Just for Fins Page 3

  I smile, realizing that I don’t regret one thing.

  “Tellin,” I call out as I swim to him.

  “Liliana,” he says with a grin.

  When he turns to face me, I realize he’s not alone. At his side is a beautiful mermaid. She has long auburn hair that floats around her in soft curls, copper skin without a freckle in sight, and a bright teal tailfin that shimmers with flecks of pearly blue.

  Tellin tugs her forward. “Lily, I’d like you to meet my mermate, Lucina.”

  “I am honored,” she says, bowing her head. “What you have done for the sake of our people is beyond measure.”

  My cheeks burn with embarrassment. “It’s no big deal,” I say, trying to deflect the over-the-top praise. “Anyone would have done the same thing.”

  She lifts her head, and her eyes, the same pearly shade of blue as the highlights on her tailfin, meet mine. “No,” she insists. “Your sacrifice is extraordinary, and our people will be forever grateful.”

  “Oh, um, well,” I stammer. “You’re more than welcome.”

  “The news of our bonding was received with great cheer,” Tellin tells me. “You will forever be a heroine to the people of Acropora.”

  “I haven’t done anything useful yet,” I say, desperate to get off the subject of my nonimpressive heroics. “And speaking of that, why don’t we go somewhere private to discuss exactly what we are planning to say in this meeting.”

  Tellin nods and gestures for me to lead the way. As I swim down the hall, heading for one of the antechambers that connect to the royal chamber where the meeting will take place, I take a moment to focus on the magical connection between Tellin and me.

  To be honest, I’ve been worried. Being bonded to another merman while I’m in love with Quince . . . well, I don’t know for sure what to expect. There have been plenty of bonds of convenience in the history of mer royalty, but usually the royals in question aren’t dating anyone else. Definitely not dating a human.

  But I had no other choice. Bonding with Tellin and becoming crown princess was the only way I could be sure to make a difference in the underwater world. I couldn’t let my childhood friend and his kingdom suffer because I wanted a human boyfriend.

  I’m relieved to sense nothing more than the bonds of friendship.

  “Here we go,” I say, swimming into the empty antechamber.

  It’s a small, windowless room painted a calming shade of conch-shell peach. Arranged around a low center table are four scroll-shaped chairs. I float over to one and sink down onto the stone surface.

  Lucina hovers in the doorway. “I shall leave you to your planning.”

  I twist back to look at her.

  “You don’t have to go,” I say, feeling awkward that she thinks she can’t stay. We’re not going to be discussing kingdom secrets or anything.

  “No, truly,” she says. “I only wished to meet you. Now I would very much like to visit the palace gardens I have heard so much about.”

  “I will come find you when it is done, my love,” Tellin says. He presses a kiss to her cheek.

  When she’s gone, Tellin swims over to the chair opposite mine.

  “She’s lovely,” I tell him. “She seems very sweet.”

  His smile is one of pure love and adoration. “She is an angelfish.”

  “I’m very happy for you.” And I am. Love is a gift. I know how it feels to love and be loved in return, and I’m glad my friend can feel the same.

  “Thank you,” he replies. “As I am happy for you.”

  I give him a quick smile and then shift my focus to business. Now that we’re alone in the antechamber, it hits me hard that we’re about to host a council meeting. We need to talk through our plan so it goes as smoothly as possible.

  “I think the meeting will be pretty straightforward,” I say. “I’ll start by thanking them for coming, and then . . .”

  I trail off as I realize Tellin is staring at me with a very confused expression on his face.

  “What?” I ask. “Did you want to start the meeting?”

  “No, I . . .” He shakes his head and smiles. “You do know that your hair is blue?”

  I reach up and pull my hair to one side, trying to hide the blue section behind my hands. “Yes, I know.”

  He nods, and I can tell he’s trying to stifle a laugh.

  “Can we focus on the important issue, please?” I say, tugging at my hair. I channel my embarrassment into professionalism, sitting up straighter in the chair and leveling a serious look at Tellin. “We’re speaking at a council meeting in less than an hour, and I’d like to feel prepared when we swim in there.”

  “Yes, of course,” Tellin says, his demeanor floating back to serious. “Please continue.”

  “As I was saying . . .” I give him a stern scowl. “After the introduction, I will turn it over to you, and you can describe the situation in Acropora. Then I will make the official request for aid.”

  “That sounds like an ideal plan,” he says, his voice soft and sad. “I will have no trouble describing the challenges facing my kingdom.”

  I sigh. “I know. But just think,” I say, trying to sound cheerful and optimistic, “in a short time we’re going to be well on our way to getting your people the help they need.”

  He doesn’t look quite as optimistic as I feel. “I hope you’re right,” he says. “I certainly hope you’re right.”

  “I know I am,” I insist. “Our kin will rise to the occasion. I’m sure of it.”

  “Is everyone here?” I ask, swimming back and forth in the hall outside the royal chamber.

  Daddy’s secretary, Mangrove, checks his clipboard. “Nearly all, Princess.” He runs his finger down the list. “I believe we are missing but one.”

  “Let me guess.” I pause my pacing long enough to look at him. “Queen Dumontia?”

  “Yes, Princess.”

  I exchange an unsurprised look with Tellin.

  Dumontia is queen of Glacialis, a mer kingdom far to the north, in the arctic waters around Canada and Greenland. She is notoriously late, and not just because she has the farthest to travel. She enjoys making an entrance.

  “But the others are here?” I ask, my stomach starting to tighten. “All the kings and queens?”

  Mangrove nods. “It is time.”

  “Oh, boy,” I mutter.

  Tellin reaches out and takes my hand.

  “Are you ready?” he asks.

  A flutter of nerves upends my stomach, but only for a second. I remind myself why I’m doing this and what I expect to happen. Everything will be fine.

  “Yes,” I say, squaring my shoulders. “Let’s do this.”

  Together we turn to face the chamber door. A pair of palace guards nod and then pull open the doors as we approach.

  “Your highnesses,” Mangrove calls out as Tellin and I swim into the chamber, “Crown Prince Tellin of Acropora and Crown Princess Waterlily of Thalassinia.”

  In my most elaborate late-night imaginings, at the announcement of my entrance the entire chamber turns and stares at me, curious about the girl who dared call them to a council meeting. I imagined a mixture of anger and annoyance, and a lot of impatience.

  In reality, as the echoes of the herald’s announcement fade and I float into the room, no one seems to notice.

  Seriously, the thirty or so merfolk seated around the council table—a wide stone slab the size of my bedroom in Aunt Rachel’s house—don’t stop chattering in their various groups. Eight of them are kings and queens of other mer kingdoms, while the rest are their advisers and attendants. Even Daddy is so engrossed in a discussion with jolly King Bostrych of Trigonum, Thalassinia’s neighbor to the north, he doesn’t realize I’ve arrived.

  For a moment, I relish the invisibility. I scan my gaze over the chamber’s occupants. Some are familiar to me; the leaders of the kingdoms nearest Thalassinia have been frequent guests at our royal events and celebrations. Others, from the more distant kingdoms, are only
faintly familiar. I must have met them at state affairs once or twice, but I barely remember them. A couple are new rulers. I remember Daddy sending me notice of the death of the old king of Marbella Nova a couple years ago. One of the unfamiliar faces must be his daughter, Otaria, now the queen. And the queen of Rosmarus retired last fall, after a reign of nearly one hundred years, leaving her nephew as king. I can’t remember his name.

  It is a little exhilarating to be in a room with so many powerful merfolk.

  “Lily,” Tellin whispers, releasing my hand and nodding toward the head of the table.

  I nod back. I know what he’s trying to tell me, that I should stop gawking and get on with it.

  I swim around the edge of the room, past the arguing king of Desfleurelle and queen of Costa Solara—the two kingdoms are neighbors and notorious rivals, so it’s not surprising that they’re arguing—and around the queen of Antillenes, who is in a hushed conversation with two members of her retinue.

  As I pass her, my fin kick must disturb her hair, because she glances up. Her attendants look up, too, and I feel their gazes on me as I continue, taking my place at the end of the table.

  Their attention must catch the notice of the other monarchs and attendants, because as I turn to face the gallery of assembled kings and queens, every single eye in the room is fixed on me.

  I suck in a sharp breath.

  And I thought delivering a speech in English class was terrifying.

  Tellin passes behind me, taking his place at my side. One pair of eyes in the room shifts to Tellin. His father, King Gadus, does not look pleased. Tellin was not even certain if his father would be here to participate in the council. Not only because Acropora’s king is ill, dying from the effects of ocean warming that are slowly but surely destroying his entire kingdom, but also because he resisted calling a council of kings and queens for so long. Until recently, he was too proud to allow even his son to ask for help. It seems he’s still not entirely thrilled at the idea.

  I haven’t seen King Gadus for several years, but he looks decades older than the last time. His salt-and-pepper hair is thinning, his cheeks are hollow, and his skin is looser than it should be. But he’s here and—if the simmering look in his brown eyes is any indication—ready for a fight.

  I grip the stone table with both hands, squeezing tight to give my nerves a way out. It’s not enough. My mind freezes as I confront all the faces awaiting my words—if not eagerly, then with annoyed anticipation. Everything Shannen taught me about public speaking, everything Daddy told me about making a presentation to the council, everything Quince said to help me relax, knots up in my chest, and I start to feel like I might faint.

  I’ve never thought of myself as a coward—except where my crush on Brody was concerned, though that seems like a silly thing now—but I really don’t think I can do this. My muscles tense, and I’m ready to bolt for the door, when I feel a pressure on my wrist. I look down to see Tellin’s red-freckled fingers slip over mine.

  I stare at our hands, and it’s like a wave of calm washes up and over me. Instantly, my heart rate slows, and I can practically feel the adrenaline in my bloodstream oozing away.

  I look up at him, startled.

  He smiles, his eyes steady and reassuring, and I feel it. It’s like his calm certainty becomes mine.

  The bond. I smile back. I really needed this right now.

  Taking control of my emotions, I look up and face some of the most powerful merfolk in the seven seas. I suck in a deep breath, prepare the words in my mind, and open my mouth to speak.

  “Wel—”

  “What in all the oceans is this about?”

  Everyone turns to look at the door, where Queen Dumontia—in all her icy-blue glory—is sweeping into the room like a wave into a tide pool. Her long, beautiful hair swirls around her, creating an aura of silvery white. The look on her face is as stark as the arctic world she rules. Stony and cold.

  My stomach backflips.

  “Queen Dumontia of Glacialis,” Mangrove calls out belatedly, his voice quivering.

  She tosses a dark look in his direction, and he quickly backs out of the chamber.

  “You are right on time, Queen Dumontia,” I say, trying to keep the fear out of my suddenly tight voice. “We were just about to begin.”

  She washes her gaze over the room, maybe to find an empty seat for herself and her bodyguards, or maybe to give everyone a nasty look. When she spots a vacant chair between King Zostero of Desfleurelle and one of Queen Cypraea’s advisers, she swims over the entire table to get there.

  As she settles into her seat—the bodyguards taking their places behind her, in very military-looking stances—she mutters, “I can’t believe we had to answer the request of a mere child. Again.” She cuts a look at King Zostero. “Probably as much a waste of time as the one your brat called.”

  The silence of the room only makes her comments resonate more.

  In that moment, as scared as I am, I am also annoyed. I am not a child. I am a crown princess. It is my right—and my duty, in this instance—to call a council of kings and queens.

  If she doesn’t like it, then she can just deal.

  I clear my throat, drawing back the attention of the room. Even Dumontia reluctantly turns her gaze on me.

  I avoid that gaze as I begin.

  “Welcome, kings and queens of the Western Atlantic,” I say, maintaining my calm even as Tellin pulls his hand away. “Thank you for coming all the way to Thalassinia. I have called you here today to request your help. One of our sister kingdoms is in trouble”—I glance at Tellin and find him looking solemn and concerned—“but together I know we can help. Crown Prince Tellin of Acropora will tell you more about the problem.”

  I float back a bit to let Tellin share his part. I watch the gathered assembly as he talks about the dying ecosystem, the mass emigrations, and the bleak future of his kingdom. My emotions well up, and I expect to see matching tear-glittered eyes in the rest of the room, but I don’t. Everyone is listening attentively—even Dumontia—but they look kind of unaffected.

  Maybe they’ve learned how to mask their emotions better than I have.

  When Tellin finishes his part, I float forward and prepare to make the formal request.

  “As you can imagine, Acropora is in desperate need of our help.” I look out over the crowd, trying to make eye contact with as many rulers as I can. “That is why we have called you here. To ask for pledges of support. What Acroporans need most right now are food and first aid, but that will only help in the short run. They also need long-term assistance in the form of broader trade routes and refuge in other kingdoms and, ultimately, in rebuilding their ecosystem.”

  I clasp my hands together as I finish, proud of myself for making it all the way to the end of my thoughts without stumbling once. I look out eagerly at the room.

  It feels like an eternity before anyone responds. My heart beats faster, and I have to squeeze my hands tighter to keep them from shaking. I’m facing down the most powerful merfolk in my corner of the ocean—and their entourages—and they’re looking at me like I’ve asked for a great white-themed birthday party.

  When someone—Queen Dumontia, of course—finally speaks, I twirl to face her with equal parts anticipation and fear.

  I shouldn’t have bothered with the anticipation.

  “How dare you?” she demands, and I swear I can feel her chill all the way across the table. “To ask for generosity in times such as these? Acropora is not the only kingdom suffering the effects of environmental change.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “So are we.”

  “Us too.”

  As several kings and queens chime in, I glance around the table. “What do you mean?”

  “The polar ice caps are melting,” Dumontia says. “The saline concentration in our waters is fluctuating, and the plankton at the base of our food chain is dying. All levels of our ecosystem are suffering subtle but ultimately catastrophi
c changes.”

  “I—I’m sorry,” I say, focusing on sounding intelligent and not standing there slack-jawed at the confession. “I didn’t know.”

  I mean, of course I knew about melting polar ice caps. Everyone who’s taken a science class in the last decade knows about melting polar ice caps. But I hadn’t made the connection between that and the northern mer kingdoms.

  I should have realized.

  “Perhaps we can help you, too,” I suggest.

  “And what about Desfleurelle?” King Zostero asks. “That pipeline leak was far worse than the human news reported. Millions of gallons of oil flooded our waters, drowning surface species and coating acres of marine life with an oily film.”

  “You have received aid,” Daddy says, and I’m grateful for him stepping in to help. “From several kingdoms, including Acropora. Can you not return the favor?”

  “A reluctant handout,” Zostero counters. “Your kingdom’s leftovers.”

  “The oil reached our kingdom as well,” the queen of Costa Solara chimes in. “None sent aid to us.”

  “That little spill is nothing to the overfishing in our kingdoms,” the queen of Nephropida adds. “Every year, finding enough food to feed my people becomes more and more difficult. Not only in my kingdom’s waters, but in Trigonum and Rosmarus as well.”

  The kings of those two kingdoms nod in agreement.

  “Perhaps you should not have cut off trading with all kingdoms in the south,” Daddy argues.

  “You are so naive,” Dumontia says to me, ignoring everyone else in the room as their voices escalate, “to think you could call this meeting and hold out your hand to help your boyfriend.”

  “He’s not my—”

  “To think one kingdom is in any greater need than another,” she interrupts. “It is pure fantasy.”