I haven’t seen Finn in two days, though Jen promises he’s getting better, and I can’t help but worry about him. Who cares about movies and breakfast when my one chance out of here might be dying, and I can’t save him? I need to see Finn for myself, to know that he’s okay.
It would be better if Niku would speak to me. He grunted in acknowledgment when I told him the landfolk wouldn’t kill us, but he hasn’t said a word. At first, I was content with the silence, but now I’m lonely, and terrified, and want nothing more than to wrap around his dorsal fin and trace his scars. I trace my own instead, wincing as my nail drags across the scab covering my neck.
“You shouldn’t do that,” Niku says.
I spin to face him, surprised. “What?”
“Pick at your scab. You’ll make it worse.”
My hand falls to my side. “What do you care? You’re trying to get us killed. The scar won’t last long against the foam.”
Niku shakes his head. “I’m not trying to get us killed, but whatever game you’re playing with that landfolk boy won’t work.”
“Finn is our only chance to get out of here. We don’t have a choice—we have to trust him when he says he’ll free us.”
“Free you.”
“Yeah, well, maybe if you hadn’t tried to kill him—”
“Like he tried to kill you?”
An annoyed huff escapes me as I touch the scab again. Finn didn’t try to kill me—his reaction proved that. The expression on his face was pure horror when he saw the foam.
Arguing with Niku won’t help, so I turn my back on him and stare at the Ariel figurine amidst the necklaces in my own tank. I’ve had two days to figure out what I need to do if Finn survives. I need to make him fall in love with me. If he loves me, he’ll do whatever it takes to get me out of here.
I have no idea how to get a landfolk to love me, though. I wouldn’t even know how to get a merfolk to love me. Huron and I had fun, but we were never in love. The only one who loves me is Grandmother . . . and Niku, before I made him release Finn.
The water shifts around me, but I don’t turn until Niku says my name. He’s almost next to me, close enough to touch, and I squeeze my hands together in front of my stomach to resist the urge to do just that. “What?”
“Even though you’re stupid and reckless . . . and wrong, I’ll do my best not to hurt your landfolk boyfriend.” Niku scowls. “Unless he hurts you again—then, I’ll kill him.”
I consider him for a moment, trying to decide if he’s telling the truth, or if it’s an empty lie so I’ll let my guard down. There’s no way I’ll tell Niku my plan, not now. All he’ll do is argue. “You mean it? You won’t try to kill Finn again?”
“I promise, Princess. I’ll play nice if he does.”
I put my hand on his side and run my thumb over one of his scars. “Good. Then it’s time for you to learn how to speak the air.”
By the time Jen arrives, Niku can say “good morning,” “please,” “time for breakfast,” and “fuck that” in air words. I’m pleased that he’s trying, even if the landfolk can’t hear him unless they’re in the water.
“Morning, Erie, Niku,” Jen says as she opens the door.
“Morning, Jen.” I raise an eyebrow at Niku until he says it, too.
“I have a surprise for you,” Jen says, still holding the door open.
Two long, crab-like legs appear, then something big swings between them. It takes me a moment to realize what I’m looking at. “Finn!” Relief rushes through me from head to tail as he makes his way into the room. I do a backflip and press my palms into the glass.
A grin covers his face from ear-fin to ear-fin. “Hey, beautiful.”
“What did he say?” Niku asks.
“‘Hey’ means hello, and ‘beautiful’ is a nickname, like sweetness.”
Finn does a weird crab-walk to the tank and puts his hands over mine, but he’s shorter than normal. His new legs have made him shorter, hunched over. “I missed you,” he says, and the sadness in his voice gives away the truth of his words. He really has missed me.
My heart constricts so hard in my chest I almost gasp. No one—not even Huron—has ever sounded so sincere. This may be easier than I thought. “I missed you,” I say, voice tight. “Niku promised not to hurt you, so I teach him air words. ‘English.’”
Finn’s face softens. “Is that right?” He wipes his thumb over the glass, and I wish he was in the water with me. Swimming together made him promise to free me, and if that’s what it takes, then I need to get him back in the water.
“Are you okay?” I ask, to make sure there’s no lasting damage from Niku’s attack.
“I’m fine. Nothing a few days of antibiotics and rest couldn’t fix. Tell Niku he’ll have to try harder than that to get rid of me.”
That’s one thing I definitely won’t translate.
“Listen, sweetness.” Finn drops his hands to rest on his crab-legs. “I did a lot of thinking while I was gone, and the only way we’ll get you out of here is to make the public fall in love with you. There are tons of ‘save the whales’ bleeding hearts out there who’d be happy to jump on the bandwagon, but we need everyone else to see you as something more than a fish. Otherwise, no one will help. So, it’s time to get you in front of an audience.”
I frown, because I don’t know what “public,” or “bleeding hearts,” or “bandwagon” is, and I don’t need to make all the landfolk love me, just Finn. “What that mean?”
“That means, we need to get you performing.”
Performing? My fins droop. The last thing I want to do is a bunch of tricks for the landfolk. Niku nudges me to translate, and when I do, his glower deepens. “I told you,” he mumbles.
I turn back to Finn. “We don’t want to perform.”
Finn puts one of his hands back on the glass. “I know, but this is the only way we can free you. We need everyone to fall in love with you. It’s time to come up with a routine—one where you aren’t just another silent, dead-eyed Mer—we need to make you a household name, like Shamu.”
Jen shakes her head. “For all the good it did Shamu.”
The expression Finn turns on her is so lost that I wish I could pull him through the glass to swim with me. “It’s the only choice we have. We need to make America love Erie just as much as we do.”
The breath catches in my throat—Finn loves me? If that’s true, then his plan really is a way to free us, not just a way to get us to perform. I need to swim with him again. To wrap my tail around him and hear him say the words in the water, where I can feel them vibrate in my scales.
I put my hand over his on the glass. “Can we swim?”
He smiles. “As soon as my ankle’s better, sweet. Then we can swim as often as you want.”