Forgive My Fins Read online

  “Hey, Lily,” Quince says, entering behind me without bothering to knock. “I had to get gas on the way home, but I’m ready to go.” He stops when he sees the gull. “Is that a seagull on your refrigerator?”

  “A messenger gull,” I clarify, stepping forward to retrieve the message from the gull’s leg. Prithi finally realizes I’m in the room and starts her ritual weaving around my ankles.

  “Afternoon, Quince,” Aunt Rachel says. “Want something to eat before you go?”

  “No, thank you, ma’am,” he says, pouring on some seriously unnecessary charm. “My mama always told me not to swim on a full stomach.”

  They share a laugh—a human joke, I imagine—as I unroll the scroll. My heart jumps. I can’t help the little squeal of joy that escapes.

  “What’s up?” Quince asks, coming to my side and reading the note over my shoulder. “‘Come to the Hideaway.’ What’s the Hideaway?”

  “Only my favorite restaurant on the entire planet!”

  Daddy must be taking us to a celebratory last supper before the separation. I’m so excited that I actually try to hug the messenger gull, who just squawks and flaps his broad wings to keep me away. This draws Prithi’s attention, and she makes a grab for the bird.

  As I watch Aunt Rachel and Quince try to separate them, getting the gull out the window and Prithi into the living room, I just smile. Tonight is going to be such a huge relief.

  “You’re going to love it,” I say as we swim up to the front door of the Hideaway.

  “Why do you say that?” Quince asks.

  “Because”—I push open the massive wooden door, unable to hide my grin—“they don’t serve a single piece of sushi.”

  “Thank heavens.” But he laughs as he says it.

  Daddy first took me to the Hideaway for my twelfth birthday. I remember swimming through these doors for the first time, floating into a little piece of the human world under the sea. It’s a salvager’s paradise. The walls are covered in the rich brown deck boards of a Spanish galleon. All the tables and chairs are made from the square-cut bones of a pirate schooner. They set their tables with actual knives and forks—not a set of seasticks in sight.

  But my absolute favorite part is the giant column of glass filling the center of the restaurant. Inside that column is a true piece of land, a terrarium complete with grass, a small pine tree, and—this is the absolute best part—a pair of cardinals!

  I’m not sure how it works, how they get fresh air and sunshine, but it is an amazing feat of mer technology.

  As we swim up to the hostess counter, Quince looks totally in awe. “Nice,” he says. “Where’d they find all this stuff?”

  “The seafloor.” I shrug. “For centuries humans viewed the ocean as a dumping ground.”

  “Some of them still do,” Quince says.

  So true. “We just cleaned up the mess they left behind.”

  Before we can get into some kind of environmental discussion, the hostess swims up. “Princess Lily!” she squeals, her short parrotfish-blue hair waving around her head like a halo. “How nice to see you again!”

  “Hi, Tang,” I reply. “Is my father here yet?”

  “He’s in the captain’s quarters.”

  “Thanks.” The captain’s quarters is a small private dining room in the back. Its walls are covered in the crystal drops of countless ocean-liner chandeliers, making it feel like you’re eating inside a diamond or a giant geode. Daddy doesn’t usually care about privacy, so I’m not sure why he’s making the big gesture tonight.

  “Come on,” I say to Quince as I head for the room. “Let’s get this separation over with.”

  The second we float through the crystal-beaded curtain covering the door to the captain’s quarters, I know something is up. Daddy is not alone at the big round table. Graysby and Grouper are on one side of him, and Calliope Ebbsworth is on the other.

  “Oh, no,” I breathe.

  “What?” Quince asks, swimming closer to my side. “Is something wrong?”

  I just shake my head—it’s not like I can throw a fit before I’m a thousand percent certain of what’s about to happen. But I know. Daddy’s not settling for a rubber-stamped couples counseling. He’s bringing out the Challenge—an archaic three-test trial to prove irreconcilability. Otherwise Calliope and his advisers wouldn’t need to be here.

  “Lily,” Daddy says with a big smile. Then, still smiling, “Quince.”

  “What’s going on, Daddy?” I ask, trying to sound even tempered.

  As if he senses my internal freak-out, Quince’s hand comes up against the small of my back. I know it’s just the bond easing my emotions, but I’m thankful for the gesture.

  “I asked Graysby, Grouper, and Calliope to join us for dinner,” Daddy says as if nothing’s going on.

  “Greetings, Princess,” Graysby says.

  Grouper smiles. “Master Quince.”

  Quince nods at them.

  “Calliope,” I say to Quince, because I’m sure everyone else in the room already knows what’s going on, “is the Thalassinian bond facilitator.”

  “The what?”

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “She’s a mermate couples counselor.”

  “It’s a matter of protocol,” Daddy says as the server clears the table. “According to Thalassinian law you must prove due diligence in your relationship before you can declare for a separation.”

  “That’s a technicality and you know it,” I retort. “No one has enforced due diligence in decades.”

  I see the change in Daddy’s face, in his eyes, long before he speaks. He does not appreciate my questioning his judgment or authority in front of his subjects. “Whatever has happened in the past,” he says in his royal voice, “I choose to enforce it now. You are a princess of Thalassinia and therefore subject to greater scrutiny than her citizens.”

  “But Daddy—”

  “You are not above the law, daughter.” His eyes soften and he adds, “And you are not blessed with a surplus of time.”

  “Is that what this is about?” I kick up from the table. “You think I’m going to wind up bondless on my birthday? That’s why we have to go through this?”

  “Go through what?” Quince asks.

  Daddy does not acknowledge him. “Partly.”

  “I’ll have you know,” I rant as I swim around the table, “I have a mate picked out. If this blowfish hadn’t messed things up by kissing me, then Brody and I might already—”

  “Enough!” Daddy’s echoing shout silences me. In his brook-no-dissent tone, he says, “Whatever the situation back on land, the fact is, you are bonded to this boy.” He glances at Quince, giving him a curt nod. “You are subject to the law and my rule. You will go through the Challenge before I grant your separation.” Then, just so I don’t mistake his meaning, he adds, “Assuming you have proven the unsuitability of the match.”

  “What about Quince?” I ask, grasping at anything that might get me—us—out of this mess. “He can’t just disappear for a weekend. I mean, last weekend was bad enough, that was just a day—”

  “I have already sent a messenger gull to Rachel, asking her to give an explanation to his mother.” Daddy gives me a stern look. “You will not get out of this Challenge.”

  “The Challenge?” Quince asks. “What’s the Challenge?”

  Calliope speaks up, finally. “It’s terribly romantic, actually,” she says, making swoony eyes. “You and the princess will be sent to a deserted island for the next two days, with only each other and brief visits from friends and family for company.”

  “Deserted?” Quince repeats. “How deserted?”

  “You, me, and a palm tree,” I say.

  “Not even an island monkey?” he asks with a smile.

  I find myself smiling back despite my anger. “Maybe a seagull or two.”

  “This is serious, Lily,” Daddy says. “Calliope will visit you to evaluate your situation, as will I.”

  I rele
ase a heavy sigh as I sink back down into my seat. “I know.”

  If Quince and I can’t prove we’re an unsuitable match, Calliope has the same power Daddy has to deny the separation. I’m not sure why Daddy is doing this, but clearly we’re not getting out of it. Now that it’s begun, I just want to get it over with.

  “How soon do we start?” I ask.

  Calliope brightens. “Immediately.” She gathers her massive bag from the floor. “I will be happy to show you to the island and explain the rules.”

  I nod. “Let’s do it.”

  18

  The “island” is really a tiny atoll, a ring of sand-covered reef that peeks through the surface. At least the sand is deep enough to support some grasses and shrubby bushes and one sad palm tree that grows at a forty-five-degree angle to the ground. At the center of the ring is a blue hole, like a private plunge pool.

  “The rules of the Challenge are simple,” Calliope says. “For the next two days you cannot leave the bounds of the island. If you need hydration or salinization, use the blue hole.”

  “What about food?” Quince asks.

  Leave it to a guy to focus on his stomach. We just ate!

  “All necessary sustenance will be provided. You may choose to shelter on land, but I would recommend the pool.” Calliope seems way too excited about this.

  I guess it’s not very often that she gets to perform her full duties. Especially in the case of a mer-terraped bond. Humans in Thalassinia aren’t totally unheard of; we get a few each year. But usually they are so undeniably in love with their mermate that a separation is unthinkable. My situation is unique, to say the least.

  “You will be presented with three tests,” she says, positively glowing with enthusiasm. “You might not know you are facing a test at the time, but your performance will still be evaluated.”

  “Great,” I mutter.

  Quince asks, “So, we pass the tests, and then the separation goes ahead?”

  “They are not pass or fail,” she explains. “Your performance in the Challenge is evaluated by his highness and myself. At the end of the forty-eight hours, I will make my recommendation, but the king will make the final decision.”

  “Fine.” I kick at the sand. “Let’s get started.”

  Calliope clucks at me—yes, actually clucks. “I’ll leave you, then. Your first test will be administered in the morning.”

  She turns and dives into the sea, transfiguring from her finkini to her fin as she sails through the air. Great. I drop down onto the sand. The last thing I wanted this weekend was to be stuck on a stupid island with Quince. We were supposed to be separated by now. I’d been thinking, We’ll have dinner, then the separation, and maybe frozen sugar cakes for dessert. Not, We’ll spend two days together on a stupid island.

  I need to get back to Brody.

  Quince lowers onto the sand next to me.

  “I know you’re pissed,” he says, staring out at the ocean horizon. “I can feel it. But we’ll get through this, and then it’ll be over.”

  He doesn’t sound quite as eager for the separation as I feel, but he must want to get this over and done so he can get back to his regular life. A weekend on a deserted island wasn’t exactly in his plans, either.

  “Even though it’s partly your fault,” I say, although there’s not a lot of accusation behind my words—he didn’t know the mess he’d be getting into with that kiss—“I’m sorry you got dragged into this whole thing. My dad is taking it kind of disproportionately serious.”

  “No big,” he says with a shrug. “I mean, it’s not every day a guy gets to hang in a magical, mythical kingdom surrounded by beautiful mermaids.”

  He leans into me, nudging me with his shoulder. Like a buddy.

  Yeah, right. Beautiful. Not me. No one has ever looked at me and thought, Wow, that Lily Sanderson is one beautiful girl. On my best day, I’m cute. On my worst, a frizz-balled mess.

  “You’re being hard on yourself, aren’t you?” Quince asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” he says, rubbing his wrists on his knees. “I just get the feeling that you’re thinking negatively about yourself. I know that sounds ridiculous—”

  “No,” I interrupt. “It doesn’t. The emotional connection of the bond gets stronger the longer it goes on.”

  “Oh.” He turns to look at me. “So you were being hard on yourself?”

  I can’t see any reason to lie. “I guess so.”

  “Why?”

  “I just—” I feel kind of ridiculous talking to Quince, of all people, about this. With the bond connecting us, though, he’ll probably understand better than anyone right now. “I know I’m not beautiful. Underwater I feel almost pretty, but on land…” I hold out my already-frizzed hair as evidence. “I feel like a mess.”

  “You don’t think you’re beautiful?” His voice is low and uninflected.

  “I know I’m not,” I reply. “Not like Courtney or Dosinia. Even Peri has an elegant kind of beauty. I’m just…me.”

  Me, with the freckles and skinny legs and too-big lips and eyes. Who could find that attractive? I’m like a speckled ostrich.

  “You shouldn’t make assumptions about how others view you, Lily.” He sounds so sincere, I can’t help but look up as he adds, “Some people find beauty in chaos.”

  Without waiting for a response, he pushes to his feet and walks away. As I stare at his retreating back, I ask, “Hey, was that from a poem or something?”

  Just before he jumps into the pool, he says, “Or something.”

  I sit on the beach—staring after him and kind of wondering what the shellfish is going on—until the evening chill hits me. With the sun sinking below the horizon, the surface temperature drops a dozen degrees. Time to turn in for the night—at least I can warm the water in the pool to a decent temp. Tomorrow will bring the tests. As soon as Daddy and Calliope realize Quince and I are the worst match in merworld history, we’ll be separated and back home before you can say “Some people find beauty in chaos.”

  Now, why did that phrase stick with me?

  “Morning, sleepyheads.”

  Peri’s voice penetrates my deep fog of sleep. What is Peri doing in my bedroom? She’s never visited Aunt Rachel’s house.

  “Aren’t you two just as cozy as a pair of pearls in a puka shell?”

  I bolt upright at the sound of Dosinia’s sneering comment. I know Doe is not in my room—she hates the human world and wouldn’t set foot on the mainland if you paid her.

  The first thing I remember is I’m not in my room. I’m in the deep blue hole on Calliope’s Challenge island. And the second thing is that I fell asleep next to Quince so my temperature regulation would keep him warm too.

  Only sometime in the night we moved from sleeping next to each other to sleeping cuddled together.

  Roused from his sleep by my movements, he stretches his arms wide and yawns so loud, he practically roars. “Morning, princess.”

  Peri clears her throat with a pointed a-hem.

  Quince’s eyes finally spread open. His broad smile shows no shame—not that we have anything to be ashamed about. “Morning, ladies. What brings you to our fair island?”

  “The Challenge,” Peri replies with a smile. “I’m administering one of your tests.”

  With a strong kick, I jet away from his side. Giving Dosinia a skeptical look, I ask, “And why are you here?”

  She shrugs and purses her glossy lips. “Uncle Whelk asked me to help.”

  Thanks, Daddy.

  Certain I look like a fright, I try to tame my curls by running fingers through my hair. It’s so unfair that Quince can wake up looking exactly like he did when he went to sleep, only with sleepy eyes and pink cheeks.

  “So what’s the test?” I ask Peri, trying to ignore how Dosinia is eyeballing Quince’s bare chest. Maybe I should have made him keep the T-shirt on this time.

  “It’s going to be super-cool,” Peri exclaims
. “You’re each going to make a gift for the other.”

  “A gift?” I ask.

  “Yes.” She claps her hands. “I’ll stay in the pool and help you create your gift. Dosinia will go with Quince above the surface to make his.”

  “Are there any requirements?” Quince asks, proving that he’s actually awake and paying attention.

  “Nope.” Peri shakes her head. “Just that it has to be hand-made. And with Lily in mind.”

  This sounds dumb. How does my making a gift for Quince prove anything about our unsuitability?

  He doesn’t seem quite as skeptical. “Let’s get to it.”

  With a strong push off the ledge that has been our bed, he shoots toward the surface. Dosinia looks right at me as she says, “This should be fun.” Then she smirks and follows Quince.

  “Could she be any more obnoxious?” I ask once she breaks the surface.

  “Probably,” Peri says absently. “So what do you want to make?”

  I look around the hole. All I see is a reef wall dotted with brightly colored anemones and sea fans and other marine life. If this gift is supposed to be for Quince, I can’t use anything perishable like anemones or kelp. On land, those would just rot in a day or two and wind up making his room stink worse than it probably already does.

  “I have no idea, Per,” I complain. “The hole doesn’t have much to offer.”

  “Why don’t we explore some?” she suggests. “I’ll go up, you go down.”

  I shrug in agreement. As she kicks up to the top of the hole, I swim down. This is stupid. I’m never going to find something that Quince will—

  Before I even finish my mental whine, I see it. A perfect blue sand dollar, about an inch and a half across. Quince was fascinated by the sculpture in the starfish room, so maybe he’ll like this.

  I let Peri know I’ve found something. Her shadow moves over me as she swims down to inspect my find.