I hover in the shadows of a clump of rocks, one hand pressed to my aching side. We stopped once today for about ten minutes to bolt down some food. Other than that, we’ve been swimming nonstop since we left Aquaticus this morning. Already self-conscious about being the slowest swimmer due to my lack of a tail, I was terrified my injury would cause me to delay the group even further. To my surprise and pleasure, Conway spent the entire day swimming at the back with me. Sometimes we talked—him telling me about his childhood in the palace, me regaling him with stories of life in the reef—and sometimes we just swam in comfortable silence.

Does Conway want more than friendship? For the first time since I turned twenty and intentionally buried all my dreams of love, a tiny shoot of hope unfurls inside me. I have always been resistant to the idea of romance for fear of bringing a child into the world who will suffer in the same way I have my entire life. But Avonlea has taken the curse for this generation of our family. And, with Conway’s Crura genes, even if I gave birth to a child with legs, their life would be completely different from mine. Conway would be king. Under his reign, things will almost certainly change for the better for the Crura of Undula.

I like Conway. He definitely has some growing up to do, but his wry humor and snarky irreverence light up every room he enters. And—my heart squirms guiltily at the selfish thought—he understands me. He knows what it is like to be different. To be defined by something you cannot control.

Unbidden, the thought flashes that he is not really my type. In my mind’s eye, I see a golden figure with scales that glow like fire and hair the color of sunlight rippling behind him in the water.

I shake my head. I am being completely ridiculous. Number one, the crown prince of Undula is almost certainly not interested in a poor dugong shepherdess. Or—bile rises in my throat at the thought—he is interested in something I have no interest in giving him without a ring on my finger. Number two, the only golden-haired Merman I know views me as his little sister. And you don’t fall in love with your little sister.

“Moonstone for your thoughts,” a voice says behind me, and I jump.

“How about you keep your moonstones and I keep my thoughts?” I say.

“Fine.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Conway lean against the rock wall next to us, surveying me. “What is the dolphin-whisperer doing, skulking off here by herself?”

I smile slightly at his name choice, glance around to make sure no one else is within earshot. “The swimming didn’t agree with the hole in my side.”

He blows out his breath in an exasperated stream of bubbles. “Why under the sea didn’t you tell us to stop so you could rest?”

It’s my turn to blow out a stream of bubbles as I snort derisively. “And have everyone in the group despise me more than they already do? No, thank you.”

“No one despises you,” he says. I give him a look. “All right, fine. No one who matters despises you.”

“By that definition, you and Darin are apparently the only ones who matter,” I say, the corners of my mouth twitching.

“Ginny doesn’t despise you.” He raises his eyebrows at my expression. “What? She’s jealous of and threatened by you. That’s not the same thing.”

“Jealous? Of me?” I splutter, glancing involuntarily toward the group around the lava hole Darin discovered.

Ginevra leans on her spear, talking to Darin, her pearly scales shimmering iridescently in the dark water. With Darin’s golden scales reflecting the lava’s rosy glow, they are an eye-catching pair. The sun and the moon. The two most beautiful people I have ever seen. For some reason, the thought causes an unpleasant, prickling heat within.

Conway rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, Locklyn. You actually caused her to bleed in a fight. You have a lovely voice, and she can’t sing a note. You’re surrounded by the mystic of being Llyra’s great-great-granddaughter who knows where her lost treasure is. And you’re beautiful.”

I look at him sharply.

Something shifts in the depths of his dark eyes, and he slides closer. “What?” he says softly. “You are.”

“Prince Conway!” Both of us spin to see Ginevra hovering a few lengths away, staring at the pair of us. I fight to keep my expression cool and nonchalant. Conway stares daggers at Ginevra, whose face looks carved from stone. “Darin wants to discuss his plans with us and,” she pauses for the barest fraction of a second, “the girl who knows the way to the treasure.”

She makes me sound like a map with legs. I bite my lips to keep from asking her what her problem is. Then I follow Conway to where Darin hovers on the edge of the main group.

As we approach, he drifts toward us, widening the space between us and the others before speaking. “I wanted to discuss our course with all of you,” he says when we are out of earshot. “With the timeline we are on, there is no room for error. We will not have time for any redos.” He takes a deep breath. “Our first stop is at the home of Lief Orwell to learn the location of Llyra’s Lost Treasure.”

Ginevra stiffens. When she speaks, her voice is icy. “I was under the impression the whole reason for this quest was because you already knew that.”

Darin’s eyes are hard as granite. “Actually, the reason for this quest is that you had a knife between my sister-in-law’s ribs. I said what I had to say.”

Sister-in-law. Why does that sting?

For a long moment, Ginevra and Darin stare at each other. Conway catches my eye and mouths, “Awkward,” causing me to swallow a nervous giggle.

Finally, Ginevra nods curtly, breaking the tension. “How long will it take us to reach Orwell?”

For a fraction of a second, Darin’s eyes graze mine. Then they flit back to Ginevra as he says, “Moving at this speed, it will take us eight days.”

Ginevra’s mouth twists in a slight smirk, and I realize, with a sinking in my gut, she did not miss the look Darin cast me. She knows I am the reason we are moving at this speed. “We weren’t moving particularly quickly today,” she says smoothly. “I’m sure we could all pick up the pace and shave off a day or two.”

There is a strained pause before Darin speaks. “Once you hear what I have to say, I’m not sure you’ll be in any hurry. Orwell lives in the heart of the Rayan Mountains. There are only two ways to reach him. One is by swimming over the mountains, which will add a day and a half to our travel time. The other is through a pass that is guarded by an Anakite crab and a giant stonefish.”

Conway snorts. “Where exactly did you get this information, Aalto? Anakite crabs are the stuff of legend. Most thinking people don’t believe that they exist.”

I notice the muscles around Darin’s mouth tighten and twist my fingers together behind my back, terrified he is going to say something that will make Conway call the guards to drag Darin off to Aquaticus in chains.

After a slight pause, Darin says mildly, “My apologies. As a ‘thank you’ to His Highness for setting me straight, may I suggest he leads us through the passage? Since an Anakite crab will most certainly not come down from the crags and carve him into ribbons, it seems only fitting.”

Laughter bubbles up inside me, but at the sight of Conway’s expression, I hastily choke it down. Ginevra smirks, clearly delighted at Conway’s fury. Conway opens his mouth, but Darin forestalls him.

“Given the fact that we need to be back at the gates of Aquaticus in thirty days or an army of Nebulae will attack,” he inclines his head slightly to Ginevra, who offers him a tight-lipped smile in return, “I think we must attempt the tunnel, since swimming over the mountains will add between two and three days to our travel time. I have an idea for getting through that I wanted to run by all of you. Like most predators, Anakite crabs react strongly to the smell of blood. I was thinking if we sacrificed two of the dolphins . . .”

“What?” Conway snaps. “You have no right to lay a finger on the royal dolphins. And besides,” he folds his arms and raises his eyebrows at Darin, “Kai would kill you if you tried.”

Darin closes his eyes, and I am certain he is beseeching the Wave Master for patience. “Would you rather I carved my initials on your forearms and sent you instead?”

Clearly, any prayers for patience he may have uttered did not work.

Conway’s face tightens. Then he gives Darin a broad smile. Before I realize what he is doing, his fingers interlace with mine, sending a current of warmth up my arm. Turning, I gape at him, but he isn’t looking at me. He is staring into Darin’s golden eyes with a faint smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “Go on, Aalto,” he says. “I’m dying to hear more about this plan of yours.”

Darin’s face is oddly blank. There is a moment of silence, and then as though nothing happened, he says, “If the palace dolphins are off-limits, we will need to catch creatures to use as bait. And that will take time.”

“I . . .” My voice comes out as a croak. I clear my throat and wriggle my fingers out of Conway’s as three faces turn toward me. Conway’s black eyes dance, which sends electricity tingling to the tips of my fingers. “I could help with that,” I finally say.

Darin’s eyes flash with comprehension. “Of course.”

Conway looks nonplussed.

Ginevra, who is staring off into the murky water, gives no sign she heard me.

“I don’t understand,” Conway says.

Darin smiles at me, and for an instant, my heart ceases the frantic pounding Conway’s touch elicited and swells with a glowing, golden warmth. “Show them,” he says.

I begin to hum. I’m not even sure where the melody comes from—somewhere deep inside—a wandering, lilting cadence that reminds me of raindrops striking the gray surface of the ocean. The thought flashes through my mind that I haven’t been to The Surface in a long time.

The melody changes, becoming more consistent, a pattern of warmth and welcome, a beckoning stream of music. I open my mouth and sing, words filling my mind in the same way the tune fills my soul.

The chittering reaches me before I see the dolphin. Her sleek gray body carves through the water as she swims toward us. Even Ginevra’s eyes are wide with wonder as she watches the dolphin approach, squeaking joyfully and twining her sleek body around me, butting my hands with her nose in a desperate appeal for petting.

I smooth my fingers over her snout, my heart sinking at the reality of what I’ve just done. “We have to kill her, don’t we?” For an instant, a look I don’t understand crosses Darin’s face as he watches me.

“It doesn’t have to be her,” he says, and pity fills those golden eyes now. “But if we want to stay alive, we need to wound another living creature and send it into that tunnel ahead of us. My plan is to wound a dolphin or two and send it into the pass, hoping the scent of blood will attract a few sharks as well. If everything goes according to plan, Nimrod will jump down and attack the sharks and dolphins. His body would form a barrier, not allowing the rockfish to rise past him. Once he’s distracted, we could swim through the passage over his head. It would be an added bonus if the rockfish impaled his underbelly and finished him off for us.”

A long silence follows. I caress the dolphin’s nose, heart aching at the thought of sending several of these innocent creatures to their deaths. But beneath the ache flows a rippling current of fear. There are a lot of ifs in Darin’s plan.

“I know there are holes in my plan,” Darin says. “But I don’t know what else we can do. That was all I had to say. As I’m sure you can all see, there doesn’t seem to be much point in exploring other scenarios until we find out whether or not we’re going to survive this one.”

“Or we could turn around,” I find myself saying. All eyes snap to me. “Is any treasure worth dying for? Your Highness,” I look at Ginevra and shrivel inwardly at the hostility contorting her face, “why not call it off? If you die along with us, no treasure, real or imagined, will be any good to you. Or,” I add, as her expression remains unmoving, “at the very least, give us more time to come up with better alternatives.”

For the barest fraction of a second, I think I see a flicker in her eyes. But it vanishes so quickly, I am sure I imagined it. “I think not.” She turns, fading into the dark water.

“What a sweetheart,” Conway says. He turns to me, and I feel heat rising in my face. “I saw a bunch of periwinkles on the other side of that big pile of rocks where the dolphins are tethered. Fancy a snack before bed? The rations aren’t exactly overwhelming.”

I glance sideways at Darin, but he isn’t looking at me. The distance between us cuts at me—the lack of our familiar, easy comradeship leaves a gaping hole in my heart.

I have to fix this. And I’m not entirely sure whether I want to be alone with Conway right now anyway.

“No, thanks,” I say lightly. “That dried posidonia we had for lunch didn’t really agree with me. I don’t think I should risk putting anything else in my stomach right now.”

Conway glances between Darin and me, his eyes narrowing. There is an awkward pause as we hang suspended in a circle, all waiting for someone else to make a move. I can feel Conway’s eyes on me, but stare resolutely down into the sand, trying to ignore the patches of heat that still seem to linger directly below my eyes. Finally, I look up. His eyes are full of warmth, and I suddenly wish he wasn’t wearing his tail.

“Good night,” he says softly.

“Good night,” I reply, my voice cracking a little.

He turns and disappears into the dark water, toward the magma hole where the rest of the group huddles. I glance up through my lashes at Darin, but he is still looking resolutely away, and the words I want to say die on my tongue at the coldness he seems to emanate.

I have to say something. We can’t go on like this.

“Darin?” My timid word comes out as a question.

“Locklyn,” he says, facing me at last. The expression in his gaze makes my heart ache. He looks vulnerable, broken. Impulsively, I reach out, and as his calloused fingers close over mine, he drops his head.

“You’re really worried, aren’t you?”

Head still bent, he gives a wry chuckle. “Man-eating crabs, giant stonefish, impossible deadlines, Ginevra and Conway at each other’s throats—what’s to be worried about?”

I squeeze his fingers. “At least, there hasn’t been any bloodshed yet.” He breathes out another laugh and squeezes back. Silence stretches between us again, but it is more like the silences I remember—comfortable silence that comes from feeling so at ease with a person. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry,” I say at length.

His golden eyes are quizzical. “What for?”

“I shouldn’t have said you try to control everything. Because you don’t. And it’s not your fault you’re a natural leader, or that the people around you look to you for solutions to their problems. I think maybe you’ve just gotten so used to problem-solving, you can’t help trying to fix everything.” I can’t read the expression on his face.

“It’s funny that you say that. I was planning to take the first opportunity of seeing you alone to tell you that you were right. I do try to control things. I think it makes me feel less afraid.”

I gape at him. “Afraid? You?”

“Every day of my life,” he says, looking away again.

“Of what?”

“Of losing the people I love. Of seeing hurt and being powerless to stop it. Of not being as strong and capable and self-sufficient as everyone thinks I am.”

I grip his hand, not wanting to say something cliché, touched by his openness.

“So, I’m sorry,” he says, “for trying to control your life.”

“You’re in no danger of losing me,” I say, trying to spark a smile. “I think you should be more afraid of never getting rid of me.”

For some reason, his golden eyes become shuttered, and he eases his hand away from mine. “You should get to bed. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Stung, I try to laugh it off. “Schatzi always stay up to all hours, Aalto.”

“Don’t call me that!” he snaps, and I can feel the connection we had moments before shattering. “You’re not one of my treasure-hunting buddies.”

“Darin—” I start, completely taken back.

“Just go to bed, Locklyn.”

“Will you stop telling me to go to bed?” I shoot back, my frustration rising. “If you’re so concerned about tomorrow, you should go to bed yourself.”

“I’m not the one who could barely keep up fully rested!”

It’s as though he slapped me across the face. I reel back, feeling the hot prickle of tears in my eyes.

His eyes fill with horror, and he reaches toward me, remorse twisting his face. “Locklyn, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”

I start to swim away, but he darts forward and catches hold of me. “Let go of me, Darin.”

“Locklyn, please,” he pleads. “That sounded terrible. I didn’t mean it like that at all. I just know it’s harder for you without a—”

“Let go!” I snap, and his hand drops off my arm as though shocked by an electric current. Water churns around me as I swim away as fast as I can, tears pouring down my face.

Why doesn’t he just say he thinks I’m weak?

Poor little Locklyn. She can’t even keep up.

Anger and heartache pound as I swim blindly. My thoughts swirl. As I remember Conway’s hand grasping mine, realization floods me and my fury spikes higher.

He was just using me to get to Darin.

Conway knew it would infuriate him to see someone holding hands with the person who is basically his little sister.

Especially if that someone was a person Darin couldn’t stand.

I veer toward the rocks where Conway said the periwinkles were, prepared to give him a piece of my mind. But just as I am about to round the corner, I stop.

Right now might not be a great time to yell at Conway. Someone else beat me to it.