Fins Are Forever
Page 30

We al laugh.
It feels good to be in this room, with the two ladies who are practical y my second family. It feels… normal. No matter what’s happening on land, I almost never feel normal. There’s that smal part of me that wil always feel out of place. Sometimes I forget how it feels to belong.
Then, smal talk over, Peri’s mom turns al business. I’m ushered under the canopy, wrapped in yards of neutral cloth so she can make a model of the gown to use as a pattern without having to risk her beautiful—and expensive—
fabrics.
“I’m thinking we can go a little lower with the neckline this time,” she says around the straight pins she’s holding in the corner of her mouth. This always makes me nervous because I’m afraid she’l swal ow one. Even though she insists she hasn’t swal owed one in her nearly thirty years as a dressmaker and she’s not about to start now.
“You’re official y becoming a woman,” she continues, thankful y using the last of her pins to secure the fabric around my torso. “We should show off your womanly shape.”
My cheeks heat at the subtle compliment.
For the next few minutes, the room is a flurry of pinning and cutting and floating back to evaluate the shape and pinning some more. A sheet of white covers the ful -length mirror so I can’t see what it looks like in progress. Instead, I focus my attention on Peri. She has always worked with her mom, but today she seems to be more of an equal assistant than just a helper.
And she’s obviously been assisting a lot lately.
“Who were you fitting earlier?” I ask, to fil the silence.
“Peri said they were real y horrid.”
Mrs. Wentletrap throws her daughter a scowl. As if she’s one to talk. I’ve heard more gossip from her than the talkative palace housekeeper, Margarite, could ever hope to know.
Peri ignores the look. “Guess.”
“I don’t—”
She gives me a come-on-you-know-who-I-mean look.
Which can only mean one thing.
“Oh, no,” I groan. “Not the terrible trio.”
“None other.”
Now I real y feel sorry for Peri and her mom. Astria, Piper, and Venus are three of the worst sea witches ever to swim in the ocean. They’re the daughters of nobles and diplomats, so I ran into them a lot growing up, and none of those run-ins ever ended wel for me. They never let a chance for a cutting comment float by.
I wouldn’t wish their presence on anybody. Those three smile to your face and then harpoon you in the back at the first opportunity. I never thought I’d admit this, but I’d rather spend more time with Doe. At least she’s always straightforward in her attitude.
“Sorry,” I say, meaning it.
Peri shrugs like it’s no big deal. I know that it is. They’ve always been particularly harsh with her because she’s my best friend. Their jealousy is obvious.
I’ve always defended her, but that only seems to make them try that much harder to hurt her. If I were queen, I’d have them exiled indefinitely.
“What if the skirt was fitted to about halfway down the fin?” Peri suggests in a blatant change of subject. “And then maybe a short, petticoated ruffle at the bottom.” Both Wentletraps float back a few feet, tilt their heads in unison, and squint at my fin. I know better than to interrupt the thought processing.
“You know what?” her mom says. “I think that might just be the perfect solution.”
Peri positively beams at her mom’s approval. Since forever she’s talked about becoming a lawyer—I think so she could argue cases in my court—but I wonder if she wouldn’t be happier fol owing in her mom’s wake.
Especial y since, after the renunciation ceremony on my birthday, I won’t ever have a court.
“So, Lily,” Mrs. Wentletrap says, taking in the skirt to match Peri’s idea, “you haven’t said what brought you home.”
My eyes meet Peri’s over her mom’s head. Confiding a secret in Peri is easy; she’s my best friend. If I were becoming queen, I’d make her my adviser in a heartbeat.
But her mom is… her mom. Like I said, she has gossip issues. Peri gives me an it’s-your-cal look and a shrug.
I’m not sure why, but I feel compel ed to keep Daddy’s—
and Doe’s—secret.
“Just felt a little homesick,” I say, which is always true.
“That’s completely understandable,” she says absently, stil absorbed in her cutting and pinning.
Usual y I wouldn’t go out of my way to protect Doe, after how awful she’s been to me since, oh, forever. But if Daddy thinks it’s important for her exile to remain a secret, then I trust his judgment. If she were the type to repay debts, I’d say she owes me for this. Since she’s not, I’l just content myself with taking the higher road.
“How long wil you be here?” Mrs. Wentletrap asks, floating back to evaluate her work.
“Hopeful y just until morning,” I say. Then I remember I’m supposed to be here by choice. “I mean, unfortunately only until morning. I have a real y important meeting.” Mrs. Wentletrap turns to Peri. “What do you think?
“I think,” Peri says, pul ing the sheet from the mirror and gesturing for me to take a look, “that it is going to be spectacular.”
The vision in the mirror, the girl with silky blond hair, fair freckled skin, and a fin-tight dress that hugs—and accentuates—al the appropriate curves… wel , she doesn’t look like me. She looks like a grown-up with my features, and I definitely don’t feel like a grown-up.