“You can come out now, Coral,” her grandmother said, though she made no effort to look at her granddaughter over her shoulder.
The casual way she spoke didn’t startle Coral. How could I have thought she was unaware of my eavesdropping?
The merwoman made it her job to keep up with the kingdom gossip.
“Good evening, Grandmother.” Coral dipped her chin to her chest as she swam up beside her.
Her grandmother waved a waiter over. He nodded and produced a tray of delicacies full to the brim with more jellied kelptinis and a few whipped sunrise brûlées. The waiter handed Coral the latter and quickly swam on to the next group of guests.
She tasted a spoonful of the creamy, tangy concoction. The texture stuck to the roof of her mouth and eased down her throat. The overpowering sweetness of it made her queasy, so Coral resolved to hold the dessert, if only to keep her hands from fidgeting.
Grandmother nodded to a passing nobleman, who bowed his head in return. “Are you enjoying your party?” she asked Coral.
“Well enough.” If “well” meant she’d rather be anywhere else.
“I expect you’d enjoy it more if you didn’t spend so much time hiding.”
The statement could have been harsh, but it wasn’t. The sparkle in her grandmother’s champagne eyes released a burst of harmonizing notes—encouragement. Understanding. Grace. She didn’t mention Coral’s oldest sister or bring up their conversation. This was her grandmother’s way. She could be trusted with secrets. She would not betray any of her granddaughters by speaking of them behind their backs.
“I expect you’re right,” Coral said.
“Have you prepared your performance?”
Coral’s rib cage closed in, squeezing her lungs and heart until they were ready to burst. Breathe, Coral. You don’t have to sing. Not yet. Maybe there’s still a way out of it.
“Father wants to match me tonight, doesn’t he?”
Her grandmother turned to her then, placing her free hand on Coral’s cheek and stroking it with a tender thumb. “We’re all made for something. And you, my darling, have so much to give.”
The answer wasn’t an answer. Or maybe it was.
Coral studied her eyes. Her own burned and she blinked the sensation away. “What if I don’t want to give it? Not this way—not to someone I do not love.”
“If you ever find love, true love, hold on to it.”
She clung to her oldest sister’s words. There had been an urgency behind her gaze when she shared them. And something told Coral her sister had never shared this belief with anyone.
Which made those words of so much more value and worth than even the pearls adorning her waist.
“You’ll find your voice, eventually.” One more stroke against her cheek before her grandmother lowered her hand. “And the one who hears it? Who truly stops to listen? He’ll be the finest match in all the oceans, won’t he?” She winked and sipped her last drop. “Now then, this is a party. I suggest you find a nice young merman to ask you to dance.” And just like that, her grandmother switched from profound wisdom-giver to carefree father-supporter.
Was it difficult for her? To have a son as gray as the king and a granddaughter as vibrant as Coral? To love and support them both when they were as different as land and sea?
“Go on,” she urged, forehead wrinkles smoothing. “Might as well have some fun if you have to be here.”
The thought of joining hand in hand and hip to hip with a stranger gave Coral almost as much anxiety as singing in front of a crowd, especially if it was for the wrong reason. Fun? That was the last word she’d use to describe the situation.
But her grandmother never took no for an answer. “You heard me. Enjoy yourself.” She shooed Coral with one hand.
Coral suddenly found herself amid twirling couples. The orchestra struck up a new tune as graceful as a manta ray’s glide. Those who danced floated about as if they’d rehearsed in sync for some time. The same moves on repeat. Left, two, three, turn. Right, two, three, turn. Bow, dip, pivot, glide. Coral’s pulse accelerated. A merboy around her age caught her eye and began swimming toward her. She avoided his gaze, finding a rather interesting light fixture to study.
A server whipped by, cocktail tray raised with a crooked arm above his head. He didn’t even stop to offer her an hors d’oeuvre. Which was fine. She wasn’t hungry anyway.
Swallow. Relax. Breathe.
I. Can. Do. This.
How hard could this dancing thing be?
Dishes clattered, rattling Coral’s nerves and lighting a blaze of orange before her vision as the merboy moved closer. He wore black and white, same as everyone else. The required attire made the absence of color seem almost purposeful. The lack of hue was a splendor all its own. Despite the muted shades, a rainbow burst before her vision with each key change. New notes invited shifting tones. They darkened, lightened, twinkled, and flashed. This was her world.
And she was drowning in it.
Coral touched her daylight hair. Ran her fingers over her grumbling stomach and traced the edge of her out-of-place tail. The other merwomen wore lengthy skirts of dark, drab seaweed, their hair slicked in tight twists atop their heads.
Coral had tried to fit in, using a bit of Jordan’s eel gel to tame her unruly locks. The goo had darkened the strands immensely, making them seem more midnight green than midday gold. A belt of black pearls hung from her waist, matching her necklace and earrings, birthday gifts from her sisters. She’d messed with Jordan’s eyeliner, attempting to frame her bright eyes in shadows. The resulting reflection sent chills deep into Coral’s marrow.
She closed her eyes. Who was she? Someone her father would approve of? Or merely a pawn in his game? Someone born to play a role she’d never fill?
“Won’t you join the festivities, Princess?”
Opening her eyes, Coral prepared to greet the merboy and accept his offer to waltz.
But he was not the one who waited before her.
Jordan’s suitor, Duke, floated inches away, smelling of too much cologne and oyster tonic.
Coral raised an eyebrow. “Duke.” When she backed away, Coral nearly bumped into another couple. “Nice to see you.” The lie almost sounded believable and she smirked. Maybe she was better at smooth speech than she believed.
Duke shook his head. “Is it?” He held out a hand. “Then humor your brother and grace me with a dance.”
Ahem. “You’re not my brother yet.” Coral gripped his hand firmly, squeezed, then released. “Perhaps another time. I need to find our future queen.” Or anyone, for that matter. Where had the merboy gone? Couldn’t he swim faster?
“What better time than at your own ball?” Duke eyed her up and down.
The intrusiveness of his gaze wrapped Coral’s nerves in jellyfish tentacles.
He withdrew a small mirror from the inside pocket of his waistcoat. Duke didn’t take his eyes off his own reflection as he uttered his next words. “Daddy loves his parties, doesn’t he?”
Cringe. She’d almost forgotten he referred to their father as “daddy” when he wasn’t around.
Gag me. What could Jordan possibly see in this merman?
Maybe nothing. Because their father had chosen him.
“Where is Daddy, anyway?” Duke checked his teeth. Pocketed the mirror once more. “He’s missing the celebration.”
“I’m sure I don’t know.” And she wouldn’t tell Duke if she did. She narrowed her eyes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”