Reed’s mother, Lauren, is unapologetically human. Blonde hair that I can tell would be curly, but that is French braided into submission with the occasional rebellious tendril sticking out. Large brown eyes that seem to miss nothing and a pear-shaped figure that could only be gotten by enjoying the sweeter things in life.

Toby, Reed’s nine-year-old brother, is a classic Half-Breed—blond hair, pale skin—and a classic pain-in-the-butt, loudmouthed younger sibling. I’ve always wanted one of those.

“Reed says you have the mark of a trident on your stomach,” Toby says to Galen, so enthralled he almost passes the bowl of rolls to the floor instead of to me.

The clink and clatter of silverware stops. Mr. Conway takes a swig of his buttermilk, then leans back in his chair. He’s trying to look casual. He’s failing. “Is that right?” he says.

Galen cuts into a new potato that we both know he’s not going to eat. “It’s a tattoo,” Galen says, shrugging.

Suddenly, dinner feels like a game. Mr. Conway is interested in Galen’s Royal birthmark, and Galen is not interested in telling him about it. Lovely.

“Aww, crap,” Toby says, crestfallen. “We were hoping you were a real-live Triton Royal. No one’s seen one before.”

Galen offers him a good-natured smile from across the table. Only I notice the slight flex in his jaw. “Sorry to disappoint, minnow.”

“A tattoo, huh?” Reed says. “We haven’t had much success with tattoos here. Some nonsense about our skin being too waterlogged for the ink to stick.”

Galen shrugs. “Must be a freshwater thing.”

What the heck? I can understand why Galen would be guarded—these people are still strangers, after all—but to flat-out lie? Especially when they already know what the trident means. Who cares if they know he’s a Royal? If anything, his status could be used to open up communication with them. To start bridging the gap between freshwater and saltwater Syrena.

Unless Galen’s not interested in bridging the gap.

I push that thought aside and pop a whole red potato in my mouth. It will keep me from blurting, and I’ll have to concentrate on not choking instead of sifting through reasons why Galen wouldn’t want to bridge random gaps.

“Not to question your judgment, Galen,” Mr. Conway says. “But wouldn’t the kingdoms see a human tattoo as … Well, as not only breaking the law, obviously, but also as a kind of sacrilege against the Royals? Especially a trident, like yours. Or have things in the ocean changed that much?” He glances with meaning at me, the Half-Breed girl Galen brought to dinner. Touché, right?

But for once in my life, I don’t feel out of place as the Half-Breed girl. In fact, Mr. Conway winks at me, and I can’t help but return a smile. At least, I hope it resembles a smile, but I may have literally bitten off more than I can chew. Maybe he’s smiling because a Half-Breed brought a Triton Royal to dinner. That seems more of a noteworthy scandal here in Neptune.

Galen sets his fork down. I try not to notice the deliberation in the action. “No offense, Mr. Conway, but you don’t give the impression of being overly concerned with the laws of the ocean.”

Milk. I need milk. I take a bigger swig of it than I intended. It’s the only way I can keep from gasping/choking/speaking out of turn. At this point, I expect Mr. Conway to throw us out. And I wouldn’t blame him if he did.

“Please. Call me Reder,” Mr. Conway says, oozing hospitality. “And you’re right, of course. The laws of the ocean dwellers don’t concern me. I’m just curious. What brings you to our neck of the woods? We haven’t been visited by your kind for quite some time.”

I wonder how old Reder is—and if my grandfather is the last “visitor” he’s speaking of. Surely there aren’t many dirty little law breakers among the ocean Syrena?

“Our way of life is very different from yours,” Galen says. “We still have a healthy fear of humans. Which is why I’ve been appointed as an ambassador to them. I’ve been assigned to watch them and to report back to the kingdoms.”

Since when did Galen fear humans? And is he trying to offend our host? “Galen has made some valuable human contacts,” I blurt. “People who help him watch the human world. But he knows that not all humans are bad.”

Under the table Galen grabs my knee. If he’s trying to shut me up, it won’t work. He does know that all humans aren’t bad. Doesn’t he?

Mr. Conway crosses his massive arms. It’s a good intimidation move. Galen appears unimpressed. “And what will you be reporting about us, Galen?”

Galen smiles. “So far? That Mrs. Conway has a talent for making freshwater trout actually taste good.”

Mr. Conway is about to parry, but Toby, oblivious to the tension, slurps the rest of his buttermilk and near slams it on the table. “Galen, Reed says you have the biggest fin he’s ever seen.”

Galen smirks at Reed, then nods his head toward him ever so slightly. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

Reed responds with a scowl.

I can tell that Toby was really asking a question instead of making a statement, and Galen probably realizes this, too, but he’s not budging on any insights into why he’d have a ginormous fin. Of course.

Toby gives up on Galen and turns to me. “Emma, Reed says you have the Gift of Poseidon, too.”

“Too?” I ask, glancing at Reed. So he really was bonding with the fish in the cave. Poseidon-style.