Mom sits next to Grom with a cup of coffee. “Plans for living on land.”

“We already live on land.”

“We do,” she agrees. “But it looks like we’ll need to make room for a few additions to our lives.” She doesn’t have to look at Grom for me to know she’s talking about him.

Which means everything I did was for nothing. If Grom is living on land, that means he can’t return back to his territory. “They didn’t believe me, then,” I say. “They still took Jagen’s side?”

“We don’t know,” Grom says. “We left right after you did, during the chaos that followed Jagen’s attack. What happened after that doesn’t matter. I would rather live among humans than see the ones I care about put in danger like that again.”

“Me, too,” Mom says, fury glinting in her eyes. “You were hurt, and I wasn’t waiting around for them to throw us in the Ice Caverns for the next eternity. Idiots.”

Galen places a hand on my thigh under the table and gives it a gentle squeeze. It’s not meant to be sensual at all, but I’ve been going through Galen-withdrawals and I can’t help but acknowledge the sensation of lava flowing through my veins. I try, try, try to respect that it’s meant to comfort me. Galen must see it on my face because his eyes widen before he moves his hand away from me. “There’s nothing for us to go back to, Emma,” Galen says, clearing his throat. “That tribunal should have never happened. The Syrena world we once knew doesn’t exist anymore.”

So I was right. The only thing stopping him in the bedroom earlier was my wound. Not Syrena law. Not Syrena tradition.

“It just seems that way right now,” I tell him. “Give it some time, then go back.”

“No,” he says. “I gave it enough time. Day after day, they didn’t listen to reason. All they want is change. They don’t care if it’s good or bad. Now they can have it. Without the Royals.”

The Syrena might need time, but Galen needs time, too. It’s too soon for him to be making judgment calls like that. He’s been too loyal to his kind for too long to cut them off cold-turkey. But he wouldn’t appreciate me telling him so in front of his brother. Or in front of my mom. I change the subject. “Speaking of Royals, where are Rayna and Toraf? Sleeping in?”

Galen’s jaw tightens. “Toraf is not welcome here. Rayna has chosen the company of her traitorous mate over the company of her family.”

“Galen, Toraf isn’t a traitor,” I tell him gently. “He did what he did to save Rayna. To save you. What would have happened if I hadn’t come?” But I can’t convince myself that the outcome would have been different if I had opted to stay on the cozy shore. Rayna still could have—would have—saved the day.

It looks like Galen is thinking the same thing. “Then you wouldn’t have been hurt,” he says stubbornly. “Grom was making headway. It would have turned out fine.”

“You can’t be sure of that. And Toraf wasn’t taking the chance.”

“I’m sure he’s told you some noble story. But he brought you to the Arena. He risked your life, Emma. And look what happened.”

“I did what I thought was right,” Toraf says from the threshold of the living room. Rayna stands behind him, indifference sheathing the nervousness I know she’s probably feeling at bringing him here. Over Toraf’s shoulder I see another Syrena, older and taller and lankier. I’ve never met him before, but I think I know who he is.

Too bad there isn’t time for introductions.

Galen’s abrupt stand sends his chair crashing to the floor behind him. He half-leaps, half-slides across the table, sending pots and pans and barely touched breakfasts everywhere. Within a second, he has Toraf by the neck, pinning him against the wall.

“Galen, no!” Rayna screams, beating against his back.

“Get away, Rayna,” he grounds out.

Toraf takes advantage of the distraction by punching Galen in the mouth. Galen releases him, but recovers quickly, burying his fist in Toraf’s gut.

Toraf swings.

Galen dances away.

Everyone at the table falls back to the wall, giving them a wide berth and the dining room as their boxing ring. Even Rayna resigns herself to the wall beside me.

“They just have to fight it out,” she says, sighing.

“Until what?” I say. “Not to the death or anything stupid like that. Right?” The Syrena as a species tend to live a peaceful way of life. I can’t imagine they would have a provision in their law that stipulates it’s okay to fight to the death.

Except, Galen isn’t concerned with the laws anymore.

Thankfully, Rayna shakes her head. “Until they’re too tired to hate each other. I hate when they do this.” She appears burdened with years of experiencing this.

But I can already see from the way they fight and struggle that they don’t hate each other. They are not trying to kill each other. They are both hurt inside, and want to translate that into physical blows. This brawl is a conversation. An understanding. And hopefully, a healing.

“Getting tired already, minnow?” Toraf taunts as he wraps strong arms around Galen’s neck in a choke hold.

Galen promptly flips him forward and onto his back. Toraf bounces once with the force. “You must have been drinking salt water,” Galen returns, “to have delusions like that.”