Surely, if the right way fails, the two kings will not watch Nalia be imprisoned.
Grom would not suffer all those years only to lose her to the Ice Caverns. But going against the decision of the tribunal would be … Galen doesn’t want to think of the consequences of that right now. Too much is at stake, not only for Grom and Nalia, but for Galen and Emma as well. If the Archives won’t allow Grom and Nalia to unite, the possibility of Galen and Emma ever mating under Syrena tradition is all but obliterated.
The tribunal has to return a positive solution. It just has to.
And if it doesn’t? Galen can’t fathom what Jagen could possibly hope to gain if the Royals were displaced. The kingdoms? Hardly. The Syrena version of a kingdom differs greatly from the human version. When humans say the word “kingdom,” they mean palaces, mansions, wealth, people. When Syrena say the word “kingdom,” they mean endless strips of ocean. Fish. Reefs. Caverns. The Syrena do not need gold or jewels or paper money for their wealth. The only wealth the Syrena boast of are one another. They trade services sometimes, but mostly they help one another in times of need. They take care of their elderly and young ones.
So then, the only benefit of controlling the kingdoms is to change their way of life. But what would he possibly change?
Galen nods at Nalia, who has apparently been watching him think things through. He wonders what she saw in his expression. “I’ve got to get back now,” he says. She shrugs.
Get back to what? he thinks to himself as he leaves her chamber. He’s already roamed through the tunnels of the Cave of Memories twice, and each time he’s found himself back at the ruins of Tartessos, at the wall where he first figured out that Emma was a Half-Breed. The wall where he’s unable to take his eyes off the picture of the Half-Breed girl whose curves remind him of Emma.
Instead of returning there to torture himself, Galen decides to seek out Toraf. His friend has still not pulled himself from his gloomy trance, so at the very least, they could be miserable together. Toraf is close enough to sense, but Galen hesitates. Paca is near as well, and in the same direction he’d need to go to reach Toraf. He’s not particularly in the mood for a run-in with the fraud queen.
Still, he has an almost-urgent need to mull things over with Toraf. To miss Emma and Rayna with Toraf. Simmer with Toraf in mutual lovesick misery and anxiety and insecurity.
So when he gets within earshot, he’s not expecting to hear Toraf and Paca laughing. Together. Not just a polite laugh, either. They are enjoying, genuinely enjoying, a moment together. A private moment.
A private genuine moment that makes Galen ball his fists. What is he doing?
They stop laughing when he reaches them. “I hope I’m not interrupting something,” Galen says sourly.
“Of course you’re interrupting,” Toraf says, slapping him on the back. “It’s what you do best, Highness.”
Paca giggles. Galen has never seen her like this. Almost at ease, completely natural, instead of uptight like she always is around her father. Completely natural—except for the fact that she still claims to possess the Gift of Poseidon.
“Toraf was just reenacting his recent run-in with a fleet of stingrays. I never realized how entertaining your friend is, Galen.” Paca touches Toraf’s shoulder in a way that makes Galen think this is not the first conversation that has passed between these two.
“I’d have to agree,” Galen says curtly. “He’s full of entertaining surprises.”
Paca sighs, apparently reminded of the situation at hand. That she’s a fraud, that the Royals are on to her, and that they intend to extricate her from the Triton king and her claim to the throne. “I’m afraid I have to leave now. My father is expecting me.” Without further explanation, she swirls away.
Galen waits until she’s out of sight before turning on Toraf. “What was that about? Were you actually flirting with Paca?”
Toraf shrugs. “I’m just trying to make the best of the situation, minnow.”
“What could you two possibly have to say to each other?”
“You’d be surprised.” Toraf starts to swim away, but Galen catches his shoulder.
“Enlighten me, tadpole. If anyone needs an entertaining distraction, it’s me.”
They lock eyes with each other. Toraf is definitely hiding something. He’s hiding something and he knows that Galen knows he’s hiding something. “I’m sure I’ve already told you about the stingray incident, Galen.”
“Toraf.”
But his friend shrugs off Galen’s hand. “I don’t have time for a retelling, Galen. I’m meeting with King Antonis soon and I can’t be late.”
“Why are you meeting with Antonis?”
“He wants to hear the stingray story, too.” Toraf is not a good liar, even when he tries. But right now, Galen can tell he’s not even trying. Either he doesn’t care that Galen knows he’s lying, or he’s trying to tell him something with the lie.
Either way, Galen can’t figure it out.
“Then maybe I could come and listen to the story.” This feels weird, to say things between words with Toraf, his best friend since they were fingerlings learning how to swim straight.
Toraf starts to pull away again. “Sorry, Highness, but His Majesty requested a private meeting.”
He never calls me Highness in private. He knows I hate it. Why is he going out of his way to irritate me? Does he sense we’re being monitored? Or is this a new Toraf, formal and rigid? Galen watches until his tail disappears into a cloud of krill passing through. And he decides that he doesn’t like a formal, rigid Toraf.