Just for Fins (8 page)

He stares into my eyes, unblinking, and I can't read any sort of reaction. His mind is racing, I'm sure, but everything on the outside is a stone facade.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he says, “Then I won't fail.”

Just like that. He won't fail. He sounds as sure as he did when he first told me he loved me. No room for doubt, like he's stated undeniable fact.

I smile and act like that's all the assurance I need, but as I lean into him and let his strong arms wrap around me, I can't shake the niggle of fear. The three tests are supposed to be near impossible, even for a human who has spent a lot of time in the ocean. I have no idea how a human with little swimming ability and nothing more than the power to breathe water is going to succeed at three of the toughest challenges the mer world has ever devised.

For now, though, I need to stay positive. I have to believe that everything will work out, because the thought of never stepping on land again—of never seeing or touching Quince again—is too unbearable to even imagine.

I slip my arms around his waist and hug him tight. I won't let him go, not now that we've finally figured everything out. No matter what happens, I'll find a way to make it work.

Chapter 9

I
smile into the wind as Quince races us to the beach after school on Friday. Below my helmet, the frizzy length of my hair whips against my back, and I know it's getting churned into unbrushable tangles. I don't care. Soon I'll be in the water and the bird's nest will smooth out into silken yellow strands.

Quince turns his head and shouts, “I think you like this, princess.”

In response I squeeze my arms tighter around his waist. I might be a complete failure at driving a motorcycle, but I've gotten pretty good at holding on for the ride.

When he slows down to turn into the beach parking lot, I sigh. The worst part of our motorcycle rides is when they're over.

He steers into a spot at the far end, beneath the shade of a clump of trees, and kills the engine. When he starts to climb off, I hold him in place, resting my cheek against the soft leather of his jacket.

Soon summer will be here, and it will be too warm for him to wear his total biker look. He'll spend the hot, humid months working construction jobs in T-shirts and work boots. Hopefully he'll still break out his biker boots for date nights.

“Not that I'm complaining,” he says, wrapping his arms over mine, “but I thought you were in a hurry.”

“I am.” I sigh again but make no move to get up.

“But what?” He leans to the side and twists so he can see my face. “Are you worried? Nervous about going to Tri . . . ?”

“Trigonum,” I finish.

I give him a kind of half nod, half shrug. I'm not sure
what
I feel. I climb off the motorcycle and, when Quince does the same, start walking to the sand.

“This is all new to me,” I explain. “Except for last week's disastrous council of kings and queens, everything else I've ever done as royal duty has been in Daddy's shadow.”

Quince takes my hand as we reach the beach. “So last time was a disaster,” he says, and I scowl. “But you learned something, you bounced back, and you have a new plan. That's what leadership is. Learning, reevaluating, and re­directing. Everyone from the construction manager at a job site to the president of the United States has to do that on a daily basis. You're doing everything right.”

“I hope so,” I say. “A lot is riding on—”

Squawk, squawk, squawk!

A seagull swoops in from nowhere, screeching and flapping its broad wings wildly.

“Whoa!” Quince shouts, ducking away from the crazy bird and pulling me down with him.

The bird stops squawking and drops awkwardly to the ground. Once on the sand, it shakes out one wing and preens its beak through the disturbed feathers before pulling itself into standard seagull pose. It steps up to Quince, holds out its left leg, and waits.

“They aren't all this dangerous, are they?” Quince eyes the bird warily.

“No, but some of them are . . . a little eccentric,” I explain. I glance at the kelpaper scroll, and my heart sinks. “You need to take that paper off his leg.”

“How do you know it's for me?” Quince asks.

“Because he's standing in front of you. Because the kelpaper is blue, which means it's from the palace.” I release Quince so he can kneel down to gull level. “And because you're expecting notification of your first test.”

Quince throws me an inscrutable look before reaching out to unwrap the kelpaper from the bird's leg. As soon as the paper is clear, the gull spreads his wings, smacks Quince in the face with two big flaps, and takes off over the ocean.

Quince spits a feather out of his mouth as he unrolls the scroll.

“What does it say?” I ask.

He looks at me. “Am I allowed to tell you?”

I nod. “You can tell me. I just can't help you.”

He clears his throat. “‘Make your way to Thalassinia.'”

I wait for him to continue, expecting it to say that he'll receive the rest of his challenge when he gets there. But he stops.

“What else?” I say, leaning over him to read the instructions.

But there aren't any more. It only tells him to go to Thalassinia.

“Quince,” I begin, but he's already shrugging out of his leather jacket and walking back to his bike.

I hurry after him.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, princess,” he says as he unlocks the storage compartment on his bike, “it looks like I'm swimming to Thalassinia.”

I stand there and stare for a full five seconds, watching as he stuffs first his jacket and then his T-shirt into the bike. When he starts stepping out of his boots, I jolt back into action.

“You can't,” I insist, rushing forward and trying to stop him from bending down to pick up his boots. “Do you know how far away Thalassinia is?”

“A ways.” He winks at me.

“Is this a joke?” I shriek, partly at him and partly at whoever dreamed up this stupid test. “You can't seriously think you can swim all the way to my kingdom. It's forty-five miles.”

Quince jams his boots into the storage compartment, then turns to face me, hands out. “Give me your stuff. Looks like I won't be taking it home after all.”

He's losing his mind. “Quince,” I say, keeping my words slow and steady, “you can't swim to Thalassinia. You barely learned how to swim a few weeks ago. It's too far, it's too dangerous.”

He places his hands on my shoulders, and I can see that he is serious and steady. “I don't have a choice.”

You do!
I want to scream. But I know that neither of us wants the alternative. He wants me to be able to walk on land just as much as I want him to be able to swim under the sea. So, as much as it terrifies me to think about it, he's right. He doesn't have a choice.

“What about your mom?” I ask. Beneath my shorts, I manifest a finkini bottom. “Do you need to let her know?”

As I step out of my shorts and hand them to him, along with my flip-flops, he laughs. “Seriously? By now she's pretty much given up on the idea that my life is on a regular schedule,” he says, adding my clothes to the bike before locking the compartment. “She won't start worrying until I'm gone a week at least.”

I have to admire how well he's taking this. For a guy who couldn't swim two months ago, he's pretty confident. Even swim star Brody would balk at the idea of swimming that far in open water.

I take his hand in mine as we walk toward the surf. The feel of the sand squishing beneath my feet usually makes me happy, but today it only makes me nervous.

“Do you even know how to get there?” I ask.

“It's east,” he says. “I think I can manage east.”

He holds up his wrist, showing off his fancy sports watch—a Christmas present from his deadbeat dad. As if a watch makes up for a decade of being gone.

At least it has a compass. That'll be some help.

“It's east until you get to that rock formation that looks like a stack of Oreo cookies.” I may not be allowed to help him with the physical swim, but I'm not going to let him head out into the middle of the Atlantic with no directions. “Then turn southeast. Follow the ridge line of those mountains—”

“You mean those hills?”

I growl at him. As if now is the time for a geographical debate. “That'll lead you straight to the plateau overlooking the core settlement of the kingdom. The palace is in the center.”

“I've got it, princess.” He winks at me again, and I want to shove him back onto the sand for not taking this seriously enough.

Instead, I finish my instructions. “If you get lost or tired or in any kind of trouble, you call a messenger gull like I showed you. Send a message to Daddy or to Peri, and they'll help you.”

“I'll be fine.”

“Promise me,” I insist. “Promise me you'll call for help if you get into trouble.”

He leans down and presses a soft, warm kiss on my mouth. I don't realize I'm trembling until he wraps his arms around me.

“I promise,” he says. “Now you make me a promise.”

“What's that?”

“You get your business done,” he says. “Focus on your task at hand, and don't worry about me.”

“But—”

“Promise.” He rubs his hands up my back one more time before stepping away. “Meet me in the palace kitchen for sushi when you're done.”

“You hate sushi.”

He shrugs. “It's growing on me.”

We both turn at the sound of splashing at the surf's edge. A single royal guard is stepping out of the water onto the beach. After the last time, I made them promise to only send one guard above the surface to fetch me. The whole squadron is too conspicuous. And embarrassing.

“Looks like your ride's here,” Quince teases.

“You be careful,” I tell him. “And remember—”

“I'll call for help if I need it.” He drops a quick kiss on my nose. “I won't need it. You go rally the environmental troops.”

I nod and then turn to walk with my guard into the waves. As we sink under the surface, I find the rest of the school waiting just beyond the pier.

“Lily!”

Peri swims out from behind the guards.

“Peri?” I ask, confused. “What are you doing here?”

As she floats up to me, she says, “I applied to be your emissary. King Whelk interviewed me and gave me the position—mostly because he thought it's what you would want.”

“Of course it is!” I squeal, giving her a quick hug.

Peri grins. “He sent me to accompany you on your royal visits this weekend.” She holds up a thick folder of kelpaper. “I've been doing my research all week.”

“That's great!” I'm instantly relieved to know that Peri will be at my side. I'm glad to know I won't be traveling alone. My guards are nice enough, but they're not exactly chatty.

Tellin is meeting me in Trigonum to help. Knowing I'll have both him and Peri with me is reassuring.

“Hold on a second,” I tell her. “I have to take care of something before we leave.”

She nods, and I swim over to my guards.

Quince may have a bunch of manly confidence in his ability to swim all the way to Thalassinia, and I believe in him about a lot of things—but he is a novice swimmer. That's like a person who just ran his first mile deciding to compete in a marathon. Only with sharks and deadly jellyfish in the way, to make things more interesting. Well, I don't care what the rules say. I'm not letting him set out on his own.

“Which two of you are the best swimmers?” I ask as I approach.

They look startled, but eventually two of them raise their hands. One has bright blond hair, almost the color of mine, and the other squid-ink black. They are both young and strong and look like they could swim around the world if they had to. They'll do.

“What are your names?” I ask.

“Phyllos, Princess,” the blond one answers.

The other says, “Triakis.”

“In a short while, a human boy with
aqua respire
—”

“You mean Master Quince, Princess?” Phyllos asks.

What was I thinking? Of course they know who he is.

“Yes,” I continue. “In a short time, Master Quince is going to enter the sea and begin making his way to Thalassinia.”

“Is this the first test?” Triakis asks. “The Trial of Truth?”

I nod. Apparently the whole kingdom knows about the Trial of Truth, too. I shouldn't be surprised. Well, then there will be all the more people to celebrate when Quince succeeds.

“When he does, I want you to follow him.” I take a deep breath and hope that this isn't breaking the rules, knowing that I would still do it if it was. “Don't get too close, don't interfere unless he is in danger, but make sure he is safe.”

The two swimmers glance at each other and then back at me.