anyone knowing about it.”

“Think about what you just said.” I take a lock of her hair and

run my fingers along it. She bats me away. “No one sees the giant,

floating Toliss Island that contains the whole Sea Court, either.”

“That’s different,” Kurt says. “There’s a spell around the island

so it appears to be a storm at sea. To keep humans away. The makara

and others like it were put away years ago. They caused so much

destruction that the king buried them deep in the earth, hoping they

would die. That explains their size. They’ve adapted to the

constraints of the cave.”

I twist my torso to stretch the soreness out of my rib cage. “So

why did one just happen to show up and start snacking on great

whites?”

“It’s the king’s power.” Kurt motions at my quartz scepter and

Triton’s dagger on the table. “It’s ebbing. The trident is the king’s

power. He creates with it. He destroys with it. Now that it’s broken

in three pieces, everything will come undone.”

“I don’t get it,” Layla says. “Haven’t there been other kings? Why

is this happening now?”

“The line has been unbroken for thousands of years. Our kind is

bound to the power of the throne. Which is why, if at the end of the

fortnight, the trident is not pieced back together, everything-from

the creatures banished in caves beneath the sea, to those banished

from court-would be able to return. Even our kind would be able to go

on land.”

“We don’t always behave very well among humans,” Thalia says

darkly.

“Speak for yourself, guppy,” Gwen says. She’s got her arms crossed

like she owns the world. Then the ship heaves. Gwen falls into Kurt,

who holds her by her shoulders at arm’s length. Layla falls back

against me and I take this moment to put my arms around her. The

pitcher of water on the table wobbles but doesn’t tip over.

Thalia throws her hair back, just missing Gwen’s face. “I think

I’ll check on the progress. We should be there shortly.” She presses

her hand on my shoulder before leaving.

Kurt looks from Layla to me to Gwen, and as though he’d rather

face another Macarena eel thing than stay with us, he says, “I’ll join

you.”

Gwen tries to pick up my makara tooth, but doesn’t realize how

sharp it is, and cuts her finger on its edge. She sucks on the wound.

“Time for an edible seaweed Band-Aid,” Layla says, mock-sweetly.

Gwen shoots a terrible glare at her. I’m expecting her eyes to

glow white and sparks to fly from her fingers, but she just stalks

out.

Which leaves just Layla and me.

I get off the bed and pour myself a cup of water. It’s cool,

slightly salty, and perfect. I drink it eagerly as it trickles over

the cup and down my chest.

“Thirsty?” Layla asks.

I set the cup down. “Just a bit.”

I grip the dusty golden hilt of the scepter, trying to remember

the power I felt when I was facing the makara.

“How do you make it glow?”

“I don’t. Not really. Even when I was down there, I could tell it

wasn’t me doing it.”

“What do you mean?”

I hesitate, trying to find just the right words. “It’s like it has

its own power. Separate from me. Somehow, we feed off each other.”

She cocks her head to the side. All of her hair is pulled over her

shoulder. Footsteps scatter on deck. I sit on the bed beside her. “You

must be bummed you broke the entrance to the oracle lady, huh?” she

says.

I take her hand in mine and cross our fingers together. “I’m

looking forward to seeing the Vanishing Cove. This is the farthest

away I’ve ever been from home.”

“Me too.”

“You’ve been to Athens. You’ve been to the equator. That’s way

farther.”

“It’s not the same.” She shakes her head, not letting go of my

stare. Not for a moment. “Promise you’ll be careful from now on.”

I smile. “And miss out on seaweed bandages?”

She doesn’t laugh, the way I intended it. It’s even better. She

takes my face with her hand and brings it closer to-

“Many pardons, Lord Sea,” Vi says.

I throw myself backward on the bed. “What is it?”

Layla pours herself some water.

The purple urchin shifts from side to side, wringing his little

fingers until I fear he’ll pull them right off the knuckles. “We’re

nearing the coast.”

“We’ll be right out.”

He bows so low to the ground that his long, pointy nose nearly

touches the wood, then leaves in a purple blur.

I take my scepter, nestle it into the back of the harness, and

sheath my dagger on the front.

“Really, Tristan.” Layla stands back to look at me from the

doorway. “I think you need more weapons.”

Behind her I can see the others loading up as well. I take a

skinny blade with a bronze handle and hand it to her. She doesn’t

hesitate when she takes it, but her hands are shaky.

“The way things are going,” I say, “we’re going to need them.”

Leaning against the side of the ship, we’re still surrounded on

all sides by nothing but water. “I thought you said we were nearly

there.”

Arion lowers himself on his black ropes. “Take a moment, Master

Tristan. Close your eyes.”

It sounds hokey, but I do it.

“Envision your destination.”

“But, I’ve never been there before. How will I know what I’m

envisioning?”

“It’s a feeling, Master Tristan. Knowing you have arrived.”

I peek from my left eye. The others are standing with their eyes

shut facing the water. Arion nods encouragingly at me.

I know I should be picturing a strip of land. Maybe a white sandy

beach. Or a port? A small town where the oracle will be living. The

truth is, I have no idea what I should be picturing. I keep thinking

of the Coney Island skyline-the pier, the dark water pulling in with

the tide, the silhouettes of the Wonder Wheel and the Parachute Jump.

It warms my insides because I know when I see that, I’ve come home.

When I open my eyes, I have to rub them shut again. A coastal town

flickers in the distance.

“Whoa.” Layla points at it. “Vanishing Cove. They weren’t just

being funny when they named it.”

“Yes, Miss Layla,” Arion says. “Humans, even some of our kind,

will sail past without knowing it’s there. If you know what you’re

looking for, sometimes it’s easier to find.”

As we get closer, I can make out the ascending line of crooked

homes along the jagged coast. Ships bigger than ours are docked

farther out, letting down rowboats full of passengers. From a tiny

strip of beach on the far side of the island, I can see a recently

extinguished fire still smoking.

Arion moves his hands skillfully, molding the air. The masts and

sails bend in turn to his movements, adjusting to catch the wind from

a different angle until we’re nestled in the port between a

weather-beaten ship called the Golden Rose and a nameless narrow black

ship with a dragon carved into the bow.

The port market smells like the time my friend Angelo’s mom made

us go down to Biddy Early’s pub to tell his dad he had to come home.

Beer, men, and burning meat. Merchants argue in loud languages I don’t

recognize, but the hand gestures suggest the speakers are not exactly

loving each other.

“Those guys look friendly.” I set foot on the dock. A wobbly

sensation washes over me, as if the sky and the ground have switched

places. I know my feet are firmly planted on the ramp, but somehow

it’s like I’m floating.

“Jelly legs,” Thalia laughs, hopping beside us and extending her