As we reach the outskirts of Thalassinia, I’ve slipped into delay mode. I still haven’t made my decision, and I need a little extra time to think. Although, with emotions involved, it’s not like thinking is going to be a major help, but it can’t hurt to try. So I do something I’ve never done before. I take someone to my secret spot.
We’re getting closer and closer to summer, so there is still plenty of sun filtering through the waves as we swim into my sacred retreat. My personal haven.
Quince seems to sense the awe-inspiring nature of this place, because he doesn’t say a word, just looks around at the bounty of colors and textures and contrast that fill my spot. Then, as if he knows how I spend my time here, he corkscrews onto his back and gazes longingly up at the sky. At the world above the surface.
The world where he belongs. And I don’t.
I float up next to him, pondering that thought. It’s something I’ve always believed, even after I found out Mom was human and I have family on the mainland. I’m a Thalassinian princess, and my place is beneath the sea. Below the surface.
A tiny fishing boat passes overhead, its bright red hull shining like a stop sign in the reflected light from the reef below. I feel Quince tense, probably thinking of the last fishing-boat encounter, but I lay a reassuring hand on his arm.
“It’s fine,” I say. “A lot of fishing boats travel this route between Bimini and Nassau. They won’t be stopping to drop line.”
“Oh,” he says, the word somehow full of self-mocking. Like he feels foolish for worrying.
“But it’s always better to be on alert,” I say, mostly to make him feel better. “You never know when the current will change.”
We float in silence, watching as the red boat passes out of view and a yellow follows shortly after, then turquoise, magenta, and bright, bright green. A rainbow parade.
“There are so many colors in the sea,” he says, his voice full of awe. “Makes me feel kind of out of place in my gray cargo pants.”
Something about that statement twists my heart into a knot, but I ignore the ominous feeling.
“Your eyes,” I say, picturing them from memory. “They are the color of the sea. They’ve always reminded me of home.”
They’re the only part of him that seems to belong here. Everything else—from the earthy blond of his hair to the impressive muscles and rough calluses earned through hours of working on his motorcycle and at the lumberyard—screams land. He—I start blinking too fast—is made of the land.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, as if instantly aware of my thoughts.
“Nothing,” I insist. “I just—”
He floats up so he can look at my face. “Your eyes,” he says, his voice awed. “They’re sparkling. Glittering like they’re painted with tiny gold diamonds.”
Oh, no. Well, I can’t wipe at nonexistent tears, so I change the subject.
“This is my secret spot.” I force myself to stop blinking so fast. “It’s my favorite place in all of Thalassinia. In all the seas.”
Quince scowls for a second, like he’s not buying my distraction, but apparently decides to let me have it. Twisting back skyward, he says, “I can imagine why. It’s beautiful.”
Then, I don’t know why I say it, don’t even think the words before they spill out of my mouth, but I say, “I’ve never shown this place to anyone before.”
Quince freezes, still looking to the surface. “No one?”
I shake my head, even though he might not be able to see me.
“I’m…”
I feel his pleasure before he says it.
“…honored.”
It is such a painfully sweet moment that I almost can’t bear to end it. If only we could just stay here, in this world between worlds, without royal obligations, motorcycles, or bad memories. But I can’t. It’s all ending.
“I’m glad you appreciate it,” I say softly. “Because after tonight, you will never be able to come here again.”
And with that, I’ve sealed our fate. My decision is made.
Despite my confusing feelings for Quince—not that I can trust my feelings lately—and his increasingly obvious feelings for me—I’m going through with the separation. I don’t think I have another choice.
“Think about what you’re doing, Lily,” Quince pleads.
We’re sitting outside Daddy’s office, waiting for his staff to prepare the ritual. Daddy’s face fell when I told him my decision, but he didn’t argue. Maybe he could tell that I was not about to be persuaded.
Quince, on the other hand, still thinks he can change my mind.
“You know how I feel about you,” he says. “And I think you’re starting to feel the same way about me.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I insist.
“The hell it doesn’t.” He slams a fist against the smooth pumice bench and is probably disappointed when the water muffles the effect. “Lily, I love you.”
“No—”
“I know you don’t want to hear that, but I do.” He swims awkwardly in front of me, taking my shoulders in his hands, like if he can just make me look at him, I’ll see how foolish I’m being.
But looking into his eyes only makes my decision easier. Because his eyes are full of a certainty I’m not sure I will ever have.
Yesterday I was head over fins about Brody, and look how well that turned out. I had deluded myself into believing an infatuation was true love. I was ready to commit myself to a lifetime with a boy I barely knew.
How can I be sure that these feelings that are churning for Quince are any more real? Any less imaginary? They might be real. Or they might be symptoms of the bond or a reaction to Brody or just a result of spending so much time together.
And how, if they are true and real, could I allow him to sacrifice everything he knows—his friends, his family, his motorcycle, his future—to spend most of the rest of his life in the ocean?
“Lily, you can’t just throw this—”
“I have to,” I cut in. “We have to. Be logical, Quince. If we don’t separate, then by the next lunar cycle the bond will finalize and you will turn fully mer. Your terraped form—your legs—would be permanently tied to mine.”
“I know that. Your cousin explained the whole thing.” He rolls his eyes. “Probably thinking it would scare me off.”
“You would never walk on land without me again.”
“So—”
“When I take my place in court, I’ll have to be in Thalassinia almost all the time,” I explain, trying to hit this home for him. “Think about that. Think about being stuck in the ocean most of your life. Not being able to ride your motorcycle whenever you want. Not being able to run or dance or climb a—”
“I don’t dance.” He is still not getting it. “Lily, I’ve spent the last three years crazy over you. I don’t want to let this chance slip away. Especially not now that I’ve seen what things could be like with us.”
Aaargh! He’s being obtuse. “What about your mom?” I ask. “Who would go to the grocery store for her or take out her trash or fix her junker car when she’s late for work?” All things I know Quince has done. Guess I have been paying attention.
The thought of having to abandon his mom actually gives him pause. Good! He needs to be thinking about stuff like that.
But then he shakes his head. “We can work that out later. I’m willing to make those sacrifices. Why can’t you see that?”
“You might be,” I shout, my emotions flooding out. “But I’m not.”
“I don’t—”
I have to say something to make him understand. The truth won’t work. I can’t tell him that I hate the thought of him sacrificing everything in his life to be with me…only to regret the sacrifice later. If I tell him that, though, then he might realize that my feelings for him are growing, and he’ll use that as the anchor in his argument. If he knows that I even think I might be falling for him—and what if I’m just as wrong about these feelings as I was about Brody?—he’ll never let go.
And I couldn’t live with that.
We’re from two different worlds. He belongs in his. I belong in mine.
So I say the only thing I know will make him let go.
“I’m not willing to give you the rest of my life.” I shrug his hands off my shoulders and cross my arms. “I don’t want you here.”
I see the hurt in his eyes for an instant before he shuts me out. His eyes, his whole face, go blank.
He doesn’t speak, just kind of floats away.
The door to Daddy’s office opens and Mangrove swims out. “His highness is ready to begin.”
Quince follows him into the office, leaving me alone in the hall. I take a moment to steady myself, to take a deep breath and tamp down the urge to cry. It’s what has to be done.
And the reason I have to do it is the same reason that makes it so very, very hard.
“You are certain?” Daddy asks.
The question is supposed to be for both of us, but Quince doesn’t answer. We both know Daddy’s really just asking me. I nod, not trusting my voice. From the pained look on Daddy’s face, I can tell that my eyes are sparkling. I can’t help it anymore.
Daddy motions his guards forward, and they take position at either side of Quince.
“Then, by the power vested in me by the great sea god Poseidon,” he says, gripping his trident in his right hand, “I declare this bond…irreversibly severed.”
I feel a spark of electricity tingle over my skin. All at once, it feels like every last one of my emotions drains from my body.
Cid, at Quince’s left, grabs him by the arm and says, “Take a deep breath, son.”
He does—his last breath of water—and Cid and Barney kick off through the open window behind Daddy’s desk, with Quince’s now fully human body dragging between them. Once they clear the frame, I hurry to the window and lean out, watching, empty, as they rush Quince to the surface.
How can the right decision feel, all at once, so very wrong?
“It’s not too late,” Daddy says. “Until he breaches the surface I can call him back.”
“No,” I whisper, my throat tight. It wouldn’t be fair. I won’t let my selfish—and unreliable—emotions take his future away.
“You are so very strong, daughter,” he says, pulling me into his arms.
Resting my head against his shoulder, I don’t feel strong. I feel as opposite of strong as you can get.
I feel like a coward.