I know this is what I wanted to happen, but does it al have to be so in-my-face?
“Something wrong?” Tel in asks.
I glance—okay, glare—at the armchair where he’s been spending practical y al his time since he got here on Monday. He’s mentioned his proposal a couple of times, but he hasn’t been pushing the issue.
“No,” I snap. “I mean, yes. Not real y. I just—” I shake my head. “I don’t need to see my baby cousin making al lovey-dovey with my ex-crush.”
I flop on the couch, jerk open the zipper on my bag, and pul out my SAT prep guide. Flipping it open to the next sample test, I slam it on the coffee table and slide down onto the floor to begin.
“You’ve been spending a lot of your time with that book,” Tel in observes. “May I ask why?”
“Because,” I explain, trying to scan the rules for the first section, even though I should have them memorized by now, “the test is on Saturday and if I don’t do real y, real y wel , then I won’t get into col ege because my grades have been pretty pitiful because until three weeks ago I thought I didn’t need to worry about a future on land because I was going to become a mer queen and spend my years ruling over Thalassinia instead of studying literature and American Government.”
A long silence fil s the room after my mini rant. Final y Tel in laughs and says, “Now tel me your true feelings.” I slump. “I know it’s not the most important thing in the world,” I admit. Things like war and famine and ocean warming come to mind. “But if I want to protect the oceans in an official, scientific capacity, then I need higher education. I can’t become a marine biologist without at least a col ege degree.”
“You can help the oceans in another way,” he says quietly.
I guess I should be thankful he’s been quiet as long as he has. Maybe he’s been patiently waiting for the right moment.
Now is not that moment.
“Tel me why.” I lay my pencil down in the open seam of the study guide. “Why do you think this is such a great idea?”
“I told you why.”
“You told me a reason,” I argue. “But I don’t think you’ve told me your reason.”
“Lily,” Tel in says, sinking down onto the floor next to me,
“you are the best hope for Thalassinia’s future. For the future freedom of al the mer kingdoms. With our forces united, we wil be able to enact positive change—”
“This is everything you said before.” And everything that tugged at the lifetime of duty that Daddy trained into me.
But something is missing. “You have another reason. I can sense it.”
“You’re wrong,” he says with another laugh. “I have been raised to honor duty before al else, just like you. I can imagine no better way to fulfil our duties than by joining our kingdoms for the greater good.”
“I just don’t think I can—”
“You know that’s why my father stopped speaking to yours, right?”
“What?” I jerk back. “No. Why?”
“King Whelk wanted to enter us into an arranged marriage,” Tel in explains. “My father disagreed. He wanted me to seek out my true love, my true mermate. When your father insisted, mine severed relations.”
“That’s impossible.” I shake my head, not able to wrap my mind around the idea of Daddy wanting to sign my future away on a piece of paper. It seems so unlike him.
“It’s not,” Tel in says. “This is another reason why I think my plan is a good one. It is what your father has wanted al along.” His gaze drifts toward the front door, but I can tel he’s not seeing anything. “As difficult as it is for me to admit, my father was wrong in this. Our union can only be for the best of both our kingdoms.”
He makes it seem so tempting. The fact that I’m even considering the possibility is ridiculous. But, like we’ve always said… “What if?”
“What if,” Tel in says, jumping on my opening, “we bonded and—”
“What if who bonded?”
“Quince!” I jump at the sound of his voice. He walks into the living room with a dark look on his face. And no wonder, if he heard what Tel in and I were talking about.
“I thought you were at work?” I ask, hopeful y not sounding
—or looking—guilty.
“I was,” he says flatly. “There’s a tropical storm coming in, so they closed the lumberyard.” He throws Tel in a dark look. “What if who bonded?”
“It’s just a game we used to play as guppies,” I explain before Tel in can respond. He could only make the situation worse. “One of us starts a what-if, and then we keep going down that path, alternating what-ifs until we get to a conclusion. Or we start laughing too hard to continue.”
“A game,” Quince echoes. “So, in what what-if are the two of you bonded?”
“It’s just a—”
Tel in interrupts. “I commented on how funny it would be if we had bonded as children,” he lies. “We almost shared a first kiss once or twice, but Lily was always the levelheaded one.” He grins at me. “Spurned my every advance.” I throw Tel in a grateful smile. Not that he and I were doing anything wrong, but stil . My relationship with Quince—our official boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, anyway—is stil pretty new. I don’t want him worrying over something that would never happen.