Of Poseidon 02: Of Triton (16 page)

Rayna grabs Galen’s hand. “I don’t want to go to the center stone.”

“I know. Just stay calm. You’ll be okay.”

She shoots him a look. “You don’t believe that.”

“I believe it,
if
you keep your temper in check. Toraf is over there in section Triton. Just keep your eyes on him. Don’t look at the crowd.”

She takes in a breath. “I don’t say things the right way.”

“I know.”

“And he’s going to make me mad.”

“I know.”

“I shouldn’t have come back.”

I know
. Galen places his hand on the small of her back and propels her forward. He wishes she’d come just a little sooner—she could have changed into the traditional Syrena seaweed wrap for females. Now she has to take the center stone wearing the top half of a purple human swimsuit. Jagen can be relied upon to exploit that to his full advantage.

Rayna takes forever to reach the center stone. Jagen rolls his eyes.

Tandel greets Rayna warmly. “Thank you for honoring us with your presence, Highness. Jagen has expressed the desire for your testimony on the issues at hand. Please start with where you have been, princess. Jagen has reported that Trackers have not been able to find you.”

Rayna flounders for a moment, then straightens up the moment she finds Toraf in the crowd. It’s as if confidence has inflated her; she pokes her chest out and lifts her chin. Galen’s not sure if that’s good or bad. “I was on land.”

“I’m sorry, Highness, but would you mind speaking louder?” Tandel coaxes.

“I can’t,” she croaks. “My voice has left me.”

“How convenient,” Jagen sneers.

She crosses her arms at him. Beside Galen, Grom stiffens. There’s no telling what she’s about to say. But thankfully, Rayna seems to remember Galen’s advice to keep her temper. She uncrosses her arms and relaxes. A little. She looks at Tandel. “You can appoint someone to speak for me, if you want. I can’t talk, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have anything to say.”

Tandel nods. “Of course, Highness.” He motions for a female Archive, Atta, to come to the center. “Atta will assist you, princess. She serves on the council for this tribunal and is therefore a neutral party in these proceedings. Please tell her what you wish our friends in the Arena to know. She will relay your words.”

Rayna nods. “Fine. I said I could not be Tracked because I was on land.” Atta relays her answer to the Arena.

“And why were you on land, Highness?” Tandel asks.

Rayna mulls over this for a moment. She glances back at Galen in askance. He shrugs. He’s not sure how she should respond. The truth would be irretrievably condemning. But what could she possibly say that will make any sense? She turns back to Tandel. “I was on land because I was afraid for my life.” She waits for Atta to transfer her comment to the rest of them. Then she continues. “Everyone knows Jagen has been guilty of conspiracy for many seasons. I’ve known for a while that the Royals would be in danger somehow. Especially when he had Paca pretend to have the Gift of Poseidon.”

An irate Jagen swims to the center stone. Rayna halts him. “What do you think you’re doing? You can see that it’s my turn to give testimony.
You
wanted this, remember?” Atta looks as if she’d rather not repeat that, but Rayna gives her a reproving look. The Archive concedes. The Arena hums with scandal when they hear.

Jagen whirls on the crowd. “Do you hear the nonsense she has spoken? She’s calling into question your good judgment! You have already seen, have already decided for yourselves that my own Paca has the Gift of Poseidon. She has demonstrated it for you at your every request. This Royal is calling me, and all of you, liars! How can we trust anything she says? Look at her.” He points to her bathing suit top. “She wasn’t hiding from me. She was enjoying herself on land, living like a human. It seems having an ambassador to humans for a brother has been quite convenient for our young princess.”

Galen feels his throat constricting. The crowd is wild with agitation.

Rayna lunges for Jagen. “You slithering eel!” But her voice gives out and she sounds like an angry sea lion trying to make words. Jagen moves out of the way. Trackers seize Rayna and pull her back by the arms. She glares at Atta. “You tell them that I don’t like humans. You tell them that I was hiding from Jagen!”

Atta shouts over the disgruntled moans of the assembly, but it falls on deaf ears.

Then a voice speaks up, louder than everyone else. Angrier than everyone else. “She’s a liar!” The crowd grows silent.

Because the voice belongs to Toraf.

“What is he
doing
?” Grom says, nudging Galen’s shoulder with his own.

Galen watches as Toraf makes his way to the center stone and comes face-to-face with Jagen. Then Toraf, his best friend since they were fingerlings, bows to the traitor. Jagen seems as surprised as Galen feels.

“Toraf!” Rayna shrieks. “What—”

“Someone shut her up,” Toraf says, motioning to the Trackers who hold his mate. “I’m tired of listening to her lies.”

Jagen is still unsure. He narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“All the Royals are lying. They’re covering up for themselves. And I won’t be a part of it any longer.” Toraf makes eye contact with Galen. He doesn’t even flinch when he says, “Especially Prince Galen. He’s found a Half-Breed. He’s been hiding her existence from all of you.”

The entire Arena seems to gasp in unison. Toraf clasps Jagen on the shoulder. Galen feels like he’s swallowed a blowfish. “If you will forgive me for my part in it, Jagen, I vow to bring the Half-Breed to you. As proof.”

“No!” Nalia screams. She springs forward and almost gets her hands around Toraf’s neck before Triton Trackers move in front of him. She wrestles them with the sudden power of a predator. “You disgusting traitor! We trusted you. What have you done?”

Toraf rolls his eyes. He tells Jagen, “I cannot tell you how sick I am of that imposter. I can’t believe I almost helped them. I saw Paca’s Gift with my own eyes. I don’t know how I could have doubted your cause.”

Sheer delight spreads on Jagen’s face. He cocks his head back and laughs a toxic laugh. “You’ve done the right thing, Toraf. You are not as foolish as I thought.”

“No, I was. You give me too much credit, friend. But I can see now how they’ve tricked me.” Toraf turns to the Arena. “Just as they’ve tricked all of you for so long. They’re not worthy to rule. None of them. I will go and get the Half-Breed and prove to you just how untrustworthy they are. All of them know about her. Every last one. I challenge Prince Galen to deny it.”

Galen locks eyes with Toraf.
How could he do this to me? How could he do this to Emma?
Now everyone present knows of her existence. She won’t be safe anywhere, not with Jagen in control. Especially because Toraf, the best Tracker in Syrena history, has just vowed to find her and bring her here.

Which will be excessively easy, since he knows exactly where she is. She trusts him. Rachel trusts him. It will be so simple for him.
And I have no way of warning her, of getting to her. All I can do is protect her when she gets here.

Tandel quiets the crowd, one of his primary duties as of late. When he has achieved control, he turns to Galen. “Your Highness, would you like to address these accusations against you?”

Galen swims to the center stone without taking his eyes off Toraf. “If something happens to her because of you,” he whispers to his one-time friend, his voice raw with hurt, “your death will be my priority.”

Toraf opens his mouth to say something, but Galen cuts him off to address the crowd. There is nothing Toraf can say to him that will make this right. There is nothing Toraf can say to him that will hurt him more. “I have nothing at all to say to these accusations.”

Tandel sighs. “Very well, Highness. Thank you.”

Galen swims to the Trackers who hold his sister. His sister who now sobs uncontrollably. “Come on, minnow,” he says. “He’s not worth your tears.”

“Yes, he is,” she wails. The Trackers release her to her brother. They’re distressed with the task of comforting a hysterical female.

Galen squeezes her to him, but won’t let her turn around and look at Toraf. “He isn’t. In time you’ll see that.”

“Why would he bring Emma here, Galen? Why would he do this to us?”

Galen swallows the vomit creeping its way into his throat. “I don’t know, minnow. I don’t know.”

Below, his fin throbs with pent-up tension. But it’s nothing compared to the sharp ache in his heart. The twins take their place with the rest of the Royals.

Jagen claims the center stone. He can barely contain his glee. “Friends, we were hoping to end our debate today, which has turned out to be the greatest tribunal in the history of our kind. For many seasons, the Royals have produced generation after generation of useless heirs, heirs who have not shown evidence of the Gifts left to us by our great generals. How long has it been since we’ve seen the Gift of Poseidon from this Royal line? Too many seasons, I think. And how long has it been since we’ve seen the Gift of Triton? Friends, we cannot even remember what the Gift of Triton is!”

Jagen clasps his hands behind his back. Leaving the center stone, he approaches the section of Loyals, shaking his head. “We have not seen the Gift because the Royals have strayed. Paca is proof that they have strayed at some point. How else could she possess the Gift? Friends, if I truly believed they were pure Royals, I would serve them faithfully, along with the law they’ve been representing. But Royals with diluted blood are of no use to us. We must find a new way to survive. We must elect a leader who cares about us more than the human world. Someone who is strong enough to lead even as the Gifts disappear from among us.”

He turns to Tandel. “I do not ask that we come to a decision today. All I ask is that we let young Toraf retrieve the Half-Breed abomination. Only when we have this final, solid proof of the betrayal of the Royals will we be able to make a united decision.”

The masses roar with approval.

Toraf bows to them one last time before leaving the Arena.

17

I PULL
into the driveway of my house and cut the engine. I haven’t been here in days but it seems like years. I finagle with my key at the front door and all the smells of home smack me in the face.

I set my backpack on the counter and grab a bottled water from the fridge. It feels good to plop down on my own couch in the living room and stare out of my own bay window. Sure, Galen’s house has all the luxuries his fortune can buy. But home is full of luxuries money can’t buy. Like Grammy’s ugly crocheted blanket. Like the faint smell of Mom’s perfume.

Like privacy.

It’s been three days since Rayna ditched me. I’ve spent the bulk of those days with Rachel and it has been strangely awkward. She was furious when she found out what I did. I couldn’t even lie about it, because Paw and Don had gone on the local news to tell about their incredible mermaid story and the pale blond girl who showed up. So when I finally make it back to land, sopping wet and tired to the bone, Rachel is waiting for me with more attitude than a little woman like her should really possess. Along with the attitude, I sense a trace of guilt—maybe for not thinking things through. Because let’s face it, buying us jet skis wasn’t the most brilliant of ideas. Sure, I screwed up. But so did she.

When she was satisfied that I couldn’t be identified, she loosened up.

Until the coast guard showed up at Galen’s door, that is. They’d found my lost jet ski, but they were very sorry to inform her that it was not in running condition. After they left, she’d gone around the house throwing things, yelling how she hates when cops show up at her house and how they seem to show up all the time since Galen took an interest in me, and how she knew better than to register the damn thing with the state. After that fit, I felt weird being around her, mostly because after she apologized, she went way overboard in making it up to me.

Which is insane. After all, I
did
wreck her new jet ski and attracted the “cops” to her house. All of the things she said were true. But she’s having none of it. “You’re Galen’s sweetheart. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” She makes me breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She asks how my day went. She asks me what I want from the store. She does my laundry. She offers to give me pedicures. It’s too much. At least with Rayna here, she could divide her efforts between the two of us. Now I’m it.

A bolt of lightning strikes close somewhere on the beach. The weather channel has been calling for severe thunderstorms tonight. Looks like I made it right on time to excuse myself from going back to Galen’s for the evening. I call Rachel to let her know.

“You want me to come over? I don’t mind driving in it.”

“No, no,” I say a little too quickly. “That’s okay. I’ll be fine. You have a night to yourself.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ve had plenty of nights to myself.”

“Right. But, uh, my house isn’t as nice as Galen’s house. You probably won’t be comfortable here.”

“Psh. You know I can sleep anywhere.”

At this point I don’t know if Rachel is purposely dodging my hints, or if she genuinely doesn’t get it. “Actually, I’d like to be alone tonight. If that’s okay.”

Silence. Then, “Why? Anything I should know about?”

“Yeah. There’s no place like home.”

More silence. The kind of silence that suggests offense. If she is offended though, she keeps it to herself. “Well. Good night then.”

“Good night, Rachel.”

* * *

The power goes out about an hour later. The storm unfurling outside, minus the comforting hum of electricity in the house, plus the scary movie I’d been watching, equals my nerves rioting. We have a generator, but it’s in the garage and I wasn’t smart enough to keep a flashlight with me on the couch. Even if I was, I don’t actually know how to start the generator.

I stand and wrap the blanket around my shoulders, not because I’m cold but because, stupidly, I feel better protected against the unknown with an extra layer. Each time the lightning illuminates the room—which, thankfully, is often—I memorize the next few steps ahead of me before the dark takes over again. Making my way to the kitchen, I wait for the next lightning to flash so I can open the cabinet where Mom stores her heavy-duty flashlight. As I reach for it, the silhouette of a man’s shadow flashes like a black stain against the white cabinets.