Confused, I scan the front page headline.
TWO WORKERS MISSING AFTER OIL RIG ACCIDENT
“Oh no,” I gasp.
I skim the article, which talks about an unexplained accident at an offshore oil rig in the gulf—along the northern edge of Desfleurelle. A piece of machinery that was inspected only last week malfunctioned, sending two workers overboard and several to the infirmary. This is exactly the kind of thing Aurita warned me would happen.
“I thought your dad said there was nothing to worry about,” Quince says. “I thought he checked things out.”
“He did,” I insist. “He thought Aurita made it all up.”
“Clearly he was wrong.”
“This could just be a coincidence?” I suggest weakly. I don’t like thinking that Daddy made this kind of mistake and people got hurt.
Quince scowls at me. “Lily . . .”
“I know, I know,” I say. “He was wrong.”
He was wrong to trust King Zostero over Princess Aurita, and I was wrong to trust Daddy’s investigation over my gut. I knew something was going to happen, I believed Aurita, so the responsibility lies with me.
The article says that while search efforts continue for the missing workers, the rig is out of commission due to the malfunction. King Zostero wanted revenge, wanted the drilling to stop, and he succeeded. I only hope that Aurita’s brother isn’t one of the missing or injured men.
Now my responsibility is to make sure nothing more happens to endanger human lives.
I walk to the still-open kitchen door and call a messenger gull. While I’m waiting for it to arrive, I grab a sheet of kelpaper and a squid-ink pen from the junk drawer and scribble a note.
Daddy,
You were wrong. Please send guards to accompany me to Desfleurelle after school today. I will leave from Seaview Beach Park at 4:00 p.m.
XOXO,
Lily
When the messenger gull is on its way, I turn back to Quince.
“I can’t undo what happened,” I say. “But I can try to stop it from happening again.”
He crosses the room and wraps me in a hug.
“I know you’ll do your best.”
“Geez, can’t you two keep your hands off each other for five seconds?” Doe snarks as she walks into the kitchen.
“You’re one to talk,” I throw back. “You and Brody are practically glued at the hip every time I see you together.”
She shrugs as she pulls open the fridge. “That’s different. We’re cute.”
If I had something other than Quince within reach, I’d throw it at her.
She flashes me her I’m-so-cute-and-innocent smile before taking a sip of grape juice. “So what was all the stomping and grumbling?” she asks. “Did Lily scratch your motorcycle again?”
“Again?” Quince growls.
“Doe!” I might throw Quince at her after all. I step away from him. “Really, it wasn’t a scratch. More of a smudge. Um, dust. Really.”
For a second he looks angry, but then he just shakes it off. To Doe he says, “There was an offshore drilling accident last night. Looks like the merfolk are starting their revenge.”
Doe’s eyes widen, and she looks stunned into silence—a first. She turns to me. “What revenge? What is he talking about?”
I guess I haven’t seen her much since I got back. Like I said, she and Brody are inseparable, and I’ve been pretty busy.
After I give her the bullet points, she says, “Aurita’s a trip, for sure, but she wouldn’t lie about something like this.”
“I guess we’ve learned that lesson now,” I say.
“What are you going to do?” she asks.
I’m surprised that she sounds genuinely concerned. Except for her somewhat misguided attempt to make me keep my title for the sake of the kingdom, Doe doesn’t take much notice of royal affairs. And until recently—as in very recently—she would have applauded these efforts of revenge against humans. She hated all humans with a pretty violent passion, blaming them for her parents’ deaths. Now that she loves Brody and has been spending time with humans—him, Aunt Rachel, and Shannen—she’s definitely more human friendly.
“I’m going back to Desfleurelle tonight,” I reply. “To try to talk some sense into King Zostero.”
Doe nods, like she approves of my plan. Then she shocks the seaweed out of me by saying, “I’ll come with you.”
“What?” I shake my head. “No, you don’t need to do that.”
She flips her caramel-blond hair over her shoulder in a careless gesture. “I know. But I can and I want to.”
I exchange a look with Quince, and he shrugs. He’s always believed that there is a smart, caring, mature mergirl somewhere inside Doe—somewhere deep, deep inside. Maybe he thinks this is a sign that her maturity is surfacing.
Maybe it is.
“Okay,” I say. “Meet me in the parking lot after school. We’ll head straight to the beach.”
As if nothing major just happened, Doe sets her glass in the sink and flounces out of the kitchen, her knee-length skirt swinging with every bouncy step.
“What just happened?” I ask. “I mean, was that my cousin volunteering for something? Again?”
“Sure looked like it.” Quince smiles. “Want me to give you two a ride to the beach? I can borrow my mom’s car.”
“No,” I say, my mind still on Doe volunteering to join me. “I’ll take my car. Who knows when we’ll be getting back?”