Galen rolls his eyes. “Why would Antonis take her? If Antonis cared about Jagen’s treason, he would have done something about it years ago.” But Antonis didn’t seem to care about anything these days. Since Nalia died, he’s holed himself up in the Royal caverns. Some Poseidon Trackers told Toraf he hasn’t come out since he declared the house of Triton an enemy.

“According to Jagen, Paca has the gift of Poseidon.”

The words knock the breath out of Galen. “That’s not possible.”

Slowly, Grom shakes his head. “It’s not likely. But it’s possible. She’s got Royal blood in her, no matter how diluted. And if she is of Poseidon, I can’t ignore the ramifications of her ability.”

“But that’s not how it works. The Gift has never shown up in anyone but a direct descendant.” What am I saying? Won’t I be trying to convince Grom of the same thing about Emma, with even less proof than this? At least Paca can prove some royal blood. But Emma’s father isn’t trying to claim the throne. In fact, Galen found Emma by accident. Which makes Paca’s Gift seem suspicious, at best.

“I spoke to the Archives. Of course, I didn’t tell them about Jagen’s accusation. They believe I’m just a new eager king, exploring our legacy.” The Archives are the collection of ten of the eldest among their kind—five from each house—entrusted with remembering the history of the Syrena. Galen agrees it would be natural for Grom to seek their counsel.

“And?”

“In their collective memory, they don’t recall it ever happening. But one of the Archives, your friend Romul, believes it would be possible. He reminded us that the Gifts were to ensure the survival of our kind, not just the survival of Royal lineage. He said he wouldn’t be surprised if Triton and Poseidon thought of this beforehand, that a Royal might abuse his power. He thinks they might have made a provision somehow.”

Galen crosses his arms. “Huh.”

Grom chuckles. “That’s what I said.”

“But you said you didn’t tell them about Jagen.”

“I didn’t. I’m a new king without a mate inheriting a bloodless war against the only other kingdom of our kind. It’s only natural for me to be asking creative questions.”

Galen nods. “But if the Gifts can be transferred to someone else, why even bother forcing the Royals to mate? The Law of Gifts has always been strictly enforced. Romul’s theory renders that law—and the Royals—pointless.” And it doesn’t sit well with Galen. Especially that Romul gave his opinion at all. The Archives are bound to tell the facts—nothing more, nothing less. Romul had told him that himself when Galen first visited him as a youth. But Romul is more than just an Archive to Galen, he’s his mentor. No, more than that, he’s his friend. Friends share opinions with each other.

But Archives have no place speculating before kings.

“Well, it’s like you said, it’s just a theory. But it’s one I can’t ignore. I’ve decided to let him use Toraf. If Paca’s alive, Toraf will find her.”

Galen nods. And if Paca has the Gift of Poseidon, there won’t be a need for Emma … at least not for Grom. His heart races with an emotion he can’t name. “If this gets out—”

“It won’t.”

“Grom—”

“But just in case it does, keep Rayna with you, wherever you’ve been. I don’t want to see your faces again until this is resolved.”

“We’re not fingerlings. Rayna’s even mated.”

“No, but you’re what’s left of the Triton Royals, little brother.”

The words hover between them, prodding them with the gravity of the situation. So much at stake, so much dependant on if. Does Antonis have Paca? And if he does, will he turn her over peaceably? And if he doesn’t have her, will Grom’s investigation incite Antonis to make a bloodless war bloody?

But it’s worth the risk. If Paca does have the Gift, mating with Grom will ensure the survival of the Syrena. And Galen will be free and clear to chase after a certain white-haired angelfish.

But is anything ever that simple?

Grom stares out over the canyon, entombed in his thoughts, emotions absent from his face. Galen clears his throat, but it doesn’t pull his brother out of his trance. He considers dropping the subject altogether. Opening old wounds is the last thing he wants to do, but he has to know. There will never be a good time to talk about it, but this might be the only appropriate time. “Grom, I need to ask you something.”

Hesitant, Grom tears his gaze from the abyss and settles it on his brother, but his eyes still hold a distance. “Hmm?”

“Do you believe in the pull?”

The question visibly jolts Grom, replacing the detachment in his eyes with pain. “What kind of question is that?”

Galen shrugs, guilt stabbing him like a trident. “Some say you felt the pull for Nalia.”

Grom massages his eyes with fingertips, but not before Galen sees the torment deepen. “I didn’t realize you listened to gossip, little brother.”

“If I listened to gossip, I wouldn’t bother to ask.”

“Do you believe in the pull, Galen?”

“I don’t know.”

Grom nods, sighing. “I don’t know either. But if there is such a thing, I guess it would be safe to say I felt it toward Nalia.” With a flit of his tail, he swims forward, turning away from his brother. “Sometimes I swear I can still sense her. It’s faint, and it comes and goes. Some days it’s so real, I think I’m losing my mind.”