“Oh, this is wonderful. I can’t wait to tell your father.”
“No! Do we have to tell anyone? I mean, it doesn’t matter if it’s the pull or not, right? We would still have to mate, even if it’s not.”
“But wait. If you feel the pull toward her, shouldn’t Nalia feel the pull toward you? Isn’t that how it works?”
Triton’s trident, what a stupid legend. “I’m sure she reciprocates, mother. But given our history, she might be stubborn enough to fight it.” Again, Nalia’s pulse jolts through his veins. He grits his teeth. “And that’s what I need your help with. I want to charm her. Win her over.”
Grom swears he hears pity in the Triton queen’s chuckle. “Oh, my dear boy. Who could resist your charms? I’m sure you’ll have no trouble at all stealing her heart. You don’t need my help. The little princess has no idea what’s coming for her.” With that, his mother flits out of the cave in a wave of feminine innocence. And Grom is sure he’s just been had.
He follows Nalia’s pulse to the shallow waters off the coast of the Old World, in Triton territory. What is she doing in the Human Pass? Is she brainless?
The Human Pass is just that—a stretch of barren waters where the humans pass through in their underwater death ships. As best as Grom can figure, these humans think this is their territory, and they do their best to patrol it regularly. It’s a dangerous place for any Syrena, and a careless place for a Poseidon Royal.
Which is why he’s not really surprised to have found her here. In the weeks since their confrontation in the Cave of Memories, he’s found her in all sorts of unpredictable places. Unpredictable seems to be her specialty.
As he nears her pulse, he senses another one—the female Tracker he first met at the entrance of the Ceremony Chamber. Freya, Nalia’s accomplice in all things bad. He finds them both in Blended form on the bottom of the passage, their bodies mimicking and reflecting the color and texture of the rocky muck. Not bothering to Blend himself, he swims down to the barely discernible shapes. “Why are we hiding?” he says loudly.
Nalia materializes before him and rolls her eyes. “What are you doing here?” she hisses.
Grom crosses his arms. “I’m here to rescue you. I was very alarmed to find my future mate in dangerous waters. I’ve come to help.”
She Blends again and huffs. “You can help by Blending, and shutting your mouth.”
“What are you doing?” he asks, exasperated.
“I don’t answer to you.” Grom is left imagining just what kind of superior expression she has on that lovely face. “No, but she does.” He raises a brow at the transparent silhouette next to Nalia.
Freya materializes. “We’re waiting for one of the long boats to pass so we can ride it.”
“Freya!” Nalia hisses.
“What?” Freya says, her voice full of whine. “I have to answer him. He’s a Triton Royal.”
Nalia appears again and scowls up at Grom. “Look, if you’re not going away anytime soon, then would you please just Blend so you don’t blow our cover?”
“You’re both out of your minds. Don’t you know how dangerous—”
“Shhh! They can pick up sounds down here somehow. They’ll come and investigate,” Nalia whispers.
Grom doesn’t even want to know how she knows this. He Blends and crouches down next to her, tucking his fin under him. “So this is your plan? To get yourself killed so you don’t have to mate with me?” He’s glad she can’t see the dejection he knows is all over his face.
She scoffs. “Not everything is about you. If you must know, we come here all the time. And since you’re here, I was going to invite you to come with us, but if you’re too scared—”
“I’m not,” he says, though he’s not sure he believes it. Hitching a ride on any human boat is dangerous, but hitching a ride on a human death ship is downright madness. Their sole purpose, as far as he can tell, is to pick fights with other human death ships, which makes them all moving targets. But, begrudgingly, he admits he’s a little thrilled that she thought to invite him this time. He’d love to reject the invitation, but if he does, it will look like as if he’s afraid, instead of like he’s just plain rejecting her.
Nalia seems pleased. “Good. One should be along soon. Here, take this. You’ll need it to hold on.” She hands him a chopped-off tentacle of what used to be a very large squid; the suckers are as big as his face. He wants to believe it was dead before she found it. But he doesn’t.
He swallows, turning the tentacle over in his hands. “You’re not serious.”
“Change your mind?” she coos. Freya giggles.
Grom swallows. “No.”