“Did you have to make a scene?” Jordan said, control leaving her voice with every word. “Father went to great lengths to throw you that party. How can you be so ungrateful?”
All Coral could say was, “Me? How could you be on his side? Our older sister needs us. Something’s wrong.”
Jordan rolled her eyes. “When is something not wrong with her?”
“This is different.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.”
“Enough.” Coral couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m tired of you speaking to me like a child.”
“That’s what you are, isn’t it? Our sister favored you, Coral. And Grandmother too.”
Coral caught a glimpse of her reflection in the water. Her expression was a mixture of shock. Understanding. Realization. Was this why Jordan acted so hostile toward her? Had she always felt so . . . unloved? Left out? Alone?
Jordan turned away, shoulders shaking.
The Disease, not overpowering but still present, rose to Jordan’s surface.
Coral’s heart twisted. The Disease affected all three of them? Why didn’t they talk about it? Why did everyone act as if discussing it was treason?
“Jordan.” Coral touched her shoulder, feeling like the older one, like their roles were reversed. “It’s okay to feel this way. You’re not alone. I’m sorry I never—”
Jordan shrugged her off. “Don’t presume to know how I—” She stopped. Caught a breath. “Don’t presume to know anything. Don’t you dare. You are nothing to me. Nothing.” The middle mersister dove beneath the water, swimming away, escaping before things turned too serious. Coral used to believe it was because of her sister’s cold heart. But it was precisely the opposite.
Did Jordan possess a hidden tear too?
The little mermaid collected her scattered emotions as her life played in scenes of color and sound through her memory.
Jordan, putting Coral down, trying to make her feel unworthy of her own station.
The crown princess, holding Coral close as Jordan looked on.
Their grandmother with one arm around Coral and the other around—
“Oh, Jordan.” Coral was about to follow her when fire illuminated the night sky. The vision reflected off the ocean’s surface, thousands of sparkling gemstones ready to become sunken treasure.
Boom, boom, boom.
The sight was glorious and mesmerizing and captivating. A grand orchestra of her own brilliant hues played in flourishes across her vision. Coral forgot the squall that waited below. She took in the beauty of the evening. And then, as quickly as they had begun, the sky bursts died, glittering in descending sparks that disappeared as each one kissed the water.
A new sound played out into the serene night. A sound so beautiful it lit the dark night, splashing the air with gold.
She’d heard that sound—that song—before.
Coral turned every direction, seeking the source. She swam closer to shore, and then closer still. And . . . there . . . on the sandy beach, a small boat rested. A single sailor sat within, a hand-size instrument pressed to his lips.
“Drown him,” Jordan would say.
“End him,” her father would urge.
“He’s a human,” the merfolk would titter. “A worthless, good-for-nothing human.”
But then her oldest sister’s voice—her very real and present voice—said, “Be careful.”
Coral whirled in the water.
The crown princess, pale complexion aglow beneath the moonlight, stared back at her.
Coral flung her arms around her sister. Skin like ice, the crown princess was a sculpture, frozen in time. And yet, it seemed her frail frame could break at any moment. “I was trying to get to you. I wanted to tell you—”
“Hush.” The crown princess caressed the little mermaid’s cheek with her thumb. “It’s nearly time.”
Fear wrapped itself around Coral’s heart, threatening to crush it. She needn’t ask to know what her sister referred to.
Red Tide. Was. Coming.
“No,” Coral said, panic striking her center. “Wait.” She wanted to tell her sister everything. About the tear. About Jordan. And the young mermaid at the ball with the secret behind her eyes. “You’re not alone,” was all she could manage.
But her sister’s downcast gaze and quiet resolve spoke volumes, though she said nothing at all. She’d accepted her fate, sure as the tides would change.
The human’s soft, melodious tune played in the background. Soothing the ache inside.
“Humans are not to be trusted,” the crown princess said. “Give your heart to one and you can never go back.” She removed the pearl bracelet she wore and slipped it over Coral’s wrist.
Coral heaved, her calm waning. She had no interest in humans and she didn’t want her sister’s favorite treasure. Not after hearing of her heartbreak. That, at least, was where their father had been right. Coral only wanted things to be as they had been. Exactly as they had been. Before.
Her sister stiffened her upper lip and stared toward shore.
Coral followed her gaze. The human’s music had ceased. He stood now, one foot outside the beached boat, watching them. His pointed gaze expressed concern, while his rigid stance showed a protectiveness Coral hadn’t expected.
“He’ll hurt you,” the crown princess said. “He’ll break you.”
Strange. The human didn’t look menacing. He seemed . . .
Apprehensive. Worried. Afraid?
A part of Coral wanted to find out the truth for herself. But she couldn’t let go of the future queen. Not yet. If she could find the right words and the perfect way to say them, her sister would understand. Red Tide didn’t have to be the end. Coral was sure of it. Her sister might have been ready to give up. But that was why she needed a sister who wouldn’t.
“I’m here,” Coral said, ignoring her own longing to discover a new world. With fresh words and reassurances on the tip of her tongue, she faced her sister once more.
The crown princess floated across the glassy surface, unmoving and facedown. When Coral turned her sister over, her expression appeared serene, happy even.
Someone shouted. The human pushed the small boat into the water, then climbed aboard.
Coral took her sister’s cold, lifeless hand. “Sister,” she said, her voice lost. She swallowed and cleared her throat. “Crown Princess?”
The last was a question that would never be answered. Her sister’s skin was colder now. Lacking the warmth of life.
A hundred soundless things happened at once.
The human rowed to her side. He spoke but Coral couldn’t hear.
Her instinct was to protect herself. To swim away before this boy could do harm.
But then a hand grabbed Coral’s wrist. Duke. He glared, murder in his eyes. His mouth moved but made no sound, at least none Coral could distinguish. She slapped him hard with her tail, tried to cry out, but her voice would not emerge.
The boy raised his oar in the air and swung it at Duke. The boat rocked. The merman’s eyes went wide. He released Coral and swam off.
Coward.
Conflicting emotions and thoughts tore her heart in two.
When she looked up at the human, she found fear in his expression. He breathed so hard his back rose and fell. He blinked and shook his head. As if steeling himself, the human boy reached down and lifted her sister into the boat.