arms between us. I can feel it. The one thing that held us together is
dissolving. Kurt is no longer my guardian. He’s my opponent.
“Oh, of course you’d never get mad at Tristan.” Kurt turns away
from Thalia. “Forgive me! Why would you have any sympathy for your
bastard brother when Lord Tristan is going to make you human? That’s
what you want, isn’t it?”
“I have never been ashamed of you.” She points her finger in his
face like a dagger. “Not now, not ever. But I see now that you will
never love me if I do what makes me happy.”
She turns away, running off the pier and into the shadows of the
boardwalk.
“Way to go,” I say.
“Oh, shut up,” he says, and I know he’s wanted to say that to me
for a long, long time.
“I don’t want to see you again.”
“Neither do I.” Without looking back, Kurt runs off the pier. He
shifts in the air. The violet of his scales catches the moonlight, and
in the swiftness of a dive, he’s gone.
The Sea Guard is gone.
The Thorne Hill Alliance has brought all of their wounded into the
Wreck. They turn the dinner tables into emergency stations. I’m lying
across the bar top with my dagger on my chest and my scepter in hand.
I make it turn on and off like a light switch.
Rachel walks past. “You fought well.”
“I think I’m dead and I’ve gone to hell,” I say. “Because you’re
being nice to me.”
She nods at Marty and keeps going to tend to the others.
“You saved my life,” Marty tells me. “I thought I was dead. I saw
a big light at the end of the rainbow, and it was Santa Claus holding
a ball of light. He doesn’t really wear red. He wears brown leather,
because when the reindeers get old, he uses them to make clothes.”
Kai comes around and takes the bottle from Marty’s hands. They
shake and she has to pry away his fingers. I think I hear her whisper,
“It’s okay.” But there are so many whispers I can’t be sure. I can
hear alcohol poured over wounds and the howl of pain that comes after.
When I close my eyes, I feel like I’m lying on the beach. The sun
is shining. The tide is coming to get me. Rising and falling. My mouth
is numb. I can’t feel my legs.
“I can’t go home,” I say.
“That’s what they say,” Marty says.
“My parents are having a new baby.”
Frederik passes by. I grab his hand. “I trusted her.”
“Sleep, Sea Prince.”
“I can’t.”
“You will.” He holds a dropper over my lips. The liquid is neon
and blue like the flowers in his library. I want to ask what it is.
But I don’t. It coats my tongue like honey. My eyelids are heavy, and
when I close my eyes, the scream is caught in my throat. I can only
see her face.
***
There are hands touching me.
Shaking me.
I open my eyes.
My head is pulsing. I say, “I know you. Bro.”
“Thanks, Cousin,” he says. “I know you too. Easy does it.”
My cousin Brendan lifts me up. That’s what family is for. Unlike
Kurt. He’s the worst family ever.
Part of me wants to complain and say this is totally emasculating.
The other part of me, the part that can’t even move, is totally fine
with being carried. I can hear voices. Frederik and Brendan. I can
hear hands clasping and lots of yes-I-understands and
I-can’t-believe-its .
Soft hands push my hair back.
“Where are we going?” I don’t like the way I sound. Like I’m five
and we’re taking a long trip and we aren’t even there yet.
“Just leave that up to me,” says my cousin Brendan.
There’s more movement. Some lifting. Another set of arms grabs
hold of me. Someone smacks my face with an open palm. “Drink this.”
I shut my lips to it. It smells like my underwear.
“Drink, Master Tristan,” Blue says.
I’m like, “Did you just smack me?”
No one answers.
I drink. The liquid warms my insides. It banishes the sleep. I can
feel my legs again. That’s the problem. I can feel everything again.
All of it. I choke on my own whimper. Real mermen don’t whimper. It’s
the alcohol. It’s the smelly tea.
“Rest, Master Tristan,” Arion says.
“Where did you guys come from?”
I’m lying on the deck of Arion’s ship. Brendan is modeling a very
black and blue eye.
“We arrived too late, it seems.” Arion hovers over me. The morning
sun hits his scales and their reflection blinds me. “Princess Kai
conch-called me. She’s below deck. I’m told we have a new rebellion on
our hands.”
“Everything is gone,” I say. I tell them about Kurt’s oracle.
Gwen’s betrayal. Archer and Frederik. I don’t spare any of it, because
I’ve been holding it all back and I can’t take it anymore.
After they let me vent, I don’t want to talk about me. So I ask,
“I thought you were off chasing adventure’s ass?”
“It sort of bit me.” Brendan points to his black-and-blue eye.
“That’s a different story, though. I felt terrible for abandoning you
while I was needed. I haven’t got many cousins, so I swam back to make
it up to you.”
“Oh yeah, and how’s that?”
He stands, and the wind blows his red curls all over the place. I
know that smile. I’ve worn that smile. That smile gets guys like us in
trouble.
“If you want your girl back and the sea witch gone, we have to get
you real power, the oldest known in all the seas.” He leans back and
rests his hands behind his head, admiring the blood-red sun.
“I thought that happens when we piece the trident back together.”
“There is another way.” Brendan shakes his head conspiratorially
and says, “We’re going to awaken the sleeping giants.”
It takes a village to raise a debut novelist. Among the residents
of this village whom I’d like to thank are:
Adrienne Rosado, my agent, once again for many things. You deserve
a prize (my first born?) (no really, I insist) for all that you’ve
done for me. For listening to all my doubts and complaints without
judgment. For always offering words of encouragement. But most
importantly, for sharing my love of bourbon and fried foods. Cheers,
my friend.
Miss Kelly Skillen, for letting me borrow you as the vampire
Madame of the Second Circle. Though it scares you, you are my hero.
To all of my wonderful Sourcebooks family, especially Aubrey Poole
and Leah Hultenschmidt. You’ve transformed this book, draft to draft.
Tristan and the gang are better for it. Derry Wilkens, the best
publicist a girl could ask for. Jillian Bergsma and the amazing
production and art teams for creating the sexiest merman books ever.
Tony Sahara, once again, for the epic covers, and my publisher,
Dominique Raccah.
Dharampaul Gopal, my oldest friend and partner in crime. (This is
not a confession if the FBI is reading.) Thank you for teaching
Tristan to play poker.
#1 Steven DeSiena. I pulled some of the epigraphs in this series
from the mermaid book you gave me!
My Ecuadorian tribe: the Medinas, the Guerreros, the Sterns, the
Córdovas, the Vescusos, the Laucellas, and the Ruscittos.
All of my old friends, new friends, and family who attended my
book events and supported me in this endeavor. I can’t thank you
enough.
To the fans who read these books. Tristan is a very happy merman
because of you.
The YA community of writers and bloggers I’ve met on the
publishing road. Especially the Apocalypsies for making this journey
less scary.
To the end of the world, and beyond.