Before Coral could escape, Duke grabbed her left hand and drew her in. His chest pressed against hers. A wall. A prison. Dark and void of color or sound.
A soundless, inky cloud of nothing exploded before her vision.
“I asked you to dance.” His voice warbled, far off, though too close. His tight grip crushed Coral’s hand to a near breaking point. “It’s rude to decline a gentleman.”
Stay here, Coral. Stay now. Don’t lose the color. Don’t lose the light.
“You’re no gentleman.” She pulled and tugged, forced herself to rise from the darkness. Whipped at his tail with hers. “And I don’t want to dance.”
She fought against the shadows. Against the blankness threatening to take her away.
Duke’s palms, colder than the water surrounding them, were slime against her skin. “Have I offended you in some way, dear sister?” His wicked grin could slay an army of sea monsters. “A racing pulse.” The grin turned ravenous. “Are you nervous? Or perhaps a better word would be . . . Diseased?”
He could sense it? How?
“Do us all a favor, Princess.” He released her.
She was shaking. The earthquake inside her bones rivaled a shifting seabed.
“Go for a swim in Red Tide. Maybe then my wife-to-be can stop acting so cold toward me, worrying she’s going to end up like your wretched older sister.” Duke turned, weaved his way through the crowd, and wiped his hands on his tail.
Did he think she was contagious?
We’ll see about that.
“Be bold. Be brave. Even if you don’t feel it, act it. This is the way of a true princess.”
Stored insights from her grandmother soothed Coral in a way nothing else could.
She straightened, becoming her own calm. Shoulders squared and bubbles in, she followed him despite her fear. Everything in her wanted to jet in the opposite direction.
But Coral had no intention of allowing Duke to believe he held any amount of control over her or her family.
When she reached him at the edge of the ballroom floor, she tapped his shoulder. Hard. Attempted to speak up for herself as their grandmother and the crown princess had both taught her. “Duke. It must have been the band’s vibrations you felt. Red Tide is as far from me as the depths of the Abyss. And you’ll take care not to speak of your next queen in such a manner. What would Daddy think if he heard his almost son-in-law had failed to show respect to one of his daughters? Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
For once, the color crimson wasn’t so menacing. The embarrassment blooming on Duke’s cheeks was worth the nausea that rose as she left him in her wake.
She swam around the edge of the ballroom. Purpose and pace drowned her nerves. Keeping with the tempo, she aimed for the row of sand-sculpture chairs one tier below the king’s balcony where her sisters would shortly reside.
“Princess, would you mind—”
Coral ignored the address. Stopping for a chat was obviously not a good call. Not after her encounter with Duke. If he could see the Disease, who else might notice it?
“Princess Coral, Princess Coral!” This time it was a child whose attention was piqued by the sight of her. She waved frantically, attempting to pull away from her guardian. “Princess Coral!”
How could she ignore this child? Coral paused midswim, redirected her attention toward the mermaid who couldn’t be older than six. Coral laced her fingers and met the little mermaid’s eyes. Cleared her throat. “Yes?”
The maid peered up at Coral through big dark eyes the size of sand dollars. “You’re pretty. Sparkly. Not like the others.”
Coral’s pulse picked up again. She self-consciously touched her greased hair. Her glittered skin. “Others?”
“Your sisters. The dark ones.” She pointed to Coral’s tail. “You’re different. You shine.” The words rolled off the mermaid’s innocent tongue.
And something cracked in the armor Coral had been so careful to construct.
A strange shift took place. Coral’s lashes tingled and her lids throbbed. Then a single tear, as real as the heart beating inside her chest, surfaced. She caught it with her knuckle before it slipped past her lid, hoping the small mermaid didn’t see.
But the O shape of the child’s mouth and the expanse of her gaze told Coral everything she needed.
The mermaid saw. She knew.
“Mama, did you see—”
“Hush, Ellesyn.” The mother offered an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, Princess. She doesn’t know any better.”
“She’s all right.” Coral stopped, breathed, looked deeper into the mermaid’s eyes. The darkest shade of turquoise she’d ever seen. A hidden gem, but it was there, producing the sweetest, most innocently colored sound Coral had witnessed yet.
This mermaid was not a stranger to tears. A silent secret passed between them as Ellesyn’s mouth turned up and her eyes glinted.
Could the Disease be more common than Coral thought? Maybe if they stopped hiding from it, they could begin to understand it like never before.
Coral’s mind whirled, hope swelling and thoughts dancing. She had to tell the crown princess. If her sister knew more shared her tears, perhaps she wouldn’t feel so alone.
Coral didn’t care about the party or her guests or the wrath that would inevitably follow if she missed her debut.
Determination in tow, she aimed for the exit.
She didn’t bother glancing back. Not even when the shell horns sounded.
Not even when they announced her name.
Eight
Brooke
After
A giant bay window overlooking a stretch of grass allows the sun’s natural light to warm the gathering room’s cozy space. Silk flowers grace every surface from the bookshelves to the windowsill.
I shield my eyes and find the trash can, picking at my brownie and gulping the milk. Anxiety over having food in my mouth when I’m inevitably called upon begins to fester. I finish my dessert and drink in a rush, then crumple the napkin and toss it into the trash before I place the glass on a low table. I swipe at the corners of my mouth as Jake enters the room.
“Happy Monday, ladies.” She closes the sliding door behind her and takes a seat on a poufy ottoman, setting a tote bag on the floor beside her. “Gather ’round, please. We have some fun in store today.”
I find a seat on the edge of one couch’s chaise, refusing to sit back and get too comfortable. That’s what she wants, isn’t it? The others may be too naive to see it, but she can’t fool me.
“Full disclosure?” Jake says once everyone’s seated. “I know it’s only January, and Valentine’s Day isn’t for another month. But for the sake of this exercise, we’re putting our hearts on the line.”
A few of the girls laugh, but the brownie in my stomach churns. Valentine’s Day? Why draw attention to a day that focuses on love when it’s merely a fantasy? I glance around, taking in the others’ expressions. Most keep their eyes trained on Jake. They’ve clearly fallen into her trap. The rest avoid eye contact at all costs, staring at the throw pillows in their laps or gazing out the window.
For these, there is still hope. The hope they’ll realize such a thing does not exist.
The sliding door opens and closes again, inviting everyone to face in that direction. The effect is one I succeeded in avoiding upon my own entry, though a twinge of pain knots my gut when a blush creeps up Hope’s cheeks.