A quiet gasp released from Jordan’s lips.
Duke’s upper lip curled.
“Coral . . .” Jordan sighed. “That is nonsense and extremely childish. Red Tide is a result of the Disease.”
“What if the Disease doesn’t have to end with Red Tide? What if there is a way to overcome it? What if—”
“Don’t be absurd,” Jordan said. “Red Tide wins. Every time.” Her glare said everything her words did not. Coral’s sister saw her as the little mermaid. It didn’t matter that she was sixteen now. Jordan wouldn’t listen to anything she had to say.
“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Duke said, poking an invisible knife into Coral’s insecurities. “Do you need someone to tuck you in?”
“No. I do not.” Coral’s voice quavered. Her eyes stung. She couldn’t let them see her inner defeat.
She turned to address Jordan. “Shall we swim to our chambers together?” Coral eyed Duke. If he was staying, she would not make herself vulnerable.
Jordan shook her head. “Father has given me our sister’s private suite. I am the oldest unmarried daughter now, after all. The suite is in a completely separate wing. It wouldn’t make sense for us to swim together.”
Her sister had no idea how much this newfound information sank Coral’s heart. Not only with the sense of abandonment, but part of Coral also wished to have the private suite herself. She and her oldest sister had been close. She didn’t want Jordan messing with her things before Coral had a chance to go through them.
“I have inherited her belongings as well,” Jordan added. “I will, however, be so gracious as to allow you to keep her pearls in your possession.” She eyed Coral’s wrist.
“Thank you for your kindness, Your Majesty.”
If Jordan detected the sarcasm in her sister’s tone, she didn’t show it. “Think nothing of it. Good night.”
Coral hesitated, but she would not beg for an escort. Not in front of Duke. Her fear would only encourage him. “Good night.”
Duke was nothing more than a sardine in merman’s clothing. A coward. And he would not make her afraid in her own home.
Coral’s lashes descended to her cheeks. She bowed her head and exited the hall. When she was out of sight, she swam as fast as she could to her now-private bedchamber. Maybe she could ask for a personal guard at her door. That wasn’t too grand a request, was it?
Down the long corridors she swam. Through the many arches and around the bends of halls. The eyes of her ancestors followed her, watching from their painted portraits. Some were old, with dull eyes void of life. Others were depicted in their youth, captured in candid action. Twirling at a ball. Rising to the surface.
Most portrayed mermen or maids she’d never met in her lifetime. The awareness was a fin slap to her face.
Few renderings existed of their family all together. Hardly any at all.
No portrait of her parents on their wedding day. There was a single painting of the king, of course, all majestic on his throne.
Then there was one of the crown princess, Jordan, and Coral. She was a baby in this one. The oldest held Coral in her arms while Jordan sat poised and separate, inches away from them as if she were sitting for an individual portrait. Even then, Coral’s sunny strands looked out of place next to Jordan’s silver hair and their oldest sister’s night-sky locks.
When she reached her chambers, muffled voices floated from inside. Coral floated closer to the ajar door and pressed her back against the wall.
“She can stay with me,” her grandmother said.
“I don’t care where she goes,” the king snapped. “She defied me. Shamed me in front of my own people. She has betrayed her family. She has betrayed us all.”
Coral covered her heart with one hand. The unexpected pain that rose at her father’s harsh words cut deeply. Though they were not close, and never had been, this final rejection crushed her. Would he have no compassion in the wake of his oldest daughter’s death?
The argument ceased and Coral retreated into the shadows, keeping as close to the wall as possible so the king wouldn’t see her when he passed. She watched him go and said a silent good-bye to the merman who didn’t want her.
She was . . . alone.
When she was certain he would not return, Coral took a breath and entered her chamber. Her grandmother floated here and there, gathering Coral’s things. The old merwoman did not look up when Coral entered. “It’s better this way,” she said, as if she knew her granddaughter had heard the previous exchange.
Relief and longing filled her heart at once. Coral loved her grandmother. The merwoman understood her more than anyone. But to leave this way? Rejected, unwanted, and full of unanswered questions? It didn’t seem right.
She wanted an explanation. Why had Red Tide turned her sister human? What about becoming as the foam of the sea? Coral could still feel the crimson water surrounding her. Thick like blood and smelling of something acrid. There had been no foam. Only death and the vision of her sister drifting away.
“Now then,” her grandmother said, snapping Coral’s trunk closed and tugging it behind her. “We’d best be on our way, dear. It will be dark soon.”
Without another word, her grandmother exited the empty bedchamber.
Coral examined the space, allowing it to sink in that she might never see the place again. She focused on Jordan’s pallet, then looked toward the sand-length mirror they had shared. Coral glanced at her own pallet then. The shawl she had worn the night with the crown princess at the surface rested across her pillow. She retrieved it, then swam through the arched doorframe.
Resolve hardened with each stroke of her tail.
She wouldn’t look back.
Her family had failed her. Only her grandmother and the human had bothered to care. Once they were safely out of earshot of the palace, hopefully her grandmother would have the answers Coral sought.
And if not?
Then I’ll have to find that human again.
Fourteen
Brooke
After
Thunder booms and lightning flashes, as if snapping a photo of the grave end scene. I sit on the shore with my back to a fallen log, hugging my knees to my chest, allowing myself the time I need to say good-bye.
I have all the time in the world now. This is my epilogue. Might as well make it mean something.
I’ll leave no note. No farewell video or parting voice mail. The single soul who might care I’m gone will forgive me. Someday.
“I guess this is good-bye,” I say to the wind while tossing a rock down shore.
The wind answers in whistles and gusts. As tormenting as it is to be near the sea, it’s far more devastating to be apart from it. This is where it happened. Not this particular beach, but the ocean is the ocean.
Whether here or there, she saw everything. She knows my secret.
And she remembers that it’s all my fault.
I’m freezing. Soaked to the bone from the rain. Good. I deserve it. I let the pain sink in. I have to suffer a little longer before I can be set free.
The breeze that followed me here catches my exposed skin, shooting chills up my arms and down my spine. I blow hot air onto my hands as I resolve to follow through. To sit here, unmoving.
The tide creeps closer. Higher.
Questions rise uninvited. Doubts sail forth, making me second-guess my decision.