Grom joins the three of them at the center stone. A crowd gathers around them. “You yourself summoned her here,” Grom says. “Did you not, before everyone, insist that Toraf bring the Half-Breed here?”

“You’re Jagen,” Emma says, crossing her arms. “You’re the cause of all this stupidity. Where is Paca?”

“Paca has nothing to say to a disgusting Half-Breed,” Jagen spits. “In fact, none of us here have anything to say to one!” He looks around the growing ring of onlookers. He gets very little support.

Emma treads back, nodding. Searching the faces of the throng surrounding them, she says, “It’s true. I am a Half-Breed. Nalia is my mother. My father, a human, is dead. And as for me being welcome here, that’s not a decision for one Syrena, but for all of them.”

Indecisiveness ripples through the masses. They pack closer to get a better look at Emma. Galen doesn’t like the suffocating number of them. Some are still loyal to Jagen. Some of them might want to hurt her.

Jagen pushes against them in warning, forcing them to maintain at least a small center stage. He turns on Emma. “Actually, it was decided for them all. Our great generals effected that hundreds of seasons ago. ‘No contact with humans.’ If you’re claiming Syrena heritage, you should at least learn some of our laws, young human.”

Emma laughs. Galen recognizes it as her go-to when she’s about to prove him wrong about something. But he doesn’t want her to prove Jagen wrong. He wants to get her out of here. His whole being thrums with the need to steal her away.

But Emma is determined. “Now you’re concerned with the laws? I didn’t realize you could pick and choose which ones to follow, Jagen. That sounds pretty convenient, huh?” She earns a few nods of approval from their audience, not the least of which comes from King Antonis. He watches her intensely, pride stuck on his face like squid ink. Galen knows the feeling.

Emma pauses, and her whole demeanor changes from huntress to mother as she looks to the accumulation of fish above her. “Those who need air may surface. Come back when you’re done. Young ones go first.”

Emma turns her attention back to the Syrena. “I possess the Gift of Poseidon. Look around you and deny it.”

Jagen’s nostrils flare. “Do not let yourselves be charmed by this Half-Breed, as Poseidon did so long ago. That’s why Triton ordered all Half-Breeds killed in the first place, is it not? And now you would allow her to defile the sanctity of our Arena with her lies of having the sacred Gift of Poseidon?”

Rayna pushes through the audience, and to Galen’s dismay she’s holding Toraf’s hand. She propels them both into the center. Toraf and Galen exchange nods, but Galen feels as though icicles run through his veins. Emma shouldn’t be here. And she’s here because of him.

“I, for one, do not believe she has the Gift of Poseidon,” Rayna says gleefully. “If you have the Gift of Poseidon, make those hammerheads attack Jagen where he stands.”

Galen pinches the bridge of his nose. Toraf smirks at him, but Galen will not return the sentiment. Not now and not in a thousand years.

Emma mulls over this for a moment, then points to a female Syrena on the front line of the ring. Galen recognizes her as Tira, a Triton Tracker’s daughter. “Pick,” Emma tells her.

Tira’s lip trembles. She tries to back out of sight, but someone pushes her forward. “Pick … Pick what?”

Emma motions to the halo of predators above them, around them, everywhere. “Pick two. Any two you want, and I will have them divide Jagen’s body evenly.”

“No!” Jagen screams, his face contorted in terror.

Emma cocks her head at him. “Jagen, make up your mind. Didn’t you just say you don’t believe I have the Gift? So then why should you care if she points to some harmless sharks?”

He clamps his mouth shut, but the look of panic stays.

Tira says, “I couldn’t do that, Highness.”

Highness! Someone called Emma “Highness”! It’s one of the many names she calls Galen when she’s mad at him. The irony is not lost on Emma. Her death glare cuts off his snickers.

She turns back to Tira. “Of course you can. There’s nothing to worry about because Paca has the Gift, remember? Isn’t that what you all believe? She would never let any harm come to her own father, would she? I know I wouldn’t. So go ahead and pick. Paca will save Jagen.”

Clever little angelfish. Galen smirks at Jagen, who won’t meet his eyes. Nalia and Grom make their way to the edge of the center. Grom grins at Emma likes she’s his own daughter. Which is very weird for Galen.

Tira takes a deep breath. “Okay. Since you put it that way.” She eyes the living wall surrounding the Arena and points. “Those two right there. The two striped sharks.”

Emma smiles. “Excellent choice.” She waves to the tiger sharks. As she opens her mouth to give the command, Galen sees a movement from the corner of his eye. A Loyal Tracker raising his hunting spear.

“Galen, watch out,” Rayna rasps, remnants of her voice coming through in fractured rifts of clarity. The water around them seems to rumble. Could one of the volcanoes be awakening? An eruption on the full assembly would be the worst possible thing Galen can imagine.

Apparently startled, Emma moves in front of Galen, poised to shield him—from the spear or the eruption, Galen’s not sure. In a swift motion, he tucks her back behind him.