The moonlight glimmered on the waves. It was a cloudy night, wisps of gray covering the stars and fracturing the moonbeams. Such haunting dark shapes in the sky added to the ominous feel in the air. The Atlantic waves crashed against the shoreline. The surf was heavy. It left a froth of sea foam all along the shore.
Word had come from the Atlantic. Creon knew I had left the scene at The Drunken Mermaid with Hal. How, I didn’t know, but Creon knew I was in Cocoa Beach. He’d called up his suffocators to find me and deliver me to him that night. He would come to land and retrieve me himself. But Creon’s lack of emotion would be his undoing. He had not anticipated that his own people would stand against him. Empathy was an emotion Creon did not understand. He never would have guessed that Roald and the others had turned against him to protect the freshwaters against Manx’s imminent assault. So, when Creon had called up his suffocators to find the renegade princess who’d murdered the king of the Gulf and run off with her nagual lover, he couldn’t have guessed that some of those mermen would warn us.
It was Roald who learned the news. With shaking hands, he’d taken a phone call in the billiard hall that afternoon only to return looking ashen.
“Creon,” he’d said, looking at me with a startled expression on his face, “has called for your death. He is calling it regicide. He’s sent the suffocators for you and Hal.”
“Is there any news from the Gulfs?” I asked.
“They’ve gone to ground, back to the Gulf. They will not rise against you, Ink. They believe the prophecy.”
The scope of what was happening was starting to slowly congeal around me. If I could wrestle power from Creon, I could genuinely ally the Gulfs and Atlantics in the name of peace. And I could protect the freshwaters and the nagual.
“Ink,” Roald said with all seriousness. “We must defeat Creon.”
“Yes, but how?”
“We will fight,” Milne said. “With our dying breath.”
“What of the Atlantics?” I asked Roald. “Creon’s guards? The scouts? Will Seaton and the others turn against me?”
Roald shook his head. “I don’t know.”
I looked back at Milne. “We Atlantics should face Creon alone. I don’t want any of you to die because of my people.”
“We will die either way,” Imogen said. “But, we will die on our feet beside you.”
“If Creon wants the renegade mermaid and her nagual, let’s give him what he wants. Tell them you have us and arrange a meeting,” I told Roald.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
I cast a glance at Hal, who nodded.
“Let’s lure the bloody king out of the deep,” I said, my back tingling as waves of rage threatened to spill out of me.
Hours later, I stared at the waves rolling onto Cocoa Beach. From the other side of Florida, I could feel the Gulfs holding their breath as they waited for the outcome of this night. I hoped I survived long enough to make amends. All these years, I had blamed the Gulfs for my parents’ death. And all along, their real killer had slept in the same home as me.
It was Creon who rose out of the ocean first, his trident in hand, his long white hair lying wet on his chest. A warlike beast, he was an impressive specimen on land. He rose slowly, surprised to find all of us waiting to meet him on that dark stretch of beach. I saw his brow furrow. He’d expected to see Hal and me bound and gagged, waiting for his majesty’s judgment, not to see every aquatic shifter in Cocoa Beach on the beach. But Creon had told his suffocators to bring Hal and me there, and that is what they had done.
Roald and the other Atlantics stood around Hal and me. I looked up at him. Hal’s face was hidden in the shadow of the hood he’d pulled over his head, but I could feel the rage growing inside him. There was an intense strength in him that he could barely control. The air around him vibrated with fury.
Behind me, I heard Imogen take a sharp breath, but she did not move. I honored her bravery.
The mers of my tribe rose from the waters around Creon, a deadly-looking force, their weapons glimmering in the moonlight. They’d come prepared, transformed into human form, ready to drywalk. They were clothed in black and armed. Creon had brought at least three dozen mers, including my scouts. Among them, I saw Seaton, who rose from the water behind Creon. His face was stony.
“You have the traitor?” Creon called. I could see him eyeing the assembled group. Surely, Creon would realize that these men were not his allies. But then again, Creon was not one to be bothered with the lesser of our kind.
“We have,” Roald replied.
“And the nagual?”
“Yes,” Roald answered.
“Cut his throat,” Creon replied, motioning for two of his most loyal guards to step forward.
“No,” I said then.
“Murderous mermaid,” Creon spat, “how dare you speak?”
“Do you fear my words, Creon? Are you afraid the tribe will hear me speak the truth?”
“Silence!”
When the guards rushed Hal, he bolted forward to meet them, his bare feet moving quickly across the sand. Hal kicked one of the mers so hard he fell back into a crumpled heap. The other got a punch in, but Hal stopped him, slamming the merman onto the earth. Neither man got up, but they were still alive.
“Enough,” Creon yelled, then strode onto the beach, brandishing his trident before him. “What is this incompetence? Someone grab the nagual.”
“No,” I said again.
“You were always a willful one, weren’t you? King killer,” Creon roared, “you and your nagual lover must pay for this regicide. King Manx is dead because of you, mermaid. You assembled naguals, you brine-water mers, step aside so we may deal with this treacherous lot. Advance, Atlantics, and take them,” Creon called, motioning to the army behind him.
I stepped down the beach toward them and looked at my people, making eye contact with Seaton and the others. “Lay down your arms, my brothers and sisters,” I called. “The real killer stands before you here. Creon, son of Hytten, I charge you with the murders of Dauphin, Coral, and King Manx. Creon has lied to us for years. He killed my parents. It was he who ordered the death of Manx, planning to place the blame for his—and my own—murder on the renegade suffocators whom you see standing around me. But it was Creon’s people who did the killing. These brothers and sisters standing here with me left Creon’s rule when he and Manx ordered the genocide of the remaining freshwaters and naguals. I was supposed to die alongside Manx. But I lived and learned the truth. Search your hearts. You know me. Would I murder the king of the Gulfs? How many of you have doubted the story of my parents’ death? Atlantics lay down your arms.”
“Usurper! Liar,” Creon shouted, but his face betrayed him. He was found out. At long last, his treachery was unveiled. The muscles around his eyes twitched.
Seaton tossed his blades on the beach. Achates and the other scouts followed suit behind him. Moments later, my brethren, the Atlantic mers, laid their blades down and bowed their heads to me.
“You will stand trial for your crimes,” I told Creon. “After you’ve had a little time to think over your rash behavior in the shallows.”
“Never,” Creon said, then moved quickly toward me. With a hurl, he threw his trident at me.
“Ink,” Roald yelled.
Hal, however, moved fast, putting himself between the trident and me.
I had no time to think. I let out a shrill so loud that it knocked the mers behind me to their knees. I shrieked, the sound waves moving around Hal, then toward the trident and the king. I could see the sound rippling through the air. In the distance, glass shattered, and I heard a car alarm whine. The mers standing on the beach behind Creon covered their sensitive ears with their hands. They went down on their knees into the surf. Between Hal and the king, the trident stopped midair and then burst into a thousand pieces, which flew backward, piercing Creon like a thousand tiny daggers.
The king of the Atlantic screamed in agony as a large piece of his trident slammed into his chest. He clutched it, then fell backward onto the beach.
A second later, the song dissipated, leaving only a bonging echo. I rushed to Hal, who had fallen after the siren song.
“Hal,” I gasped, falling on my knees beside him, “are you hurt?”
He grinned at me. “My ears are ringing, but I’m alive.”
I held him, my body shaking, then gazed at Creon. Blood oozed from the massive piece of metal lodged into his chest. Streaks of blood marred the sand and water around him.
Taking a deep breath, I helped Hal stand, then turned and faced the Atlantics.
“Is everyone all right? Is anyone hurt?” I called to them.
At first, no one spoke. They stood looking in awe. Then, Seaton stepped forward.
“Hail Queen Ink,” Seaton called then, “the Siren Queen.”
“Hail the Siren Queen,” the Atlantics chimed after him, kneeling in the water tinged with Creon’s blood.
“Hail the Siren Queen,” Imogen called, bowing. The other freshwater mers joined her.
“Hail,” Hal said, then bowed, the naguals joining him.
For a moment, I stood motionless. The turn of events seemed so strange, so unbelievable.
“All of you, please rise. My friends, we have important work that must be done.”
“What work is that, my Queen?” Seaton called to me. I couldn’t help but notice the proud expression on his face.
I looked back at Hal, who was smiling at me. Waves of love emanated from him.
“True peace.”