“I’m home, Aunt Rachel,” I shout as I burst through the kitchen door after school on Friday. “I’m just going to drop off my backpack, and then Quince and I are heading for—”
I stop midsentence when I see the messenger gull sitting on our refrigerator.
Prithi is positioned in front of the fridge, tail curling slowly back and forth, silently daring the gull to leave his perch.
Aunt Rachel walks in from the hall. Nodding at the gull, she says, “He’s been here for two hours. Wouldn’t let me take the message.”
I roll my eyes. The note isn’t private, or the kelpaper around his leg would be pale pink instead of green. Messenger gulls are our primary means of communicating with our land-based and landlocked kin, but they aren’t always the most reliable. This one probably read a signal wrong and thinks this is a top-secret message.
“Hey, Lily,” Quince says, entering behind me without bothering to knock. “I had to get gas on the way home, but I’m ready to go.” He stops when he sees the gull. “Is that a seagull on your refrigerator?”
“A messenger gull,” I clarify, stepping forward to retrieve the message from the gull’s leg. Prithi finally realizes I’m in the room and starts her ritual weaving around my ankles.
“Afternoon, Quince,” Aunt Rachel says. “Want something to eat before you go?”
“No, thank you, ma’am,” he says, pouring on some seriously unnecessary charm. “My mama always told me not to swim on a full stomach.”
They share a laugh—a human joke, I imagine—as I unroll the scroll. My heart jumps. I can’t help the little squeal of joy that escapes.
“What’s up?” Quince asks, coming to my side and reading the note over my shoulder. “‘Come to the Hideaway.’ What’s the Hideaway?”
“Only my favorite restaurant on the entire planet!”
Daddy must be taking us to a celebratory last supper before the separation. I’m so excited that I actually try to hug the messenger gull, who just squawks and flaps his broad wings to keep me away. This draws Prithi’s attention, and she makes a grab for the bird.
As I watch Aunt Rachel and Quince try to separate them, getting the gull out the window and Prithi into the living room, I just smile. Tonight is going to be such a huge relief.
“You’re going to love it,” I say as we swim up to the front door of the Hideaway.
“Why do you say that?” Quince asks.
“Because”—I push open the massive wooden door, unable to hide my grin—“they don’t serve a single piece of sushi.”
“Thank heavens.” But he laughs as he says it.
Daddy first took me to the Hideaway for my twelfth birthday. I remember swimming through these doors for the first time, floating into a little piece of the human world under the sea. It’s a salvager’s paradise. The walls are covered in the rich brown deck boards of a Spanish galleon. All the tables and chairs are made from the square-cut bones of a pirate schooner. They set their tables with actual knives and forks—not a set of seasticks in sight.
But my absolute favorite part is the giant column of glass filling the center of the restaurant. Inside that column is a true piece of land, a terrarium complete with grass, a small pine tree, and—this is the absolute best part—a pair of cardinals!
I’m not sure how it works, how they get fresh air and sunshine, but it is an amazing feat of mer technology.
As we swim up to the hostess counter, Quince looks totally in awe. “Nice,” he says. “Where’d they find all this stuff?”
“The seafloor.” I shrug. “For centuries humans viewed the ocean as a dumping ground.”
“Some of them still do,” Quince says.
So true. “We just cleaned up the mess they left behind.”
Before we can get into some kind of environmental discussion, the hostess swims up. “Princess Lily!” she squeals, her short parrotfish-blue hair waving around her head like a halo. “How nice to see you again!”
“Hi, Tang,” I reply. “Is my father here yet?”
“He’s in the captain’s quarters.”
“Thanks.” The captain’s quarters is a small private dining room in the back. Its walls are covered in the crystal drops of countless ocean-liner chandeliers, making it feel like you’re eating inside a diamond or a giant geode. Daddy doesn’t usually care about privacy, so I’m not sure why he’s making the big gesture tonight.
“Come on,” I say to Quince as I head for the room. “Let’s get this separation over with.”
The second we float through the crystal-beaded curtain covering the door to the captain’s quarters, I know something is up. Daddy is not alone at the big round table. Graysby and Grouper are on one side of him, and Calliope Ebbsworth is on the other.
“Oh, no,” I breathe.
“What?” Quince asks, swimming closer to my side. “Is something wrong?”
I just shake my head—it’s not like I can throw a fit before I’m a thousand percent certain of what’s about to happen. But I know. Daddy’s not settling for a rubber-stamped couples counseling. He’s bringing out the Challenge—an archaic three-test trial to prove irreconcilability. Otherwise Calliope and his advisers wouldn’t need to be here.
“Lily,” Daddy says with a big smile. Then, still smiling, “Quince.”
“What’s going on, Daddy?” I ask, trying to sound even tempered.
As if he senses my internal freak-out, Quince’s hand comes up against the small of my back. I know it’s just the bond easing my emotions, but I’m thankful for the gesture.
“I asked Graysby, Grouper, and Calliope to join us for dinner,” Daddy says as if nothing’s going on.
“Greetings, Princess,” Graysby says.
Grouper smiles. “Master Quince.”
Quince nods at them.
“Calliope,” I say to Quince, because I’m sure everyone else in the room already knows what’s going on, “is the Thalassinian bond facilitator.”
“The what?”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “She’s a mermate couples counselor.”
“It’s a matter of protocol,” Daddy says as the server clears the table. “According to Thalassinian law you must prove due diligence in your relationship before you can declare for a separation.”
“That’s a technicality and you know it,” I retort. “No one has enforced due diligence in decades.”
I see the change in Daddy’s face, in his eyes, long before he speaks. He does not appreciate my questioning his judgment or authority in front of his subjects. “Whatever has happened in the past,” he says in his royal voice, “I choose to enforce it now. You are a princess of Thalassinia and therefore subject to greater scrutiny than her citizens.”
“But Daddy—”
“You are not above the law, daughter.” His eyes soften and he adds, “And you are not blessed with a surplus of time.”
“Is that what this is about?” I kick up from the table. “You think I’m going to wind up bondless on my birthday? That’s why we have to go through this?”
“Go through what?” Quince asks.
Daddy does not acknowledge him. “Partly.”
“I’ll have you know,” I rant as I swim around the table, “I have a mate picked out. If this blowfish hadn’t messed things up by kissing me, then Brody and I might already—”
“Enough!” Daddy’s echoing shout silences me. In his brook-no-dissent tone, he says, “Whatever the situation back on land, the fact is, you are bonded to this boy.” He glances at Quince, giving him a curt nod. “You are subject to the law and my rule. You will go through the Challenge before I grant your separation.” Then, just so I don’t mistake his meaning, he adds, “Assuming you have proven the unsuitability of the match.”
“What about Quince?” I ask, grasping at anything that might get me—us—out of this mess. “He can’t just disappear for a weekend. I mean, last weekend was bad enough, that was just a day—”
“I have already sent a messenger gull to Rachel, asking her to give an explanation to his mother.” Daddy gives me a stern look. “You will not get out of this Challenge.”
“The Challenge?” Quince asks. “What’s the Challenge?”
Calliope speaks up, finally. “It’s terribly romantic, actually,” she says, making swoony eyes. “You and the princess will be sent to a deserted island for the next two days, with only each other and brief visits from friends and family for company.”
“Deserted?” Quince repeats. “How deserted?”
“You, me, and a palm tree,” I say.
“Not even an island monkey?” he asks with a smile.
I find myself smiling back despite my anger. “Maybe a seagull or two.”
“This is serious, Lily,” Daddy says. “Calliope will visit you to evaluate your situation, as will I.”
I release a heavy sigh as I sink back down into my seat. “I know.”
If Quince and I can’t prove we’re an unsuitable match, Calliope has the same power Daddy has to deny the separation. I’m not sure why Daddy is doing this, but clearly we’re not getting out of it. Now that it’s begun, I just want to get it over with.
“How soon do we start?” I ask.
Calliope brightens. “Immediately.” She gathers her massive bag from the floor. “I will be happy to show you to the island and explain the rules.”
I nod. “Let’s do it.”