Romul’s eyes grow wide. “Oh no, Esteemed One, not your word. Our intention is merely to discern the truth, to make sure you are not … mistaken. After all, you are not actually a Tracker, trained with the memory of pulses, and much time has passed since your daughter—”

Romul isn’t the only one startled when Grom surges to within an inch of his face. “I don’t know what an Archive might hope to gain from becoming involved with these antics,” Grom says quietly. “But I can assure you, I will protect what’s mine.”

Romul blinks, sways backward. “Yes, please do, Highness. Her Majesty Paca has been awaiting your safe return. It is only fair that you two enjoy some … private time with her before we convene the tribunal.”

With this, Jagen shoves Paca toward Grom. But she never touches him.

Because Nalia slams into her first.

11

IT’S BEEN two days since Galen and company left, and Rayna’s voice has not come back. Which is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, she’s irritable and anxious and probably doesn’t have anything nice to say. On the other, I’m lonely, so even if we were bickering, I’d welcome the distraction.

Rachel has been mothering me and Rayna to death. Even though she’s got a broken toe, Mom set her up with one of those air-cast things so she hobbles around the house cooking and cleaning and probably sharpening her knives and polishing her Chinese throwing stars or something. I don’t know if she’s one of those people who stays insanely busy to keep from thinking about things, or if she just has adult-onset ADD, but whatever the case, she’s become overwhelming. Even Rayna thinks so.

“Why can’t I go to school with you?” Rayna whispers, but her normal voice comes through the rasp only sometimes, so it sounds like she’s undergoing puberty. “If Galen can do it then I can. I’m smarter than him.”

I haven’t even had the chance to put my backpack down and we’re having this argument again. We talked about this fifty-six times already. I know she’s anxious and needs a distraction and watching television will only hold in her bottled-up tantrum for so long. But taking her to school is so not a good idea. She already caused a scene with the repairmen who came to fix the shattered-by-Toraf bay window in my living room yesterday. Sure, she tried to whisper, but whispering, among many other things, isn’t her specialty, and especially not now that she sounds like she’s yodeling every sentence. But the glass installation guy did not appreciate her remark—which, in her defense, she had been trying to privately yodel to me—that his nose resembled a lobster claw. “A big one.”

I can only imagine what kind of damage she would cause at school. She doesn’t know how to play things cool like Galen. Her brain doesn’t have that “inappropriate” filter, either. After all, that’s why she was left behind in the first place. If she’s not fit for the Syrena world right now, I’m not risking exposing her to the human world.

Oh sure, she looks innocent enough right now, surfing the channels on the humongloid flat screen above the fireplace. But I remember not too long ago that there was a different flat screen hanging on the wall—and that it had to be replaced with the current one because she picked a fight with me that ended with a literal storm unfurling in the living room and damaging everything.

Rachel shuffles to Rayna and snatches the remote from her. Turning off the television, she says, “I think we should take a trip.”

“I have school,” I say. “My guidance counselor is already breathing down my neck about my attendance. Besides, I’m tired of traveling.” Understatement of the century.

“I don’t want to go anywhere in case Toraf—in case anyone comes back for me,” Rayna protests.

“Then why are you begging to go to school with me?”

She shrugs. “Rachel would come get me if they came back. But if we all leave, then there’ll be no one to come get me.”

Rachel crosses her arms. “Well, here’s the thing, my little queens. I’m going nuts sitting here waiting to see what happens and I think you are, too. Besides, tomorrow’s Friday and it just so happens that they’ve invented these things called airplanes that can take you anywhere in no time flat.”

Rayna perks up. “You mean we get to fly somewhere?”

“Where?” I whine. “I’m not exactly in the mood for Disney World and I doubt your foot could—”

“I think it’s high time I met Dr. Milligan,” Rachel says, raising her chin slightly. “I could use a day or two of room service and at the very least, Dr. Milligan could take a look at Rayna’s throat.”

“Really? We can fly there?” Rayna looks at me, her eyes full of all kinds of excited. “I’ve been in the water and been on land, but I’ve never flown before.”

I remember the effect flying had on Galen—projectile puking, anyone?—and I’m not really in the mood to be cleaning up Rayna’s brand of upchuck. Still, she has this desperate look about her that I can’t find it in my heart to ignore. “Fine.” I sigh. “You can have the window seat.”

Rayna claps like a seal as Rachel walks back to the kitchen. “I’ll book the flights for tomorrow after you get home from school. No layovers though. I’m not walking all over the airport with a bum leg.”

Rayna bites her lip. “What if someone comes back for us while we’re gone?”