usher the rest back inland Come on.”

When he turns around and I don’t follow, he knows what I’m about

to do. The sun and moon are stuck, splitting each other in half. As if

she’s reading my mind, Amada is at the shoreline waiting for me.

“This wasn’t the plan,” he says. I might be crazy, but I think he

sounds concerned. “You said-”

“I have to go now,” I tell him.

He nods once. “When I first met you, I didn’t think I’d be here

side by side in your fight. I couldn’t wait to get your kind off the

shore.”

I grin. “Did my charming ways make you change your mind?”

He pulls his hands in his pockets. “Who says I changed my mind?”

But he holds his arm out for me to take, all the same.

“What should I tell the others?”

“That nothing else has changed.” I take his hand. “And remember,

wait for my signal.”

Amada breathes in deeply. The air is thick with salt. In this gray

noon, I’d never guess it’s summer.

“There is blood in the water,” she says.

“You can still turn around,” I say. “You don’t have to do this.”

She gives me a long sideways glance, her loose black hair all over

her face. In her human form, it’s easy to forget how powerful she is.

That she’s a cursed being. That her talons can rip your head clean

off.

“Any other prince would be happy that so many clamor to risk their

lives for him,” she says. “Yet you would rather risk your own.”

“Don’t ask me to explain,” I say.

“Not asking.”

The Alliance has cleared the shoreline, and they’re putting

themselves in place like chess pieces. Somewhere Layla is wondering

where I’ve gone off to, why I didn’t say good-bye. And I know that I

couldn’t say good-bye to her. When I close my eyes, I don’t see Nieve

or Gwen. I see Layla on top of me, pressing her hands on my chest,

kissing me like she might never get another chance.

Amada nudges my shoulder. “Focus.”

“Focus.” I repeat the word over and over. Focus on Toliss Island

ahead of us and the white room where the nautilus maid waits for me.

Focus on not giving up. Focus on being alive.

My body hums with energy and anticipation until I think I’ll burst

right out of my skin.

And we run straight into a cresting wave. The sea tries to push us

back at first, but we push ahead and swim on. My eyes adjust to the

dark water. I hold my dagger ahead of me and let my tail do the work.

We swim for two miles surrounded by silence and dark. I swallow

against the coppery tastes in the sea, the mangled body parts that

float back up to the surface. It nearly makes me retch because I can’t

get the flavor out of my mouth.

Then we see the island. From beneath, it is an expanse of stone.

The tunnels are lit with the white-blue light of tiny creatures that

cling to the stone walls. Beneath that, the shark guard are chained in

a circle, ravenously biting at the space in front of them. Their skin

is raw where their chains have drawn blood.

Around them, merrows swim in a circle, taunting the creatures.

Amada and I hold back, watching and waiting for the right time. If

we move too quickly, they’ll know we’re there and we’ll lose the

advantage of a surprise attack. I swim close to the ground and stay

behind the boulders.

“If we go in from different directions, we can create enough of a

distraction to get rid of the merrows and then free the sharks.”

I wait for Amada to agree with me because this was what we decided

on. Distract the merrows and get in through the tunnels.

“Amada?”

She’s gone. I look over the boulders, and there she is, swimming

in her beast form. Her dragon jaw is open wide; her hind legs retract

to let her tail do the work. If I scream for her to stop, it’ll give

away her position.

The merrows shift around like they can smell something new,

something dark and threatening, her roar a deep echo around them.

When I fought her, I know she was holding back. She’s faster than

I imagined. With her claws, she rips across a puffer merrow’s chest,

slicing so deep that she rips the heart out before he breaks down into

black blood. Before the others can reach her, she lunges with an open

jaw, ripping the head off a hammer-headed merrow. She doesn’t spit it

back out.

They’re crazed, and she undulates, swimming toward the sharks. I

ready myself to help her. There’s no way she can take two dozen of

those things and another dozen sharks.

But she cries out and even though I can’t fully understand the cry

of the river people, I know she’s telling me to stay put. With her

claws, she breaks the chains that hold back the shark guard. One, two,

five, ten. Their teeth are like bear traps closing against bone. They

charge straight at the merrows, and within minutes, they’ve swallowed

them whole.

As the sharks swim in a cyclone formation Amada swims between

them. They nudge her body in a silent thank-you.

I hover just outside their circle. Then they stop. I brandish

Triton’s dagger and they part for me. Amada shifts into her human

torso.

“You didn’t wait for me.” I frown.

“I saw an opening and I took it,” she says. “The way is clear.”

The shark guard swims around the island, but they’re not a danger

to me or mine.

“I will return to the others. I will tell them I saw you through

safely.”

And then I swim up into the bright light of the tunnels.

•••

The tunnels are a maze. Thalia said to choose one of the openings

on the east, which would lead me to the farthest chambers where

prisoners are held.

The problem with looking at an island from underneath is that I

don’t know where east is.

I take my best guess and decide to not jump out of the pool like a

topless girl inside a birthday cake. Nope, that would give away the

element of surprise.

The first tunnel leads me to a dim-lit room. I break the surface

slowly, keeping my body pressed against the stone. I don’t recognize

the voices, but there are children crying. The sound is pained and

lonely and scared. Footsteps walk in quickly. A girl’s voice cooing.

“Please don’t cry,” she begs.

Then another. A softer voice, singing. Gwen.

“They’re pretty,” the strange girl says. “Aren’t they? All things

are pretty when they’re small. Even us.”

Us.

I chance it and lift my head a fraction over the ledge of the

pool. Gwen and the girl have their back to me. They cradle babies in

their arms. Their faces are distorted, like looking at something

through broken glass. They’re merrow babies. Dozens and dozens of them

in their own cribs.

“Does Mother truly have the power to make them better?”

“Not better,” Gwen says. “There’s nothing wrong with them. She can

only make them stronger.”

The girl looks confused, as if everything she’s learned is

changing in front of her eyes.

“When do we get to name them?” she asks eagerly.

“When they’re ready,” Gwen snaps, and the girl shrinks back.

A new wave of merrow babies for Nieve to raise.

“I like this one. His skin is like a sunset.” The girl rubs the

baby’s back. “Can we call him Sunset?”

Gwen makes a feral sound and the girl backs away, putting the

sunset merrow baby back in its crib. She looks my way and I sink down.

I hurry back through the tunnels, keeping myself flat against the

stones. When I press on the light creatures, they pull back into the

tiny pores of the wall. I take another route and swim upward, breaking