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  “Why are they doing it?” she asks. When I turn back around, she adds, “Do they believe they are doing these things for the right reasons?”

  I think about it for a few seconds and then sigh. “Yes, they do.”

  “You know, when I was in school, I was involved in a group dedicated to saving the Everglades from tourism and development.” She gives me a small smile. “Some of the other members thought we needed to achieve our ends by any means necessary. Some of them went so far as burning a small cruise boat that took tourists through the swamp.”

  “Oh no,” I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand. “Was anyone hurt?”

  “Fortunately not,” she says. “But those involved were arrested, and our organization fell apart in the face of the scandal.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “The saddest thing was,” she says, “they thought they were doing the right thing. Or at least for the right reasons. Their lives, as well as the life of the tour operator and the relations between the people who make a living from the swamp and the environmentalists who want to preserve it, were irreparably damaged.”

  This is exactly what I’m afraid of happening in my world. If there are merfolk determined to sabotage human operations in the seas, then that will affect both worlds in a bad way.

  “To this day,” Miss Molina continues, “I regret not doing something to stop them. If you are facing a similar situation, my advice is to find another way for your friends to achieve their end goals. You can’t stop them head-on—I tried that. You need to find an alternative solution.”

  That’s what I’m trying to do. I’m trying to get the mer kingdoms to work together instead of taking on these environmental challenges on their own, mer against human.

  I guess it’s good to know that I’m doing the right thing. I’m not even sure that anything needs to be done. I might just be overreacting, wanting to believe Aurita because I don’t want to be wrong. I hope that’s the case, because the idea of merfolk fighting humans leaves my stomach in knots.

  The bell rings and I’m going to be tardy. Again. At least my art teacher, Mrs. Ferraro, isn’t really strict about that.

  “Thanks, Miss Molina,” I say, backing away to the door. “That helps a lot.”

  “You’re welcome,” she calls out as I run inside.

  My heart pounds as I unroll the scroll, eager to see what Daddy found out.

  FROM THE DESK OF

  KING WHELK OF THALASSINIA

  After discussing the matter with King Zostero, I believe I was correct. Princess Aurita fabricated the tale and there are no such sabotage plans in place.

  Sorry.

  Daddy

  I reread the words three times. This can’t be right. I was so certain that Aurita was telling the truth. So certain.

  But Daddy wouldn’t lie—he has no reason to—and I trust his judgment. If he says she was making it up, then she must have been making it up.

  I crumple the kelpaper in my fist.

  Just because I accept his answer doesn’t mean I like it. I don’t like being wrong, and I don’t like the idea that Aurita totally played me.

  As I hurry to my locker, I tell myself I was wrong about Aurita. Everything is going to be fine, and next weekend I’ll do my next round of royal visits to get support for my plan.

  Everything is going to work out.

  * * *

  “I thought your father said there was nothing to the sabotage rumors,” Quince says as he stomps into my kitchen a few mornings later. His biker boots clomp across the floor, rattling my breakfast dishes.

  He slams the morning paper down on the table and says, “Explain this.”

  Prithi meows at the noise intrusion and dashes from the room.

  Confused, I scan the front page headline.

  TWO WORKERS MISSING AFTER OIL RIG ACCIDENT

  “Oh no,” I gasp.

  I skim the article, which talks about an unexplained accident at an offshore oil rig in the gulf—along the northern edge of Desfleurelle. A piece of machinery that was inspected only last week malfunctioned, sending two workers overboard and several to the infirmary. This is exactly the kind of thing Aurita warned me would happen.

  “I thought your dad said there was nothing to worry about,” Quince says. “I thought he checked things out.”

  “He did,” I insist. “He thought Aurita made it all up.”

  “Clearly he was wrong.”

  “This could just be a coincidence?” I suggest weakly. I don’t like thinking that Daddy made this kind of mistake and people got hurt.

  Quince scowls at me. “Lily . . .”

  “I know, I know,” I say. “He was wrong.”

  He was wrong to trust King Zostero over Princess Aurita, and I was wrong to trust Daddy’s investigation over my gut. I knew something was going to happen, I believed Aurita, so the responsibility lies with me.

  The article says that while search efforts continue for the missing workers, the rig is out of commission due to the malfunction. King Zostero wanted revenge, wanted the drilling to stop, and he succeeded. I only hope that Aurita’s brother isn’t one of the missing or injured men.

  Now my responsibility is to make sure nothing more happens to endanger human lives.

  I walk to the still-open kitchen door and call a messenger gull. While I’m waiting for it to arrive, I grab a sheet of kelpaper and a squid-ink pen from the junk drawer and scribble a note.

  Daddy,

  You were wrong. Please send guards to accompany me to Desfleurelle after school today. I will leave from Seaview Beach Park at 4:00 p.m.

  XOXO,

  Lily

  When the messenger gull is on its way, I turn back to Quince.

  “I can’t undo what happened,” I say. “But I can try to stop it from happening again.”

  He crosses the room and wraps me in a hug.

  “I know you’ll do your best.”

  “Geez, can’t you two keep your hands off each other for five seconds?” Doe snarks as she walks into the kitchen.

  “You’re one to talk,” I throw back. “You and Brody are practically glued at the hip every time I see you together.”

  She shrugs as she pulls open the fridge. “That’s different. We’re cute.”

  If I had something other than Quince within reach, I’d throw it at her.

  She flashes me her I’m-so-cute-and-innocent smile before taking a sip of grape juice. “So what was all the stomping and grumbling?” she asks. “Did Lily scratch your motorcycle again?”

  “Again?” Quince growls.

  “Doe!” I might throw Quince at her after all. I step away from him. “Really, it wasn’t a scratch. More of a smudge. Um, dust. Really.”

  For a second he looks angry, but then he just shakes it off. To Doe he says, “There was an offshore drilling accident last night. Looks like the merfolk are starting their revenge.”

  Doe’s eyes widen, and she looks stunned into silence—a first. She turns to me. “What revenge? What is he talking about?”

  I guess I haven’t seen her much since I got back. Like I said, she and Brody are inseparable, and I’ve been pretty busy.

  After I give her the bullet points, she says, “Aurita’s a trip, for sure, but she wouldn’t lie about something like this.”

  “I guess we’ve learned that lesson now,” I say.

  “What are you going to do?” she asks.

  I’m surprised that she sounds genuinely concerned. Except for her somewhat misguided attempt to make me keep my title for the sake of the kingdom, Doe doesn’t take much notice of royal affairs. And until recently—as in very recently—she would have applauded these efforts of revenge against humans. She hated all humans with a pretty violent passion, blaming them for her parents’ deaths. Now that she loves Brody and has been spending time with humans—him, Aunt Rachel, and Shannen—she’s definitely more human friendly.

  “I’m going back to Desfleurelle tonight,” I reply. “To try to talk
some sense into King Zostero.”

  Doe nods, like she approves of my plan. Then she shocks the seaweed out of me by saying, “I’ll come with you.”

  “What?” I shake my head. “No, you don’t need to do that.”

  She flips her caramel-blond hair over her shoulder in a careless gesture. “I know. But I can and I want to.”

  I exchange a look with Quince, and he shrugs. He’s always believed that there is a smart, caring, mature mergirl somewhere inside Doe—somewhere deep, deep inside. Maybe he thinks this is a sign that her maturity is surfacing.

  Maybe it is.

  “Okay,” I say. “Meet me in the parking lot after school. We’ll head straight to the beach.”

  As if nothing major just happened, Doe sets her glass in the sink and flounces out of the kitchen, her knee-length skirt swinging with every bouncy step.

  “What just happened?” I ask. “I mean, was that my cousin volunteering for something? Again?”

  “Sure looked like it.” Quince smiles. “Want me to give you two a ride to the beach? I can borrow my mom’s car.”

  “No,” I say, my mind still on Doe volunteering to join me. “I’ll take my car. Who knows when we’ll be getting back?”

  Quince is silent for a second before asking, “Did you really put a scratch on Princess?”

  “Um . . . no?”

  Quince lifts one dark-blond eyebrow above his piercing Caribbean-blue eyes. Like he can stare me into a confession.

  Okay, maybe he can.

  “It’s teeny-tiny,” I say, backing toward the kitchen door. “You can’t even see it unless you’re really looking and—”

  I turn and run upstairs, acting like I need to escape before he freaks out. Instead, I just hear his laughter roaring through the house. Maybe the idea of a scratch on his baby made him go insane.

  I hide at the top of the stairs, waiting for him to catch me. When he does, I gladly accept my punishment in the form of a big, hard kiss.

  When he pulls away, I’m breathing heavily.

  “You know you’re going to give her a bath,” Quince says.

  “A bath?”

  He rests his forehead against mine. “And scrub her until your smudge is gone and her body gleams.”

  “Okay,” I sigh, leaning into him. “I’ll totally do that.”

  He winks. “And I’ll totally sit back and watch.”

  I close my eyes and wait for even more punishment.

  I don’t have to wait for long.

  Chapter 16

  When Doe, Brody, and I arrive at the beach that afternoon, the first person to emerge from the water is Daddy. The look on his face—sad and serious, with deep wrinkles of concern etched on his forehead—tells me that he feels every ounce of his mistake. There’s no point in rubbing it in.

  A pair of his guards walks out behind him. Not that I don’t love my guards, but his are so much more intimidating. Even a great white would turn tail and swim the other way.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “I will escort you to Desfleurelle,” he says. “Zostero lied to my face, and I will not stand for that.”

  Daddy’s arms and shoulders are tense. He’s tense. His fists are clenched at his sides. Bad sign.

  “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” I say. “We don’t need to start a war over this. That won’t help things.”

  “I won’t send you alone,” he says. “If Zostero is willing to lie to me and attack humans, I don’t trust him with you.”

  “I won’t be alone,” I say quickly. “Doe’s coming with me.”

  “Aurita and I have a history,” she tells Daddy, hugging her arm around Brody’s waist.

  “Ah yes,” he says, a scowl forming. “I remember.”

  “We’re over that rivalry thing,” she says. “Well, at least I am. I think I can help.”

  “Lily,” Daddy says, turning back to me, “I don’t like the idea of you—”

  I step forward and lay my hands on his shoulders. This is the moment when I go from being Daddy’s protected little girl to Princess Waterlily, who puts duty first.

  “Trust me,” I say. “I was right about Aurita, and I’m right about this. This is my cause.”

  He takes a deep breath and then releases it. “Yes, you were right. If either of those missing men is dead, I won’t—”

  “We didn’t make this happen,” I say, trying to reassure him. “King Zostero did. Now I want to do my best to make sure it’s the last time.”

  Daddy nods, relenting.

  “You will take a double school of guards,” he says. “And I will have more at the ready. You need only send a message bubble, and the entire Thalassinian guard will be at your side.”

  “I really don’t think that will be necessary,” I reply with a nervous laugh. At least I hope that won’t be necessary. “I’m just going to talk to him. Reason with him, you know.”

  “I will trust your judgment in this,” he says. Then, turning to Doe, he adds, “And I am glad you will be there as well.”

  He turns and walks back into the sea, shouting, “Be careful,” over his shoulder as he goes.

  Next to me, Doe is practically glowing. As the perpetual black fish, wild child in the family, she’s not used to such a compliment. She’s not used to people trusting her. Which probably only ever made it less likely for her to do something worth complimenting.

  “Time for me to go, baby,” she says to Brody.

  “You’re sure you don’t want me to come with?” he asks.

  She leans up on her toes and gives him a kiss.

  “I’m sure.” She drops back down and sets her hands on his hips. “Besides, this is one of the last times you’ll be able to stay when I go. After the new moon next weekend, we’ll be eternally tied to each other.”

  Brody gets that swoony look on his face, and I decide it’s time to break up the mushfest.

  “Come on, Doe,” I say as I start walking down the beach. “Let’s go.”

  I don’t watch as she says good-bye to Brody, and then she’s next to me and we’re almost to the water.

  “You keep volunteering for stuff like this. . . .” I drape an arm over her shoulder and squeeze. “Next thing you know Daddy will be appointing you Thalassinian ambassador to Nephropida.”

  “Ew, no thank you,” Doe says, shrugging off my arm. She blushes, like she’s uncomfortable with the idea of such responsibility. Then, in true Doe fashion, she says, “Maybe Costa Solara. I could use some work on my tan, and I hear the shelf off the coast of Belize is just breathtaking.”

  “Deal,” I say, laughing at her oceanista attitude.

  Then the time for teasing is over, and we’re walking into the water, heading out into the ocean and around the horn of Florida, then making our way on speedy currents to the Desfleurelle palace. As we travel, I realize I don’t have much of a plan. But I guess I don’t need one. I just want to talk to the king, to try and explain that sabotage isn’t the answer. Maybe he’ll listen and maybe he won’t, and later I’ll figure out the next step. But for today, I just want to talk.

  That doesn’t stop my heart from beating a crazy pattern as Doe and I wait outside the royal chamber for an audience with the king.

  “You need to relax,” she says.

  “I know,” I say, resisting the urge to say duh. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to speaking with kings and queens.”

  “Well, you’d better,” she says. “Your future holds kind of a lot of that.”

  This time I give in to the urge. “Duh.”

  Knowing and accepting are two different things.

  “His majesty will see you now.”

  I take a deep breath and, with Doe at my side, swim inside. The king is sitting behind his desk, looking a lot like Daddy when he’s working. Except where Daddy’s hair is salt-and-pepper gray, King Zostero’s is still inky black. Like Aurita’s.

  “Princess Waterlily,” he says with an overdone smile, “I did not expect to
see you again so soon. And Lady Dosinia . . .” His eyes narrow. “Such a pleasure.”

  “Mutual,” Doe says.

  “I think you know why we’re here, your highness,” I say. If I keep my tone respectful, maybe things will go better. Smoother. “I was right about the sabotage, and the oil rig accident was your first attack.”

  “Ridiculous. I cannot be held accountable for human mishaps.” His smile falls away. “What I wish to know, Princess, is where you got this false information.”

  “That doesn’t matter—”

  “Aurita,” Doe says.

  “Doe!” I gasp.

  “Trust me,” she mutters. Then, to the king, “Your daughter entrusted Lily with the truth, and she was right to do so.”

  King Zostero studies Doe for a minute, maybe trying to gauge her angle in the situation. The old Doe would definitely be doing this for some kind of benefit, but the new Doe . . . I think she actually has a plan.

  “My daughter has been prone to exaggeration in the past,” he says to Doe.

  “So have I,” she replies. “But not anymore. Aurita and I have both done some growing up. She wouldn’t exaggerate, not about this.”

  Doe meets his gaze head-on, and for a minute it feels like I’m a spectator at a staredown, waiting to see who blinks first. Zostero may be a mer king, but my money’s on Doe outlasting him. She has nerves of steel.

  “You are correct,” he finally says, breaking eye contact and turning to face me. “My daughter was not lying.”

  “Well . . .” I hadn’t expected such an easy admission of guilt. Now what?

  “I do not regret my actions, past, present, or future. Did you really expect to stop me?” he asks. “Either of you? You may not approve of my methods, but the end results will speak for themselves.”

  “What end results?” I demand. “What do you expect to win by injuring and killing humans?”

  “I wish to scare them out of our waters,” he says. “When they suffer enough losses—whether of life or money—they will retreat. Our oceans will be our own again.”