“Wait!” My voice echoes off the stalactites. I turn to the pool,

where the silvery head of a fish floats to the surface. The water is

clear and bright, as though there’s a light all the way at the bottom.

The blood around the torn flesh of the fish head taints the water with

blood, but the trail thins out quickly.

Maybe she was feeding Atticus. But why would she need to hide and

run from me? I can see a gray shape behind my reflection again. This

time it isn’t the sea horse. I trace my hand on my chest where she cut

me once before, only I thought it was a dream. I can’t force myself to

move. The dark melody of her voice vibrates through the water and

fills the emptiness of the room. I can see her face, the white of her

eyes, her cruel razor-sharp smile. She grips the bottom half of the

fish and waves it at me, blood trailing from its end like dripping

paint. I take one more step back and feel something hit me hard on my

skull.

She licks her lips, and then there is darkness.

I wake up in my bed with the taste of iron on my tongue. My

chambers are bright with floating butterflies. One lands on my arm,

and I swat it away. It leaves a sticky neon trail.

“Morning, sire,” someone says. She’s the color of orchids with

slick silver scales covering her breasts. Her hair is braided and

twisted with shells, piled atop her head.

“Who are you?”

She bows. “Hannah. I’ve come to deliver your armor.”

I feel the back of my head. There’s nothing there. Yet I know I

didn’t dream being hit hard.

Hannah holds up a gladiator outfit like the guard was wearing the

day before. I think I’ll pass, but I say thank you anyway. She bows

low and gives me her white smile. I jump back when I notice how sharp

her teeth are.

“I’m sorry, sire.” She stands back up. Her teeth are fine. It’s

me. The dreams have started again. I have to talk to my grandfather.

Maybe he knows the deal with this sea witch and can tell me I’m not

crazy.

“No, no, it’s me. I’m just a little jumpy.” I take the clothes

from her and set them on the bed.

“You’ll be fine,” she says warmly. “My mother used to be your

mother’s handmaiden. She really loved her. Your mother was a kind

princess, the loveliest of them all. Not like these other girls.”

I laugh at that. “Thanks. Have you seen-”

“She’s getting fitted for something a little more fitting for the

tournament announcement.”

“Right. Good.” I don’t know how to tell her to go away. “I’m just

going to get dressed.”

She looks startled, as though I’ve just caught her doing something

she shouldn’t be doing. And that’s undressing me with her eyes. I know

that look. I give it to girls all the time. Hannah bows again and this

time winks at me. “Are you sure you won’t be needing any help?”

I cough into my hand.

“I’m sure Lord Sea will be fine, Hannah.” Kurt saves me. He stands

at the entryway wearing a chain-link metal skirt. His violet scales

decorate his forearms.

Hannah bows her head low as she walks past Kurt.

“Unless you want her to stay,” Kurt says with a mischievous grin.

“Really, I’d like to live another day.” I go over to the pool of

water and splash the cold and salty water on my face.

“What’s that you got there, Kurty?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Just trying something new.”

Kurt holds a long wooden box with moss growing over it, looking

like he went to the bottom of the sea and dug it out of a pirate

wreck. Really, he shouldn’t have. “I am to give you this as a symbol

of your house. It will let the court see you are the true heir of the

king.”

I set the box on my bed. “You haven’t seen Layla, have you?”

“She’s got a new dress,” he answers.

“Yeah, I heard that. But where is she?”

“You asked if I saw her, not where she was.” He can’t keep the

smirk off his face. “Come, open it. There won’t be any food left if

you don’t hurry up, and then you have to be judged-I mean,

presented-before court officially.”

“You know, you could be a little nicer to me.” I flip the lid

open. “Now that I’m going to be a champion and all.” I’m expecting the

thing to either blow up or glow. Everything seems to glow on this

island.

“Holy-”

“It’s been handed down in your family. Only a son of Triton can

touch it.”

Nestled in the box is a dagger about two feet long with a

double-edged blade that catches the light of the room. The handle is

dusty gold with swirling black pearl as an emblem. I can sense it

humming. It’s not the smelling thing; it’s something else-like feeling

power that’s as old as the earth. The way I felt the power of the

trident without even touching it.

“What happens if someone else touches it?”

“It burns them,” Kurt says casually. “Now, here’s a shoulder strap

to sheath it. Look how nicely it matches your new armor.”

I think I might let him hold my new dagger just for fun.

•••

The hush over the court reminds me of the silence during a meet,

just before I dive. Bodies rustle against each other, lips whisper

behind cupped hands.

Here, the sun is shining. My stomach rumbles because I missed the

seaweed buffet while I tried the armor on. It’s only a skirt

underlined with leather so you can shift into your tail without

ripping your clothes. Even without a mirror, I decided to change back

into my cargo shorts.

Kurt crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at me with annoyance

as I take my place beside the king. Beside him is Layla in her new

mermaid-woven dress. The rosy silk clings to her body like a second

skin, and it’s so translucent that I can see her muscles flex beneath

it. Somehow she looks like she belongs here more than I do.

When my grandfather snaps his fingers, the little green boy with

the golden conch comes running. He blows into the conch until the

whispers die out and all you can hear is the breeze in the trees and

the trickle of the waterfall behind the wall. The Sea King stands to

his full height. He’s quite spectacular to look at, with his mane of

white hair and turquoise eyes. His voice is amplified in the silence.

“Today is a day like no other,” the king announces. “Today I welcome

home a lost son, Tristan Hart, my grandson .”

There’s polite applause and some overly enthusiastic cheering that

I bet comes from Marty’s section of the crowd.

The king looks around at the crowd, one by one. He licks the salty

wind off his lips and says, “We are the keepers of the deep, ancient

as the belly of the sea, a remnant of every era of this world. And yet

our numbers fall to others who will have us drown in our own waters,

our magics all but lost as we war among ourselves. We are forgotten.

But we are not gone, and we are not going just yet.”

At the last bit, the heralds stare sheepishly at their scaly toes.

“I presume some of you wonder why we’ve returned to these shores

eighteen years too early. I have no living sons. My reign is ending,

like the remnants of a storm, and soon I will return to the waves that

created me.”

Across from me, the grizzly silver merman Elias whispers something

into his girl’s ear. I want to throw something at them to make them

shut up and pay attention.

“I give you my trident.” He holds up the spectacular golden shaft.

It crackles and sparks and radiates its own light from the quartz. “He

who holds the trident is the King of the Seas. For millennia, there

hasn’t been a championship for the throne. The last one to win it was