I raised my brows. “What, that we’re half-breeds, less worthy than the rest?”
“Well, that, and everything else . . .” Mom sighed.
“I know the Lugh Sirens have traditionally stayed out of these matters, but with the research I’ve been doing, and the girls,”—my throat tightened—“I think it’s time we got involved.”
My father regarded me thoughtfully. “Only the most powerful members of each clan are invited to the summit. That’s you and me. With power comes both choice and responsibility.” He squeezed Mom’s hand. “Myallegiance is here—with your mother. But your path is yours to choose, son. And if you opt to fight, I’m certain many in the Lugh clan will stand with you.”
I nodded.
“Let’s eat,” Mom said, clapping her hands as she rose to fetch the pot from the stove.
Dad had stood too and was already slicing and buttering a loaf of bread at the counter.
I glanced at Mom as she slid back into her seat and began ladling food into our bowls. “What will you do while we’re gone?”
“The family businesses won’t run themselves. And I’d like to continue reviewing the research we’ve been working on.”
We ate, laughed, and talked until the soup was half-gone, the bread reduced to crumbs, and the fire faded to glowing embers. Only then did my father rise and kiss my mother goodbye.
Cold sliced at my skin as we stepped outside, the wind sweeping off the distant cliffs and roaring into the bay. But the sky was clear, stars scattered around a pale moon. The waves sighed as we walked the slick street past Morgana’s grandfather’s house, and my Tidescar ached.
Isla, that was her name—the girl I’d loved ten years ago. My boots slapping on the wet tar made me think of her now. We’d been walking to the beach from Saltmarsh Row, on this very same street, on a misty evening. She was laughing, her hand clasped in mine. Then she let go and stepped into the road, where a car burst through the mist. Its headlights were fierce like the putrid yellow eyes of a death-born demon. And I was too slow. She died in my arms.
I rubbed the space on my chest where my faded Tidescar burned as I followed my father over the rocks to the cool, moonlit sand. Casting myeyes to the stars, I whispered the apology I always made when I thought of her.
The waves crashed louder, and my Siren form stirred beneath my skin, aching to be released. I waded into the surf, the dark swell lapping at my hips, scales shimmering across my torso, arms, and back. Then, I dove beneath the water, my mind consumed by a single thought.
I’m going to see Skye again.
54
Morgana
Two guards with orange tails as bright as goldfish stopped us at the palace’s front door, an open archway in a carved marble wall lined with mosaics. Both had dark skin, striking features, and toned physiques, standing sentinel with their long spears crossed over the entrance.
Aarna swept us aside, moving to the front of the group.
“Princess.” The guards bowed their heads. “We didn’t see you there.” Their spears remained across the door. “Can we ask whatheis doing with you?” They were staring at Edward.
Aarna gestured a webbed hand at him, her gold bangles jangling. “That Drowned boy saved Pisceon’s life. He should be treated as a guest of honor.”
“And what aboutthis?” The guard turned his dark eyes on me.
“This—” Finn shot forward, drawing himself up to his full height and scowling at the Mer guard. “Thisis the last of the ancient Selkies. You will speak to her like you’d speak to a queen.”
“Finn.” I grabbed him by the elbow as heat spread to my cheeks and ears.
“Prince Aigéan is right. This seal girl is also a guest of honor. Now move aside, or I’ll tell my father you barred me from entering my own home.” Aarna stiffened, her dark tresses swaying with the swell.
The Okeanós guards moved out of our way, and we swam through the arched ogival entrance into vast open-air chambers. The airy room was constructed from marble, but every inch of its walls was painted with intricate designs.
Aarna guided us into another grand room, where a colorful and growing crowd, made up of Mer and a few Sirens, had begun to gather around a decadent table spread with delicacies. At the far end, five thrones stood watch, empty for now. I presumed the Okeanós family was somewhere among the guests.
Aarna must have spotted them, because she left us and rushed to a stunning woman with dark hair and gold jewelry, presumably her mother. Beside her, a dark-skinned merman with a blue mohawk and a sapphire tail to match pulled the princess into his embrace.
“Oh, my sweet daughter.” The Okeanós Mer queen wailed as Aarna collapsed into her arms, trembling with sobs. A younger merman—striking, with coffee-toned skin, sweeping blue hair like his father’s, and a neatly groomed mustache—rested a comforting hand on Aarna’s back.
“That’s Aarna’s brother, Prince Salil, Queen Samudra, and King Ali.” Glacies’s voice was tight as she watched the family grieve Princess Layla.
