Just for Fins
Page 10
I clasp my hands together as I finish, proud of myself for making it all the way to the end of my thoughts without stumbling once. I look out eagerly at the room.
It feels like an eternity before anyone responds. My heart beats faster, and I have to squeeze my hands tighter to keep them from shaking. I’m facing down the most powerful merfolk in my corner of the ocean—and their entourages—and they’re looking at me like I’ve asked for a great white-themed birthday party.
When someone—Queen Dumontia, of course—finally speaks, I twirl to face her with equal parts anticipation and fear.
I shouldn’t have bothered with the anticipation.
“How dare you?” she demands, and I swear I can feel her chill all the way across the table. “To ask for generosity in times such as these? Acropora is not the only kingdom suffering the effects of environmental change.”
“No, it’s not.”
“So are we.”
“Us too.”
As several kings and queens chime in, I glance around the table. “What do you mean?”
“The polar ice caps are melting,” Dumontia says. “The saline concentration in our waters is fluctuating, and the plankton at the base of our food chain is dying. All levels of our ecosystem are suffering subtle but ultimately catastrophic changes.”
“I—I’m sorry,” I say, focusing on sounding intelligent and not standing there slack-jawed at the confession. “I didn’t know.”
I mean, of course I knew about melting polar ice caps. Everyone who’s taken a science class in the last decade knows about melting polar ice caps. But I hadn’t made the connection between that and the northern mer kingdoms.
I should have realized.
“Perhaps we can help you, too,” I suggest.
“And what about Desfleurelle?” King Zostero asks. “That pipeline leak was far worse than the human news reported. Millions of gallons of oil flooded our waters, drowning surface species and coating acres of marine life with an oily film.”
“You have received aid,” Daddy says, and I’m grateful for him stepping in to help. “From several kingdoms, including Acropora. Can you not return the favor?”
“A reluctant handout,” Zostero counters. “Your kingdom’s leftovers.”
“The oil reached our kingdom as well,” the queen of Costa Solara chimes in. “None sent aid to us.”
“That little spill is nothing to the overfishing in our kingdoms,” the queen of Nephropida adds. “Every year, finding enough food to feed my people becomes more and more difficult. Not only in my kingdom’s waters, but in Trigonum and Rosmarus as well.”
The kings of those two kingdoms nod in agreement.
“Perhaps you should not have cut off trading with all kingdoms in the south,” Daddy argues.
“You are so naive,” Dumontia says to me, ignoring everyone else in the room as their voices escalate, “to think you could call this meeting and hold out your hand to help your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my—”
“To think one kingdom is in any greater need than another,” she interrupts. “It is pure fantasy.”
“I didn’t mean that—”
“What do you know of the mer world anymore?”
“You’ve been living on land too long.”
“You’ve grown out of touch.”
“Now that is unfair,” Daddy argues.
The other voices are growing so loud that I can’t distinguish them.
“I must look out for my own,” a voice louder than the others says. “I must take action to protect my kingdom and my people.”
Then the room erupts. It’s as if everyone starts talking at once, comparing stories of environmental tragedy within their kingdoms. Arguing and bickering.
I look to Tellin, helpless, but he has moved to his father’s side, trying to calm the old king down as he argues with the rulers on either side of him. I float slowly back from the table.
I thought I’d been calling a meeting to request help for Acropora, a kingdom dying as ocean warming kills off their coral reefs. A simple plea for aid that I thought would be readily answered.
Instead, I find the entire Western Atlantic in environmental turmoil. Thalassinia, it seems, has been lucky so far. We are protected, carefully situated between the overfished waters to the north, the warming waters to the south, and the oil-filled waters to the west.
I’ve always known Thalassinia was one of the more prosperous kingdoms. I just hadn’t realized we were so lucky, too.
Across the long length of the table, Tellin lifts his gaze and looks at me. He doesn’t have to say a word. The bond takes care of that, of sharing his feelings with me, even at a distance. I can tell he’s disappointed, and it’s all my fault. I insisted we call this council of kings and queens, I insisted it was the best way to help his people. I was so sure. So confident.
So wrong.
The voices in the room get louder and the arguments swell. Each king or queen is adamant that his or her kingdom suffers the worst fate. Their shouts echo off the chamber walls until all I hear is the roar of sound vibrating through the water.
“Enough!” Dumontia’s shout resonates above all the rest.
The room falls silent once more as the arguments gradually fade and the occupants turn their attention to the arctic queen.
“This,” she says with a sneer, waving her hand over the table, “has been a waste of time and resources.” Her eyes focus in on me. “Do not call for my attendance again.”
It feels like an eternity before anyone responds. My heart beats faster, and I have to squeeze my hands tighter to keep them from shaking. I’m facing down the most powerful merfolk in my corner of the ocean—and their entourages—and they’re looking at me like I’ve asked for a great white-themed birthday party.
When someone—Queen Dumontia, of course—finally speaks, I twirl to face her with equal parts anticipation and fear.
I shouldn’t have bothered with the anticipation.
“How dare you?” she demands, and I swear I can feel her chill all the way across the table. “To ask for generosity in times such as these? Acropora is not the only kingdom suffering the effects of environmental change.”
“No, it’s not.”
“So are we.”
“Us too.”
As several kings and queens chime in, I glance around the table. “What do you mean?”
“The polar ice caps are melting,” Dumontia says. “The saline concentration in our waters is fluctuating, and the plankton at the base of our food chain is dying. All levels of our ecosystem are suffering subtle but ultimately catastrophic changes.”
“I—I’m sorry,” I say, focusing on sounding intelligent and not standing there slack-jawed at the confession. “I didn’t know.”
I mean, of course I knew about melting polar ice caps. Everyone who’s taken a science class in the last decade knows about melting polar ice caps. But I hadn’t made the connection between that and the northern mer kingdoms.
I should have realized.
“Perhaps we can help you, too,” I suggest.
“And what about Desfleurelle?” King Zostero asks. “That pipeline leak was far worse than the human news reported. Millions of gallons of oil flooded our waters, drowning surface species and coating acres of marine life with an oily film.”
“You have received aid,” Daddy says, and I’m grateful for him stepping in to help. “From several kingdoms, including Acropora. Can you not return the favor?”
“A reluctant handout,” Zostero counters. “Your kingdom’s leftovers.”
“The oil reached our kingdom as well,” the queen of Costa Solara chimes in. “None sent aid to us.”
“That little spill is nothing to the overfishing in our kingdoms,” the queen of Nephropida adds. “Every year, finding enough food to feed my people becomes more and more difficult. Not only in my kingdom’s waters, but in Trigonum and Rosmarus as well.”
The kings of those two kingdoms nod in agreement.
“Perhaps you should not have cut off trading with all kingdoms in the south,” Daddy argues.
“You are so naive,” Dumontia says to me, ignoring everyone else in the room as their voices escalate, “to think you could call this meeting and hold out your hand to help your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my—”
“To think one kingdom is in any greater need than another,” she interrupts. “It is pure fantasy.”
“I didn’t mean that—”
“What do you know of the mer world anymore?”
“You’ve been living on land too long.”
“You’ve grown out of touch.”
“Now that is unfair,” Daddy argues.
The other voices are growing so loud that I can’t distinguish them.
“I must look out for my own,” a voice louder than the others says. “I must take action to protect my kingdom and my people.”
Then the room erupts. It’s as if everyone starts talking at once, comparing stories of environmental tragedy within their kingdoms. Arguing and bickering.
I look to Tellin, helpless, but he has moved to his father’s side, trying to calm the old king down as he argues with the rulers on either side of him. I float slowly back from the table.
I thought I’d been calling a meeting to request help for Acropora, a kingdom dying as ocean warming kills off their coral reefs. A simple plea for aid that I thought would be readily answered.
Instead, I find the entire Western Atlantic in environmental turmoil. Thalassinia, it seems, has been lucky so far. We are protected, carefully situated between the overfished waters to the north, the warming waters to the south, and the oil-filled waters to the west.
I’ve always known Thalassinia was one of the more prosperous kingdoms. I just hadn’t realized we were so lucky, too.
Across the long length of the table, Tellin lifts his gaze and looks at me. He doesn’t have to say a word. The bond takes care of that, of sharing his feelings with me, even at a distance. I can tell he’s disappointed, and it’s all my fault. I insisted we call this council of kings and queens, I insisted it was the best way to help his people. I was so sure. So confident.
So wrong.
The voices in the room get louder and the arguments swell. Each king or queen is adamant that his or her kingdom suffers the worst fate. Their shouts echo off the chamber walls until all I hear is the roar of sound vibrating through the water.
“Enough!” Dumontia’s shout resonates above all the rest.
The room falls silent once more as the arguments gradually fade and the occupants turn their attention to the arctic queen.
“This,” she says with a sneer, waving her hand over the table, “has been a waste of time and resources.” Her eyes focus in on me. “Do not call for my attendance again.”
