Forgive My Fins
Page 25

“Won’t take but a few minutes.”
“Da—”
“We can go to my office right now and—”
“It was a mistake!” I shout, way louder than I intended, but he just wasn’t listening. What else was I supposed to do?
Besides, it works. Daddy stops talking. He stops smiling, too. In fact, he’s kind of frowning—no, make that scowling.
That’s when I realize the entire ball has fallen silent around us. Not even the current stirs as I feel all attention on me. I squeeze my eyes shut. The entire assembly just heard my outburst…and now they’re eagerly awaiting the next move.
“My office,” Daddy roars. “Now!”
He jets off, expecting us to follow. I glare at Quince, because even if he didn’t know what he was getting into, this is all his fault. Graysby and Grouper grab Quince, one at each arm, and carry him to the door and out into the hall. Leaving me completely alone in a room full of people staring at me. As I turn to follow, I catch Peri’s gaze across the room. She gives me a sympathetic smile, knowing I’m in for some kind of tirade. Then, without looking at any of the other dozens of pairs of eyes watching me, I flick my way to the door and head for Daddy’s tower office.
I was fully prepared to deal with a furious father when I got home. Just not one who was furious because I wasn’t bonding to a human. Maybe it’s the full moon that’s making everything and everyone go all swirly.
I can’t think of anything that could conceivably make this situation worse.
Daddy is pacing up a whirlpool when I swim into his office. Quince is sitting on one of the two chairs facing Daddy’s massive desk. Although merfolk don’t really need chairs—who needs to sit when you can float?—they are a ceremonial holdover from Poseidon’s court.
As I swim around to take the other chair, Quince gives me an apologetic smile. My anger at him deflates a little. (It’s always harder to hold on to my irritation underwater.) He’s gotten swept up in this just as much as anyone else, but I can sense that he feels bad for getting me in trouble.
Great, the bond is totally broadcasting his emotions. Next thing you know, I’ll be reading his thoughts, too. We need to get this thing severed before the line between what’s real and what’s the bond turns into total murk.
“Daddy,” I begin. “I—”
“Silence!”
I sink into the chair next to Quince. Being the daughter of the king, I learned a long time ago to keep my mouth shut when he’s on a rampage.
Daddy takes a few deep breaths, and that seems to calm him. Then, with a gentler expression on his face, he settles into the ornate chair behind his desk. His hands grip the curved arms so tightly that his knuckles turn white, but his face is completely calm.
He’s trying to act like Daddy, but I can tell His Royal Highness King Whelk is lurking just beneath the surface.
“Please explain how this”—he gestures at me and Quince—“is a ‘mistake.’”
“Well, Daddy, there’s this boy—”
“No,” he interrupts. Pointing at Quince, he says, “I’d like him to tell me what happened.”
Quince leans forward in his seat and nods, like he understands what’s going on here. Good, that makes one of us. Must be a guy thing.
“It was my fault, sir,” he says, sounding all respectful. “Your daughter was expecting to meet another young man, but when he was unable to make the appointment, I arrived instead.”
I gape at Quince. Who is this guy sitting in my father’s office? And what has he done with the obnoxious biker boy I brought to Thalassinia? This guy is all big words and respect and reverence. Nothing like the Quince I know on land.
Maybe water’s mellowing him, too.
“And the kiss?” Daddy growls.
I wince. Is there any greater torture than sitting there listening as your first kiss—I still can’t believe that, for the rest of my life, my first kiss will always have been Quince Fletcher—tells your dad all about the experience? Humans should feel grateful they can keep theirs a secret.
“My apologies, sir,” Quince says. “I don’t feel comfortable discussing the details of a very private moment. But I can assure you that I am entirely to blame for the situation. Lily could not have guessed that I would kiss her.”
My breath rushes out in a relieved whirl. I’ll have to thank Quince for that small favor. Although, if I’m being honest, I kind of wonder what Quince thought of the kiss. My fins curled—because I thought he was Brody—but what about him? Was it just another kiss?
Daddy doesn’t speak, just nods. Elbows resting on the arms of his chair, he steeples his fingers together beneath his chin. His stormy gray eyes have a faraway look, and I can tell he’s trying to figure out what to do. Well, I can tell him what to do. Perform the separation ritual so Quince and I can go home and get back to our regular lives.
Not that I say anything.
“All right, I’ll grant the separation,” Daddy finally says. Then, before I can squeal for joy—not that I expected him to do anything else—he adds, “Tomorrow night.”
I gawk. “What?”
“Can you remain overnight without complications?” he asks Quince, ignoring my outburst.
Quince nods. “Yes, sir.”
“You may go,” Daddy says, waving Quince away. “I would like to speak with my daughter privately.”