Besides, it really was a reflex. Mom obviously thought I was in danger. And she thought Galen was going to arrest her for being a Syrena deserter. She probably thought all sorts of things in the two seconds it took for her to react to Galen’s heavy words: “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Nalia.”

I was as surprised as anyone when she pulled the knife from the dishwater and lunged toward Galen with it. So surprised, in fact, that I didn’t move a solitary inch from where I stood. Not to help Galen. Not to help my mom. And not to turn the tip of Rayna’s harpoon in the right direction so she could at least shoot into the kitchen, instead of impaling an innocent couch.

Maybe Rayna is raw about that. Maybe she thinks I should have helped.

Maybe I should pinch the pure snot out of her after all.

Instead, I ask, “So what happens now?”

She frowns. “Now we wait.” Rayna turns toward shore then, moving so slow at first that I think she’s waiting for me to catch up. Even against the strong current, I swim my way to her with my puny human legs within a few seconds. But Rayna is not paying attention to me at all. In fact, she’s not even swimming. As I pass her, she sags in the water, listless and pliable in the current. Her velvety silver fin, which usually resembles the powerful, ambitious tail of a shark, now looks like a wavering piece of seaweed.

Rayna, who is always so full of grit and spirit and fight. Rayna, who would slap the taste out of my mouth if I said her tail looked like seaweed.

When I reach shore, I can still see her shadow floating just below the surface. And I decide that if Rayna is worried, then so am I.

10

GALEN DOESN’T get truly nervous until he senses the size of the Syrena mass coming toward them. Up until this point, he’d been worried about Emma. What she thought about all this. Her mother’s reunion with Grom. What she planned to do while they were gone. Whether or not she was going to keep her promise and stay out of the water.

And … his thoughts keep wandering back to their kiss between the sand dunes. It was an exquisite torture, the way she tasted like a mixture of salt water and herself. A combination of two things he’s come to cherish. Water and land. Syrena world and human world. Love for his kind and love for Emma.

Only now, as the party of Syrena approaches, its presence seems to encroach on Galen’s options. For some reason, it feels like a choice between water or land, Syrena world or human world, love for his kind or love for Emma. According to the law, there never was a choice. But that was before Emma.

And Galen has the feeling that the time for truly deciding between the two is closing in on him. But haven’t I already made that decision?

He steals a glance at Toraf, who’s been wearing the same grim expression since they left Emma’s house. Toraf is never grim. Since they were fingerlings, he’s always had a special talent for finding the positive in a situation, and if not the positive, then he can certainly find mischief in a situation.

But not now. Now he’s keeping to himself. Toraf never keeps to himself. Even Grom, the usual sealed-up clam, has become boisterous and enlivened while he and Nalia chatter to each other, laughing and whispering and holding hands, all the while speculating over the events that separated them so long ago.

But Toraf seems oblivious to the chatter and to Galen’s internal war of emotions and to the swarm of jellyfish he just narrowly avoided. Galen had thought Toraf might have been anxious about leaving Rayna behind. Usually, though, he comforts himself by talking about her until Galen wishes he’d had a twin brother instead of a twin sister.

No, what’s troubling Toraf has nothing to do with leaving Rayna behind. He even persuaded her to stay. Which means he thinks it’s safer for her on land right now. Toraf’s motives are always simple: do what’s best for Rayna, in spite of Rayna.

From what Galen can sense, there are at least fifty Syrena approaching them; some Galen recognizes, some he doesn’t. He knows that Toraf, as a Tracker, has sensed and recognized each one since they stepped foot in the water behind Emma’s house. He knew the exact moment they formed a group and began to move in the general direction of the Jersey Shore. And from that exact moment, Toraf has been un-Toraf.

Which makes Galen feel caught in a fisherman’s net. Unprotected, powerless, defensive.

All at once, the Syrena party comes into view. And Galen sees the reason behind Toraf’s distress. Yudor, the Tracker trainer, leads the group, while Romul and Jagen swim slightly behind him. Together. Shoulder to shoulder.

Galen had suspected that Romul had been helping Jagen secure his place—Paca’s place—within the Royal lines. Now he’s sure of it. Romul hardly ever leaves the confines of the Cave of Memories. In fact, Galen can’t remember the last time he did.

Of course, this would be a monumental occasion, what with the return of the Poseidon princess. But there is nothing welcoming or celebratory about Romul’s expression. Just indifference, carefully arranged humility, and a bit of scrutiny.

Jagen takes no care to hide his displeasure with the approaching party of Royals. This is, of course, a great inconvenience to him. But for however condescending Jagen appears, his daughter Paca seems to own the appropriate instincts for the situation. She peeks out from behind Jagen, her face full of the kind of apprehension a fraud should be feeling right now.

What bothers Galen the most is not the obvious conspiracy passing between his old Archive mentor, Romul, and Jagen. What is more concerning are the Trackers. And the fact that they’ve come armed. They carry the traditional Syrena hunting weapons—whale bones carved into spears and tipped with angry-looking stingray barbs. These spears have always been used for protection against sharks and ill-tempered squid.