Just as I predicted, my room of shells has been moved to a larger space, my mother’s blackened shell still within the swirling pattern. There’s a new blackened shell, too. The one that represents my abduction. I count the shells between that and the larger, bright white conch shell that celebrates my return to see how long I was gone. Finn spoke in hours, weeks, and months, but I never learned those measurements of time. This is my calendar, and there are one hundred and two shells between the abduction and the return.
One hundred and two days in that gray tank with the threat of “Corporate” hanging over my head. One hundred and two days as a prisoner instead of a princess.
My nails bite into my palms, still sore from the electroshocker burns. Clair’s been there for double that time. I hope she’s still alive. She was gone one hundred and thirty days before I was captured. It took them less than one hundred and two days to break me—no wonder they broke her before I arrived.
I remind myself again that Finn promised he’d get her out. And Huron. And Niku. My chest constricts at the thought of Niku, and it’s almost as if I can hear his voice saying, “Princess.”
“Erie.”
That was Niku’s voice. I spin.
He floats just inside the doorway, and I launch myself at him, spinning him upside-down before squeezing him so tight, I’m worried my tail will snap in half. Foam streams from my eyes as I bury my face in his familiar scars, then kiss him on the nose.
“Neek.” The name is a strangled sound in my throat.
“Erie.” He says it with force, but so low that no one else will hear. My name, just for me, because I forgot it for so long. “Princess,” he says, louder, the echo of it etching into my scales. I am Erie, not Iodine. I’m a princess, and I belong here, in this castle under the sea.
“Finn’s dying.”
The words snap me out of my joyful reverie. “What? How? How do you know?”
“He fell off the boat, and Clair attacked him. I stopped her, but . . .” Neek looks at the shells on the floor. “He’s not going to make it back to land. I brought him here, instead.”
“Here?” My heart lurches in my chest. “He’s in the Seadom?”
“Just a short swim away.”
“Take me.” I turn and swim out the door—
Right into a merman.
He grabs my arms to steady me, then releases me with a gasp, as if I’ve burned him. “Princess, forgive me.” He bows so deep, the only thing I can see is his inky-black hair floating around his ear-fins.
Black hair and ear-fins. For the Tides. All the breath rushes out of me at once, and he looks up, concern in his brown eyes.
“Finn?” It’s no more than a whisper of hope.
A shadow crosses his face. “Cale, my lady. You saved me from the boat.”
Of course it isn’t Finn—it can’t be Finn. Niku just said Finn is dying. This is the same merman that I pushed out of the way at the hunt. The one with the strange nose. I never realized before that it’s a landfolk nose. I reach my hand out to touch it before I remember myself and pull back, a warm flush covering my chest and cheeks. “Forgive me, I thought . . . never mind.”
“You thought I was your landfolk boy—the one who rescued you?”
It’s more a statement than a question, and the slight accent in his voice reminds me that Finn can’t speak the ocean. This merman may have the same hair and eyes, and even a landfolk nose, but he’s not my Finn. Niku nudges me hard. Finn’s dying. I need to get to him.
“I . . . yes. I can see now that you aren’t. I apologize.” I almost bow, so used to being a prisoner instead of a princess.
“I’m glad he returned you safe. Please, don’t let me keep you.” He bows again.
I follow Niku down the hall, turning once more to glance at the strange features of the advisor.
“It’s rude to stare,” Niku says.
“He has a landfolk nose,” I whisper.
“And you have landfolk hands,” Neek says.
I fold my hands into fists, so the burns and missing webbing aren’t noticeable. A nagging familiarity follows me through the halls; the sense that I’m forgetting something, something buried in my memory beneath layers of bubbles. When we get outside, I grab Niku’s dorsal fin; my tail is still healing and will only slow us down. Thoughts of the advisor’s disfigurement sloughs from my scales as we race through the water to get to Finn.
It’s a good thing sharks are wary of getting too close to the Seadom, because as soon as we clear the safety of the petrified forest, I can taste the blood in the water. Finn floats at the surface, breathing shallowly, and every time his chest expands with air, bubbles leak from his back, along with a thin, constant stream of blood. His back is torn, and when I say his name, it chokes out of me on a strangled breath.
“Finn.”
He moves to right himself, and groans. I wrap my tail around his legs, careful not to touch his back or squeeze too tight.
“Erie.” He rests his cheek on the top of my head as I press mine into his chest. “I’m sorry, sweetness. I’m not going to be able to free the rest.”
“Shh.” I press my face harder into his chest. “You’re going to be okay. Niku can get help.”
Finn shakes his head. “No time.” He pulls away to cough, and red foam floats away from us. I stare at it, heart burning with a desperate need to help him. There has to be something I can do.
“He can find a boat. Or . . . something. We’ll think of something.”
Finn wipes away the foam streaming from my eyes. “Just . . . take me back to the island. After. My dad disappeared in the ocean, and I want my mom to have a body to bury this time.”
A shiver runs through him, head to toe, over and over. He’s dying. It makes me think of one of the movies I watched—the one where the woman cried a tear and brought the monster back to life. I finally learned to cry, and I still can’t save Finn.
He cups my cheek and smiles sadly. “I’m so glad I met you, love. You transformed me—everything about me. I’m going to die a better person than I lived.”
I smile through the foam in my eyes. “I guess that story was true, after all,” I choke out. “Merfolk can transform landfolk.”
Finn chuckles and bows his head toward me, his hair shifting to reveal his ears.
His ears.
Just like the landfolk advisor.
His ears. His nose. His black hair—Merfolk don’t have black hair.
Or noses.
Or ears.
A broken memory bubbles up. Delmara, “Corporate,” ranting about something I didn’t understand—a man named Cale . . . who disappeared, who left her to find the Mer.
The advisor’s name was Cale.
By the Tides, it is true. I can transform Finn.
He grunts in pain, and I realize I’m squeezing him.
“Finn, it’s true!” Desperation pierces me again, a different kind of warmth blossoming in my chest. “I can transform you!”
He chuckles again. “Usually, the person dying is the one who suffers from delusions.”
I don’t know the word, but I understand the meaning. “No delusions. I met a landfolk transformation in the Seadom. He had a nose and ears.”
Niku interrupts, his voice completely stunned. “The advisor.”
I turn to him, all excitement. “Yes!”
“For the Tides,” Neek says. “I think you’re right.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Finn says.
“The advisor.” I grin, hope growing. “I thought he was deformed, but he looks like a human with scales. He is a human with scales! The stories are true—I can transform you!”
“Erie,” Finn says softly, as if I’m a child. “I’m drowning. There’s a hole in my lung.”
“Yes!” I sound a bit too excited about that, but I can’t help it. “That’s how it works. The stories say the human must drown first.”
“And then what?”
I glance at Niku, who shrugs. “Instinct?”
“Instinct?” Finn barks out a laugh, then groans in pain and coughs up more bloody foam. “You want me to trust that you can transform me on instinct?”
“You’re dying, anyway,” Niku points out. “At this rate, you’ll die from blood loss before you drown. And then, it probably won’t work.”
“It won’t.” I’m sure of it. Somehow, instinct has already taken over, and I know that if Finn bleeds to death, or dies in some way other than drowning, this won’t work. “We have to fill your lungs with water.”
He studies my face, takes a rattling breath, and coughs up more bloody foam. “You’re asking me to die even faster. Immediately. What if it doesn’t work?”
I grab his hand and place it over the scar on my chest, hoping he can feel the buzzing warmth that’s growing there. “Trust me. It will work. I know it will.”
At his unsure look, a bolt of fear goes through me, but Finn will die in my arms no matter what happens. Whether I can transform him or not.
“Please,” I whisper. “Let me save you this time.”
Tears run down his face to mix with the salt water. After an excruciatingly long time, he nods. “Okay.” His voice is hoarse, and shakes with his fear. Or pain. Or both. “I trust you.”
Every part of me fills with warmth at his words. I’m going to do this. I’m going to transform Finn into a merfolk.
“Okay,” I say, breathless. “You have to drown.”
“Erie.” He studies my face again, terror in his eyes, and for a moment, I don’t want to try this at all. “If this doesn’t work, take me back to the island, okay?”
I nod. “I promise.”
“Good.” He smiles, but his lip quivers, and his eyes flood with tears again. “You’ll have to hold me under. I’ll try to surface otherwise.” He runs his warm fingers down my face. “I love you, sweetness.”
“I love you, Finnegan Jarvis.”
He closes his eyes and presses his forehead to mine. Then he dips his head into the water and presses his lips against my own. I pull him down so he’s fully submerged and accept his breath for the last time. Even the air tastes like blood. I hope this works, and it’s not already too late.
With his first gasp of water, Finn jerks hard in my grasp. His eyes fly open, panicked, and his fingers dig into my arms. The pain brings me back to reality.
I’m killing Finn.
All those times I wanted to steal his air, and now, I finally have and . . . I can’t do this.
Bubbles burst from his mouth and nose, from the hole in his back. I unwind to push him to the surface, but Niku lunges forward and rips him from my grasp. He dives, dragging Finn with him while I scream.
By the time I reach them, there’s no more bubbles or blood. No more foam. No light in Finn’s eyes or life in his limbs, and I feel like the heat in my chest is going to rip me apart from the inside.
Now! Instinct screams through me. Do it now!
I press my lips to his again as warm water rushes from my mouth to his, filling any space inside him that still had air. When I pull away, Finn is pale, silent and still. All the heat that was inside of me turns to ice as I wait for something to happen. For it to work.
I press my hand to his chest, but Finn is cold. As cold as the tanks at Oceanica.
No.
It didn’t work. Finn floats in the current because I finally stole his air.
“No,” I whisper as foam streams from my eyes. “No, please.”
I kiss him one last time, and a final bubble pops from the hole in his back.