about that night. He just can’t.
“Yes,” I answer.
“Good,” he says. “I was worried about you.”
Even though his attention is focused on totaling up the order, I shrug in response. I don’t care if he doesn’t see it.
He starts to punch numbers into the register. “I wanted to apologize.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for.”
“I think there is.” He looks up. “I wish I could—”
“Excuse me,” a male customer asks, swimming up next to me. “Miss, may I borrow your opinion?”
“Mine?” I gesture at my chest.
“I need some advice.”
He holds up two strands of classic white pearls. The strand in his left hand is made up of large-diameter pearls, more valuable and ostentatious than the other, smaller-diameter strand. Most mermen would go for the bigger pearls—the bigger, the better. But there is something to be said for understated elegance.
Pretty in Pearls: A Forgive My Fins Novella (HarperTeen Impulse) Page 4
