The “island” is really a tiny atoll, a ring of sand-covered reef that peeks through the surface. At least the sand is deep enough to support some grasses and shrubby bushes and one sad palm tree that grows at a forty-five-degree angle to the ground. At the center of the ring is a blue hole, like a private plunge pool.
“The rules of the Challenge are simple,” Calliope says. “For the next two days you cannot leave the bounds of the island. If you need hydration or salinization, use the blue hole.”
“What about food?” Quince asks.
Leave it to a guy to focus on his stomach. We just ate!
“All necessary sustenance will be provided. You may choose to shelter on land, but I would recommend the pool.” Calliope seems way too excited about this.
I guess it’s not very often that she gets to perform her full duties. Especially in the case of a mer-terraped bond. Humans in Thalassinia aren’t totally unheard of; we get a few each year. But usually they are so undeniably in love with their mermate that a separation is unthinkable. My situation is unique, to say the least.
“You will be presented with three tests,” she says, positively glowing with enthusiasm. “You might not know you are facing a test at the time, but your performance will still be evaluated.”
“Great,” I mutter.
Quince asks, “So, we pass the tests, and then the separation goes ahead?”
“They are not pass or fail,” she explains. “Your performance in the Challenge is evaluated by his highness and myself. At the end of the forty-eight hours, I will make my recommendation, but the king will make the final decision.”
“Fine.” I kick at the sand. “Let’s get started.”
Calliope clucks at me—yes, actually clucks. “I’ll leave you, then. Your first test will be administered in the morning.”
She turns and dives into the sea, transfiguring from her finkini to her fin as she sails through the air. Great. I drop down onto the sand. The last thing I wanted this weekend was to be stuck on a stupid island with Quince. We were supposed to be separated by now. I’d been thinking, We’ll have dinner, then the separation, and maybe frozen sugar cakes for dessert. Not, We’ll spend two days together on a stupid island.
I need to get back to Brody.
Quince lowers onto the sand next to me.
“I know you’re pissed,” he says, staring out at the ocean horizon. “I can feel it. But we’ll get through this, and then it’ll be over.”
He doesn’t sound quite as eager for the separation as I feel, but he must want to get this over and done so he can get back to his regular life. A weekend on a deserted island wasn’t exactly in his plans, either.
“Even though it’s partly your fault,” I say, although there’s not a lot of accusation behind my words—he didn’t know the mess he’d be getting into with that kiss—“I’m sorry you got dragged into this whole thing. My dad is taking it kind of disproportionately serious.”
“No big,” he says with a shrug. “I mean, it’s not every day a guy gets to hang in a magical, mythical kingdom surrounded by beautiful mermaids.”
He leans into me, nudging me with his shoulder. Like a buddy.
Yeah, right. Beautiful. Not me. No one has ever looked at me and thought, Wow, that Lily Sanderson is one beautiful girl. On my best day, I’m cute. On my worst, a frizz-balled mess.
“You’re being hard on yourself, aren’t you?” Quince asks.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know for sure,” he says, rubbing his wrists on his knees. “I just get the feeling that you’re thinking negatively about yourself. I know that sounds ridiculous—”
“No,” I interrupt. “It doesn’t. The emotional connection of the bond gets stronger the longer it goes on.”
“Oh.” He turns to look at me. “So you were being hard on yourself?”
I can’t see any reason to lie. “I guess so.”
“Why?”
“I just—” I feel kind of ridiculous talking to Quince, of all people, about this. With the bond connecting us, though, he’ll probably understand better than anyone right now. “I know I’m not beautiful. Underwater I feel almost pretty, but on land…” I hold out my already-frizzed hair as evidence. “I feel like a mess.”
“You don’t think you’re beautiful?” His voice is low and uninflected.
“I know I’m not,” I reply. “Not like Courtney or Dosinia. Even Peri has an elegant kind of beauty. I’m just…me.”
Me, with the freckles and skinny legs and too-big lips and eyes. Who could find that attractive? I’m like a speckled ostrich.
“You shouldn’t make assumptions about how others view you, Lily.” He sounds so sincere, I can’t help but look up as he adds, “Some people find beauty in chaos.”
Without waiting for a response, he pushes to his feet and walks away. As I stare at his retreating back, I ask, “Hey, was that from a poem or something?”
Just before he jumps into the pool, he says, “Or something.”
I sit on the beach—staring after him and kind of wondering what the shellfish is going on—until the evening chill hits me. With the sun sinking below the horizon, the surface temperature drops a dozen degrees. Time to turn in for the night—at least I can warm the water in the pool to a decent temp. Tomorrow will bring the tests. As soon as Daddy and Calliope realize Quince and I are the worst match in merworld history, we’ll be separated and back home before you can say “Some people find beauty in chaos.”
Now, why did that phrase stick with me?
“Morning, sleepyheads.”
Peri’s voice penetrates my deep fog of sleep. What is Peri doing in my bedroom? She’s never visited Aunt Rachel’s house.
“Aren’t you two just as cozy as a pair of pearls in a puka shell?”
I bolt upright at the sound of Dosinia’s sneering comment. I know Doe is not in my room—she hates the human world and wouldn’t set foot on the mainland if you paid her.
The first thing I remember is I’m not in my room. I’m in the deep blue hole on Calliope’s Challenge island. And the second thing is that I fell asleep next to Quince so my temperature regulation would keep him warm too.
Only sometime in the night we moved from sleeping next to each other to sleeping cuddled together.
Roused from his sleep by my movements, he stretches his arms wide and yawns so loud, he practically roars. “Morning, princess.”
Peri clears her throat with a pointed a-hem.
Quince’s eyes finally spread open. His broad smile shows no shame—not that we have anything to be ashamed about. “Morning, ladies. What brings you to our fair island?”
“The Challenge,” Peri replies with a smile. “I’m administering one of your tests.”
With a strong kick, I jet away from his side. Giving Dosinia a skeptical look, I ask, “And why are you here?”
She shrugs and purses her glossy lips. “Uncle Whelk asked me to help.”
Thanks, Daddy.
Certain I look like a fright, I try to tame my curls by running fingers through my hair. It’s so unfair that Quince can wake up looking exactly like he did when he went to sleep, only with sleepy eyes and pink cheeks.
“So what’s the test?” I ask Peri, trying to ignore how Dosinia is eyeballing Quince’s bare chest. Maybe I should have made him keep the T-shirt on this time.
“It’s going to be super-cool,” Peri exclaims. “You’re each going to make a gift for the other.”
“A gift?” I ask.
“Yes.” She claps her hands. “I’ll stay in the pool and help you create your gift. Dosinia will go with Quince above the surface to make his.”
“Are there any requirements?” Quince asks, proving that he’s actually awake and paying attention.
“Nope.” Peri shakes her head. “Just that it has to be hand-made. And with Lily in mind.”
This sounds dumb. How does my making a gift for Quince prove anything about our unsuitability?
He doesn’t seem quite as skeptical. “Let’s get to it.”
With a strong push off the ledge that has been our bed, he shoots toward the surface. Dosinia looks right at me as she says, “This should be fun.” Then she smirks and follows Quince.
“Could she be any more obnoxious?” I ask once she breaks the surface.
“Probably,” Peri says absently. “So what do you want to make?”
I look around the hole. All I see is a reef wall dotted with brightly colored anemones and sea fans and other marine life. If this gift is supposed to be for Quince, I can’t use anything perishable like anemones or kelp. On land, those would just rot in a day or two and wind up making his room stink worse than it probably already does.
“I have no idea, Per,” I complain. “The hole doesn’t have much to offer.”
“Why don’t we explore some?” she suggests. “I’ll go up, you go down.”
I shrug in agreement. As she kicks up to the top of the hole, I swim down. This is stupid. I’m never going to find something that Quince will—
Before I even finish my mental whine, I see it. A perfect blue sand dollar, about an inch and a half across. Quince was fascinated by the sculpture in the starfish room, so maybe he’ll like this.
I let Peri know I’ve found something. Her shadow moves over me as she swims down to inspect my find.
Maybe I’m wrong.
“He’s going to hate it,” I grumble. “I don’t know anything about what he’d want. See, we’re totally unsuitable.”
“You never know,” Peri says, admiring the sand dollar. “Maybe he’ll love it.”
I shrug off her suggestion. It doesn’t matter. I’m not about to spend all day making a stupid gift for a stupid test because my dad won’t grant the stupid separation. Quickly locating some chorda, I braid together a makeshift string that I know will dry into a ropelike finish when it hits the air. In a few minutes, I’ve finished the cord and strung the sand dollar at the center.
To seal the blue color, I hold the sand dollar between my palms and flash-freeze it.
“What do you think?” I ask, holding it up for Peri to inspect. I’m actually pretty proud of my creation.
“I think,” she says, eyeing the necklace and then me, “that I don’t understand why you hate him so much.”
I scowl. Where did that come from? I tie the necklace around my neck so I don’t lose it.
“I don’t hate him,” I admit. “Not really. Sometimes I think I do, but he’s not really an awful guy all the time.”
“So what then?” Peri swims up and studies my face. “Why throw away a perfectly good bond?”
A perfectly good bond? I’m not sure what’s going on here. I mean, Peri is on my side. Isn’t she? She knows how I feel about Brody. Why is she encouraging me to keep Quince—as if he’s mine to keep anyway?
“You know why,” I say, my water-dulled frustration coming out as mild annoyance.
“Brody,” she says, sounding disappointed.
“Yes,” I reply. “Brody. The guy I’ve been in love with for three years. The guy I’m supposed to be bonded with.”
“Don’t get defensive.” Peri waves her tail fin back and forth in an agitated gesture. “I just don’t understand why Brody is so much more appealing than Quince. Explain it to me.”
“Quince is…” I whip around in a circle, trying to gather my thoughts. “He’s everything I don’t want. He’s rude and pushy and loves tweaking me at every opportunity. He is a land lover with two capital Ls.” I stop spinning and try to face Peri, but the world around me keeps whirling for several seconds. “Did you know he couldn’t even swim before last weekend?”
“So?” Peri argues. “Now he can.”
“You don’t get it,” I complain. “I belong in the water. Brody belongs here too.” I take a breath, picturing Brody swimming the butterfly. And then Quince on his disaster of a motorcycle. “Quince belongs on land.”
Peri studies my face, my eyes, like she’s trying to read my deepest thoughts. If anyone can, it’s her. But I don’t get to find out what she sees. In the end, she gives me a gentle smile. “I’m sure everything will work out how it’s supposed to.”
Yeah, with me and Brody together under the sea, while Quince stays safe and permanently dry, where he belongs.
“I hope so,” I say as we begin our ascent. “I desperately hope so.”
As we break the surface, I don’t see Quince and Dosinia anywhere. Which is troubling, because Calliope said we couldn’t leave the bounds of the island. If Dosinia tricked Quince into breaking the rules, I’ll strangle her. The last thing I need is this Challenge voided so we have to start over or something.
Then I hear giggling from beyond the shrubby bushes on the north side of the island.
“You are so good with your hands,” Doe coos in her boy-hunting sultry voice. “I can’t think of a merman in Thalassinia with that kind of skill.”
Quince’s low laughter carries, though I can’t hear his response.
With a growl, I launch myself up onto the sand, transfiguring into my finkini on the fly. She doesn’t even like humans. Does she have to flirt with every boy with a pulse? I mean, is she too oblivious to see that this is kind of a delicate situation? Can’t she put the flirt on pause just this once?
No, I don’t suppose she can.
“Dosinia!” I snap as I stomp through the grass in the direction of her voice. “What are you—”
But when I reach the clearing of the sandy beach, I am stunned speechless by what I see. Quince and Dosinia are sitting side by side, shoulder to shoulder, facing the beach. At my shout, they both turn to face me. Dosinia, now facing his back, wraps her arms around his waist and hugs herself along his spine.
He doesn’t even react.
“Took you long enough,” she says with a sneer. “Quincy’s been done for ages. I’ve been…entertaining him.”
Quincy? My eyebrows shoot up…and then dive into a scowl. Before I know what I’m doing, I stalk up to them, grab Doe by the arm, and yank her to her feet.
“Get out of here!” I give her a push toward the water. “You’re not part of this test. No one’s making you stay inside island lines. Go home.”
Quince, who has scrambled to his feet by the time I’m done, catches Doe before she stumbles to the ground.
“What the hell, Lily?” he demands.
I feel tears filling my eyes, and I don’t even know why. The bond is messing with my emotions so much, I can’t think straight.
Dosinia, who has never known when to back down, sneers and says, “If you want him to yourself, then why don’t you stay bonded?”
“What?” I glare at her. “This isn’t about him,” I insist. “It’s about you. About how you always take such joy in making my life miserable.”
I turn, prepared to stomp away, but then turn back. “You know what? The two of you have that in common.”
Then I run through the grass to the other side of the island. It’s not nearly far enough away. As soon as I clear the grass, I drop to the sand. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I let my head slump and I try to use deep breathing to keep my tears away.
What is the matter with me? I never used to be this emotional. I never used to lose my temper or yell at anyone—well, no one but Quince. Now I feel like I’m snapping at everyone.
The grass behind me swooshes with the sound of someone walking. I fully expect it to be Peri, my best friend, come to calm me down. No one else knows me well enough.
But the feet I see through my tear-blurred eyes do not have Peri’s pretty, copper-tipped toes. They’re big, bare masculine feet.
I huff out a sigh.
“That was a little harsh,” he says as he lowers himself to the sand at my side.
I gaze up at the sky. “I know.”
“She’s jealous of you.”
“Who?” I ask, scowling. “Dosinia? Not likely.”
Quince makes a noise that sounds half like a laugh and half like a growl. “Sometimes you can be so blind when it comes to people, princess.”
Like he knows anything? He’s known Doe for a week—and barely that. I almost point that out…but something about his off-the-wall statement rings true.
“What would she have to be jealous of?” I demand. “She’s the pretty one. The flirty one. The one all the boys chase after.”
He gives me a half smile. “Not all the boys.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I say. “She’s been awful to me since long before you showed up.”
“Lily,” he says, his tone serious, “you’re the princess. The golden child. The entire kingdom looks to you for their future. She’s just…your little cousin. Second string.”
I never thought of it that way. All I ever knew was how jealous I am of her, of her anonymity and her easy way with boys and her classic beauty. She’s everything I’m not. I never thought she might have something to be jealous of, too. I never thought I was worth anyone’s jealousy.
“Just food for thought,” Quince says, pushing back to his feet. He extends his hand, inviting me to take it. “Now let’s go back and exchange gifts so we can get to the next part of this Challenge.”
As I slip my small, pale, freckled hand into his big, tan one, I wonder how it happened that the boy who always made my life so miserable could now make me feel so calm. For the first time, I start to think that Quince and I might wind up friends.
Long after Peri and Dosinia have gone, Quince and I sit on the beach where we traded gifts. He looked happy enough with the necklace—the smile he gave me might have been the first genuine one we’ve shared—but it was nothing compared to his gift for me.
“I can’t believe you had time to do all this,” I repeat, sounding like a broken record. It’s a small miracle. I shake my head. “How did you learn to do this?”
On the beach before us, just beyond the reach of high tide, is a massive sand castle. But this is not just any sand castle with uneven walls and bucket-shaped turrets. No, this is an almost-perfect scale replica of the Thalassinian royal palace. Complete down to the curtains on my bedroom window.
Quince shrugs, like it’s no big deal, but I can feel his pride at my obvious pleasure. “My dad used to take me to the beach a lot. He liked to build sand castles, so I got plenty of practice.”
I don’t know much about Quince’s dad other than the fact that he’s not around. I think Quince sees him once a year. I can’t imagine having a living parent not be part of your life. If would kill me if Mom were alive and just…absent.
But maybe it’s better than nothing.
“Your dad,” I begin, suddenly interested in learning more about Quince’s life. “Where does he—”
“The necklace is great,” Quince says abruptly, as if that’s the logical next moment in our conversation, and not a diversion tactic—which it obviously is.
I almost call him on it, forcing him to at least listen to my question. Until I see the faraway look in his eyes…and feel the underlying pain.
I’m not that cruel.
“Compared to your castle,” I say instead, “my necklace looks like a cheap tourist trinket.”
“No,” Quince insists, his mood lightening. He lifts the sand dollar from his chest and studies its cinquefoil design. “It’s perfect. One of a kind. You can’t even take my gift home.”
“I have a mental photograph.” I flash him a smile. “I’ll remember it every time I see the real thing.”
When I say that, his gaze shifts out over the ocean, to the horizon, like he can see all the way back to the mainland. The air falls silent, even the breeze stills, and I feel a surprising sadness—whether it’s his or mine I’m not sure. I expect him to say something—I’m not sure what, though I’m almost eager to hear it—but he just kind of sighs and gives me a lopsided smile.
Something urges me to fill the silence. “You know—”
“There you are, darlings,” Calliope’s singsong voice trills. “I thought you might have left.”
We both turn to see her walking toward us from the other side of the island.
“No, ma’am,” Quince says politely, rising to his feet and holding down a hand to me. “Wouldn’t want to violate the rules of the Challenge.”
Judging from the blissful look on her face, I can see that is just the right thing to say to her. “Excellent,” she coos. “Excellent.”
I let him pull me to my feet, standing and dusting the sand off the back of my finkini.
“How was your first test?” she asks. Then, noticing the sand sculpture behind us, says, “Ooh, Lily, that is a perfect replica of your palace. What a wonderful gift for Quince.”
“Actually, ma’am,” Quince says, ducking his head as his cheeks turn an adorably dusky shade of pink, “that was my gift to Lily.”
“Oh,” she says, her eyes wide. “Oh, my.”
Feeling left out—and completely outshined by Quince’s gift—I reach over and slip my hand beneath his sand-dollar pendant. “This was my gift.”
Calliope walks closer and leans in to inspect. “It’s beautiful, my dear.” She smiles up at me. “Just beautiful.”
“Yeah,” Quince agrees. “It is.”
Calliope steps back and studies us for a moment. I have a bad feeling about the suspicious look in her eyes. But then she just smiles and says, “Time for my test. Let’s move to the western shore so we can watch the sun set.”
A minute later, she’s arranged us on the sand, Quince and me sitting cross-legged and facing each other, with Calliope to one side between us.
“Let me first explain the rules of my test.” She pulls a clipboard out of the satchel she’s brought with her, flips to a specific page, and then reads aloud. “During the execution of the I Say, You Say test, participants must remain facing each other, they must maintain eye contact while making each proclamation, and they must continue until the Challenge administrator deems the test complete.” She lifts her eyes from the page long enough to ask, “Understood?”
We both nod, although I’m sure Quince is as clueless as I am.
“Excellent.” She sets down the clipboard. “Now here is what we’re going to do. First, I would like each of you to say three positive things about the other. It may be a compliment or an encouragement or just something you like or admire.”
Panic tightens around my throat. I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m afraid I won’t have any nice things to say about Quince. But a tiny part of me says it’s because I’m worried he won’t have any nice things to say about me.
I’ve always been pretty awful to him.
“Now, let’s see.” Calliope studies us once again. “Who should go first?”
Not me, not me, not me, not—
“Lily,” Calliope finally declares. “Why don’t you start us off? Say something positive about Quince.”
“I, uh…” Words won’t come. My brain freezes. My eyes lock on Quince’s, and I block out the anticipation I sense he’s feeling. I hate being put on the spot, even if it’s only two pairs of eyes waiting for my next move. Finally, out of desperation, I blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “He has pretty eyes.”
Those pretty eyes crinkle at the corners, and I heave a sigh of relief. If he’s smiling, then I must have said something right.
“Very good, Lily,” Calliope says, “but I’d like you to use his name when you make your statement. Don’t anonymize him with a generic pronoun.”
That sounds a little like psychological hooey, but when I look back at him and say, “Quince has pretty eyes,” I feel it in my gut.
Calliope’s psychological hooey has some teeth.
“Wonderful,” she says. Then, to Quince, “Your turn.”
Quince doesn’t hesitate for a second. “Lily is fiercely loyal.”
I jerk back, stunned. Am I? I guess I never really thought about it, but I do stand up for my own. I might not defend myself all the time, but I’ll throw down with anyone who says a word against Peri or Shannen, or Daddy or Aunt Rachel. I’m more than a little surprised that Quince noticed.
“Perfect.” Calliope nods at me. “Your turn.”
I’m still reeling a little from his comment, but I try to focus enough to come up with something less…superficial than my first. For some reason, I think back to that moment in the bathroom stall after he stopped me from going after Courtney for making fun of Shannen. How he held me tight and reassured me. I take a deep breath and try not to think before I say, “Quince can be very tender.”
He winks at me.
Then, before Calliope can cheer my statement or tell him to go, he says, “Lily has no sense of fashion.”
“Hey,” I cry. “You’re supposed to say something nice.”
“No arguing, Lily,” Calliope chides. “This is not a dialogue.”
But Quince ignores her, keeping his gaze locked on mine, and says, “That was nice. I can’t stand trend chasers and wannabe supermodels. I like girls who are fresh and unique. Individual. Like you.”
Calling someone unique isn’t always a positive, but the way Quince says it makes it sound like a huge compliment. I kinda like the idea of being fresh and unique. Makes me sound like an exotic flower.
I’m picturing myself as a bird-of-paradise when Calliope says, “Your turn, Lily.”
Oh, right. My turn. The test, Lily, the test. I try to rein in my floral fantasy and return to the task of figuring out what I like about Quince.
No one seems in a rush to hurry me up, so I have time to compose my thoughts. I try to distance myself from the situation and look at him with my fresh and unique eyes. He’s sitting there, watching me, as if we’re alone on the island. Calliope could be in the South Pacific for all he cares.
That gives me an idea.
I take a deep breath before finally saying, “Quince doesn’t care what others think of him.”
That’s the biggest compliment I can give someone. I mean, I can’t stop worrying about what others think of me. Boy, do I wish I could have that kind of carefree confidence. I just don’t have it in me.
He looks like he wants to respond, to say something about my compliment. I can feel a conflicting emotion in him. Some mix of pride and frustration and anger. I’m confused. Why would my comment make him angry?
Like I’m compelled to defend myself, I say, “I just meant that you—”
“I care.” The anger is there, an undertone in his voice. An intensity in his eyes. “Sometimes I think I care too much.”
His gaze falls away, shifting to the ground between us while he drags one finger in a swirling pattern through the sand.
“Eye contact,” Calliope chides. “Quince, it’s your turn.”
He doesn’t react immediately. For several long seconds he keeps making spiral designs with his finger. When he looks back up, the anger is gone, wiped away with one shutter of his thick-lashed lids. “Lily doesn’t think before she speaks.”
Grrr. I do think. I just sometimes think things I shouldn’t say out loud.
“Wonderful,” Calliope says, making notes on her clipboard. “Now we can—”
“Hey,” I complain, “we were supposed to say positive things. I bought your ‘no fashion sense’ argument, but how was that last thing a compliment?”
“Lily, you shouldn’t judge—”
“You don’t have a filter,” Quince interrupts. “You’re honest, sometimes to a fault, and straightforward. Too many people say what they think others want to hear.”
I scowl, still not certain that was praise.
But apparently Calliope isn’t as doubtful. “Excellent.” She’s practically clapping. “Let’s move on to the second part of this exercise.”
Great. The first part went so well, I can hardly wait for the second.
“Now that we’ve established things you admire about each other,” she says, “it’s time to address the other side. I would like each of you to share one thing you would change about the other person. Try to make it a positive criticism instead of an attack. If you like, you might also touch on how you can help them achieve that change.”
Well, at least this will be easy. I have a list as long as the Bimini Road of things I’d like to change about Quince.
“Quince,” she says, “why don’t you go first this time?”
All the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. If all of his “compliments” sounded suspiciously like criticisms, I’m almost afraid to hear an actual criticism.
“If I could change one thing about Lily,” he begins. Then he’s quiet for several long seconds, like he has to think really hard about what he’s going to say. Just when I’m debating whether this is because he has too many things to choose from or because he can’t think of anything he’d want to change, he says, “I’d want her to see beneath the surface of the people around her.”
What does he mean by that? What does he know about how I see other people? I see all the way down to his depths. And Shannen’s. And Bro—Oh. That’s it. This all goes back to the Brody thing.
Figures.
“Is this about Brody?” I demand, already certain of the answer.
Calliope hushes me. “Explore that, Quince,” she says. “Why do you think that needs to change?”
He kind of groans before quietly saying, “Sometimes I think Lily is too…self-involved to see more than—”
“Excuse me?”
“—what she wants to see.”
“Self-involved? Self-involved?!?” I jump to my feet, unable to sit still. “Let’s talk about self-involved, Mr. Kissing Unsuspecting Girls in Libraries.”
“Lily, please,” Calliope says. “Sit down so we can discuss this rationally.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, Lily,” Quince says—and don’t think him using my actual name is going to calm me down this time—as he stands up to face me. “It’s just that you’ve been so caught up in Brody for so long and…” He runs his sandy fingers through his hair. “You don’t really know him. You’re in love with an image. And honestly, it’s a little…”
My body stills. There’s something ominous in the way his sentence trails off. And honestly, I’m itching for whatever that brings. “What, Quince?” I demand. “It’s a little what?”
He groans again, jamming his hands into his back pockets before looking me straight in the eyes as he says, “Shallow.”
For a good ten seconds my mind is completely blank. No coherent thoughts form—it’s like I’m a jumble of words and feelings and…pain. That’s what comes next, an overwhelming pain. This is worse, even, than when Brody turned me down for the dance. A thousand times worse.
“Lily, I—”
“No,” I say, stopping the apology I know is coming. I don’t want to hear it. “It’s fine.”
Calliope clears her throat. “Lily? Would you—”
“You want to know the one thing I would change about Quince?” A feeling of empty calm washes through me. “The fact that he’s bonded to me.”
He doesn’t have to say anything for me to know he’s feeling the same pain his words inflicted on me. I should be glad for that—it’s why I said what I said. But instead I just feel…nothing.
Calliope stands and, very businesslike, starts gathering her belongings. “I think I’ve seen enough.”
Good. I hope she’s seen how totally unsuitable we are.
“There is a basket of food for your dinner in the blue pool,” she says as she stuffs her papers and notes and clipboards into her satchel. “I believe your father will be coming in the afternoon tomorrow to administer the final test.”
“All right,” I say. Even though I haven’t done anything but make a necklace and talk about Quince today, I feel completely drained. (He has that effect on people.) More than physically. Emotionally.
“Good night,” she says, waving at us before turning and diving into the sea.
For several long minutes after she’s gone, we just stand there, silent on the beach as the sun sinks into the horizon. Which is fine with me. I don’t think there’s anything left to say.
Quince apparently doesn’t agree.
“Can I explain?”
“I don’t think there’s anything to explain,” I reply.
“There is,” he insists, stepping into my line of sight. “I know what I said hurt you, and that’s the last thing I want.”
“Then why?” I feel tears threatening, but I quickly tamp them down.
“I’m not sure,” he says, not exactly reassuring me. “It’s just that…there are so many things I like about you. Your generous heart and crooked smile and zillions of freckles.” He lifts his hand, like he wants to touch those freckles, but drops it back to his side. “How you always smell like lime and coconut. The list could go on forever. What I said…that was the only thing I could think of that I wish was different.”
Five minutes ago I didn’t think there was a thing in the world that would change how I feel about Quince. But he did it. While I have an endless list of things I’d change about him, he has an endless list of things he likes about me. And only one thing he doesn’t.
How can he make me go from being so mad at him that I could breathe fire, to making me feel completely rotten for even thinking that?
Yet another thing about him that completely puzzles me.
“Let’s eat,” I say, because I’m suddenly famished and a basket of food is way more appealing than continuing this conversation.
“Sure,” Quince says, uncertain, but trying to sound up-beat. “I’m so hungry, I could even eat sushi.”
I laugh. Partly at his joke, but partly at the ridiculousness of this situation. I mean, how did I—Thalassinian royal princess—wind up bonded to a land lover who can’t swim and hates sushi? If ever there was a more unsuitable match, I haven’t seen one. Daddy has to realize that, and if the first two test results don’t convince him, then I’ll just have to make sure the third does.
I follow Quince toward our dinner. By this time tomorrow, we’ll be back in Seaview with this whole experience behind us.