Of course, this last tribunal of the Royals will have a rippling effect on generations to come. Others may seek out the weaknesses or imperfections in their leaders, because they saw how close Jagen came to succeeding. How things are dealt with today will affect the image of the Royals from now on. And Jagen has shown them the value in maintaining appearances.

“Please know it was an unanimous decision,” Tandel continues. “We have heard your logic. While we feel some of your requests are not in the best interest of the law, we all agree that they are in the best interest of the spirit of the law, which is, and always has been, the unity and survival of our kind. As a council, we recognize that the world around us is changing, and that we must find new ways to adapt and change with it. We feel that what you are requesting is not unreasonable. And we will concede.” Before everyone gets too excited though, Tandel holds up his hand. “However, it must be stated that the consideration we are showing Emma—and Prince Galen—is an isolated matter. We still stand by the law forbidding Half-Breeds, as we feel it is for our protection not to become so entangled in the human world. Emma is the only exception, and if not for her previous show of concern for her Syrena heritage, we would decline this particular request. This special provision will be forever recorded in our history, in our collective memories as Archives.”

Emma looks like she wants to disagree, but Galen places a hand on her leg and shakes his head. Now is not the time to debate these things. Now is the time to accept small victories and take what they can get. Not to mention, he agrees with the Archives on that particular point. Some humans can be trusted. Most cannot.

Emma puts her hand on his and squeezes it in understanding. Her cheeks fill with a blush of what he hopes is excitement. They can be together. Legally.

“Now it’s our turn to meet the terms of the negotiation, right?” Rayna says, standing and stretching. “Let’s get on with it.”

21

RAYNA, GALEN, Toraf, and I swim several loops around the island of Kanton to become familiar with the area. There’s an inland lagoon full of all kinds of fish species, which will make my job ten times easier. The seven or so Trackers who have kept watch tell us that so far, no one has left the island and no one has come in—a good sign.

Rachel had a fabulous time screwing with flight schedules and such. Soon she should be arriving by boat with the life jackets. Galen and I make it clear to the Trackers that she is not the enemy.

“She’s going to spread them all over the place,” Galen tells them. “Our goal is to rescue Jagen and Musa. We do not want human casualties.”

But some of the Trackers look like maybe they do want human casualties. I can’t blame them. Right now, they perceive the humans as villains. As a threat. Still, if they can’t control their anger, they aren’t of any use to us. “If you’re not going to help, then you’re going to be in the way,” I say. “Decide now which it will be.”

They don’t seem to like my giving them orders. Toofreakingbad, I want to tell them. Two of the Trackers actually do leave, and it makes me want to sic some sharks on them, just as a scare tactic. So much for feeling compassionate.

One of the remaining Trackers glides closer to me. “Emma, daughter of Nalia, granddaughter of Antonis. I am Kana, Jasa’s mother. I want to thank you for helping her escape the fishermen’s net. I am indebted to you.”

“You can pay your debt here today,” I tell her solemnly, which makes me feel a little cheesy. “By helping save human lives.”

In the distance, we hear the thrum of a boat. Rachel signals her arrival by dumping piles of life jackets on the surface. She makes her planned circle around the island, leaving a trail of dissipating wake on the surface. The life jackets land with muted plops. Soon, and as expected, we hear the thrum of a second boat.

I watch as they converge on each other. Rachel shuts off her engine. My eyes meet Galen’s. This is all according to plan, which means the plan is happening. We are really doing this. The other boat’s motor remains a constant thrum. We anticipated that Rachel would get pulled over by one of the patrolling boats; since they’re probably policing for potential commercial fishermen in the area, her little stunt will be an unexpected diversion.

Galen and I surface quietly behind Rachel’s vessel to eavesdrop. Even if we don’t learn anything critical to our cause, I already know the exchange will be full of entertainment value.

The two-man crew of the patrol boat does not speak English. Rachel exploits this as best she can, while still dumping life jackets in the water. “What? I don’t understand what you’re saying? Do you speak English?”

They confirm in their native tongue that they obviously do not. Rachel must be putting on a theatrical display, because the small boat rocks while she talks. “I don’t need these life jackets anymore,” she says, in her thickest Italian accent. “The colors are all wrong for me. I mean, look at this orange. Ew, right?”

Galen rolls his eyes. I try not to giggle.

“And this green? Hideous!” she continues.

The men get more irate when she doesn’t stop littering their domain. “Hey, what the … Don’t touch me! I have a foot I injury, you jerk!”

Galen and I slink below the surface. “We knew that might happen,” he says. More accurately, we were hoping it would. If Rachel is on a boat with other humans, they’ll feel obligated to look after her safety. Plus, that’s two humans we can count on who won’t be on the island when it floods. Two human lives we don’t have to worry about. If Rachel’s estimates are correct, that leaves ten left to look for.