Forgive My Fins
Page 22
Closer to the center are the older, more established neighborhoods. Many of the residents of the inner circle work in the palace. Peri’s family lives there, just outside the royal complex, in a three-story home with a ship’s bell on top. Her bedroom is on the top floor, and her window faces mine across the palace yard. We used to send bubble messages to each other long after we were supposed to be asleep.
When Quince and I reach the edge of the royal complex, I slow down. My heart rate kicks up to shark-attack pace. I’m almost as nervous to tell Daddy what happened as I was to ask Brody to the dance. Almost.
“This your place?” Quince asks. “Pretty fancy digs.”
The royal complex is impressive.
It’s supposed to be.
A low reef fence surrounds the grounds—it’s more of a marker than a barrier, since anyone could just swim right over. Thalassinia and the other mer kingdoms have been at peace for years, and Daddy has an open-palace policy, so there’s no reason to keep folks out.
The main gate—a pair of coral towers covered with sea whips and sponge seaweed—marks the end of the Great Thalassinian Way. Humans know this as the Bimini Road. Treasure hunters and myth seekers think it might be the remains of Atlantis. Nope, it’s actually a really obnoxious “royal aisle.” My great-great-great-great-grandfather had kind of an ego thing and wanted to force every merperson in the sea to swim a nautical mile to reach his throne. Even his guards. Which explains how he got devoured by a giant squid while they were still half a nautical mile away. Thankfully, our leadership abilities have improved since then.
Beyond the gate are the royal gardens, a vast seascape of rainbow-colored algae, kelps, corals, sponges, sea fans, and anemones. My tower room overlooks the gardens, and I used to love watching how they changed throughout the seasons. It’s spring right now, so there are bright highlights of pink and yellow among the constant blues, greens, and browns. You can’t help but feel the energy of spring with a field of magenta anemone petals below your window.
At the center of it all is the palace, a massive, vaguely star-shaped volcanic formation with five coral towers at the points. Out of habit I glance up at my window in the southwest tower. I’m surprised to find the light on. The cleaning staff is probably working late. Daddy always keeps my room ready, just in case I decide to pop home.
“By the way,” I say as we approach the gates. “There’s something you need to know before we go in.”
As much as I’d like to keep my royal title a secret, I’m not going to get through this without Quince finding out the truth. Maybe if I tell him first, he’ll keep his trap shut when we get inside.
“What’s that, princess?”
“I’m not just any mermaid,” I explain. “I’m a—”
“Princess Waterlily!”
I swallow a groan as one of the guards rushes from their station in the right-hand tower, kicking into attention in front of me. He holds three spread fingers against his forehead in salute.
“Captain Barnacle,” he shouts over his shoulder, “the princess is home!”
“Good evening, Cid,” I reply, hiding my annoyance like a good princess should and saluting back so he’ll relax. Not that he does. He’s too excited. I suppose it was too much to hope that we could slip into the palace unnoticed, get the separation, and then return to Seaview with no one but Daddy having to know. “How have you been?”
At nearly ninety, Cidaris is approaching retirement age—merfolk are extremely long-lived—but Daddy would never ask him to retire. He’s more like family than royal guard.
“Wonderful, thank you, Princess,” he replies, still at attention. “Your visit is an unexpected surprise.”
For you and me both, Cid.
Barney emerges from the tower, straightening the collar on his uniform jacket as he hurries to Cid’s side.
“I informed the palace,” he announces.
But I don’t think Cid hears a word Barney said, because he finally notices the cargo on my back. His eyes widen a little in realization, and then he smiles. An I-just-won-the-lottery smile.
“Oh, Princess,” he says. He softens all over and rushes forward to give me a hug, grabbing Quince in his embrace too. “I’m so very happy for you. Your father will be thrilled.”
Sure he will. When I tell him I want a separation. If he didn’t approve of any of the mermen who came to court me, many of them mer royalty, he’s definitely going to be thrilled to send Quince packing.
“Oh my,” Barney says. “Oh my, oh my, oh my.” Then he rushes back into the tower, presumably to give the palace a bubble message update.
Great! Why does everything have to be a giant spectacle? In my time as an average, almost-invisible, nonroyal normal girl at Seaview, I’ve happily forgotten how every little detail of my life gets blown out of proportion down here. This isn’t breaking news. It’s a mistake. Bad luck. Nothing special. Quince is just a regular boy. A rude, obnoxious, tormenting regular boy. Who leans close and whispers in my ear, “What was that you wanted to tell me?” He pauses, his soft lips warm against my ear sending shivers all over, before adding, “Princess?”
I am never going to hear the end of this.
Margarite, the palace housekeeper, meets us at the door.
Instead of showing us to Daddy’s office, where he spends practically every waking hour and occasional sleeping ones, she leads us to the ballroom. She is glowing like a flashlight fish. For the palace gossip queen, Quince and I must be like the best present ever. The entire kingdom will know within minutes. Well, at least I won’t be here to deal with the cleanup. We’ll talk to Daddy—correction, I’ll talk to Daddy. I don’t trust Quince to open his mouth without winding up with a trident shoved up his—Wait, why did I think that was a bad idea?
When Quince and I reach the edge of the royal complex, I slow down. My heart rate kicks up to shark-attack pace. I’m almost as nervous to tell Daddy what happened as I was to ask Brody to the dance. Almost.
“This your place?” Quince asks. “Pretty fancy digs.”
The royal complex is impressive.
It’s supposed to be.
A low reef fence surrounds the grounds—it’s more of a marker than a barrier, since anyone could just swim right over. Thalassinia and the other mer kingdoms have been at peace for years, and Daddy has an open-palace policy, so there’s no reason to keep folks out.
The main gate—a pair of coral towers covered with sea whips and sponge seaweed—marks the end of the Great Thalassinian Way. Humans know this as the Bimini Road. Treasure hunters and myth seekers think it might be the remains of Atlantis. Nope, it’s actually a really obnoxious “royal aisle.” My great-great-great-great-grandfather had kind of an ego thing and wanted to force every merperson in the sea to swim a nautical mile to reach his throne. Even his guards. Which explains how he got devoured by a giant squid while they were still half a nautical mile away. Thankfully, our leadership abilities have improved since then.
Beyond the gate are the royal gardens, a vast seascape of rainbow-colored algae, kelps, corals, sponges, sea fans, and anemones. My tower room overlooks the gardens, and I used to love watching how they changed throughout the seasons. It’s spring right now, so there are bright highlights of pink and yellow among the constant blues, greens, and browns. You can’t help but feel the energy of spring with a field of magenta anemone petals below your window.
At the center of it all is the palace, a massive, vaguely star-shaped volcanic formation with five coral towers at the points. Out of habit I glance up at my window in the southwest tower. I’m surprised to find the light on. The cleaning staff is probably working late. Daddy always keeps my room ready, just in case I decide to pop home.
“By the way,” I say as we approach the gates. “There’s something you need to know before we go in.”
As much as I’d like to keep my royal title a secret, I’m not going to get through this without Quince finding out the truth. Maybe if I tell him first, he’ll keep his trap shut when we get inside.
“What’s that, princess?”
“I’m not just any mermaid,” I explain. “I’m a—”
“Princess Waterlily!”
I swallow a groan as one of the guards rushes from their station in the right-hand tower, kicking into attention in front of me. He holds three spread fingers against his forehead in salute.
“Captain Barnacle,” he shouts over his shoulder, “the princess is home!”
“Good evening, Cid,” I reply, hiding my annoyance like a good princess should and saluting back so he’ll relax. Not that he does. He’s too excited. I suppose it was too much to hope that we could slip into the palace unnoticed, get the separation, and then return to Seaview with no one but Daddy having to know. “How have you been?”
At nearly ninety, Cidaris is approaching retirement age—merfolk are extremely long-lived—but Daddy would never ask him to retire. He’s more like family than royal guard.
“Wonderful, thank you, Princess,” he replies, still at attention. “Your visit is an unexpected surprise.”
For you and me both, Cid.
Barney emerges from the tower, straightening the collar on his uniform jacket as he hurries to Cid’s side.
“I informed the palace,” he announces.
But I don’t think Cid hears a word Barney said, because he finally notices the cargo on my back. His eyes widen a little in realization, and then he smiles. An I-just-won-the-lottery smile.
“Oh, Princess,” he says. He softens all over and rushes forward to give me a hug, grabbing Quince in his embrace too. “I’m so very happy for you. Your father will be thrilled.”
Sure he will. When I tell him I want a separation. If he didn’t approve of any of the mermen who came to court me, many of them mer royalty, he’s definitely going to be thrilled to send Quince packing.
“Oh my,” Barney says. “Oh my, oh my, oh my.” Then he rushes back into the tower, presumably to give the palace a bubble message update.
Great! Why does everything have to be a giant spectacle? In my time as an average, almost-invisible, nonroyal normal girl at Seaview, I’ve happily forgotten how every little detail of my life gets blown out of proportion down here. This isn’t breaking news. It’s a mistake. Bad luck. Nothing special. Quince is just a regular boy. A rude, obnoxious, tormenting regular boy. Who leans close and whispers in my ear, “What was that you wanted to tell me?” He pauses, his soft lips warm against my ear sending shivers all over, before adding, “Princess?”
I am never going to hear the end of this.
Margarite, the palace housekeeper, meets us at the door.
Instead of showing us to Daddy’s office, where he spends practically every waking hour and occasional sleeping ones, she leads us to the ballroom. She is glowing like a flashlight fish. For the palace gossip queen, Quince and I must be like the best present ever. The entire kingdom will know within minutes. Well, at least I won’t be here to deal with the cleanup. We’ll talk to Daddy—correction, I’ll talk to Daddy. I don’t trust Quince to open his mouth without winding up with a trident shoved up his—Wait, why did I think that was a bad idea?
