He makes it sound so easy.
One little kiss.
Could I do it? Could I kiss Tel in to retain my title? It may seem simple, but I have a feeling it’s way more complicated than that. There’s bond magic and hurt feelings and jealousy and a whole ocean of other obstacles that make this a very bad idea.
Besides, what’s in it for Tel in?
“Why?” I ask. “Why would you want to do this? Sacrifice your future happiness with a mermate to bond with me, when you know I could never love you?”
“For the greater good,” he says, his spine straightening.
He looks every inch the prince, the king, even. My young friend is long gone. “You understand the demands of royal duty. The mer world needs progressive leaders who can take us into the future. Who can help our world become far more than we have been in the past.” His eyes soften. “You know I love your father as my own, but he is mired in the old ways. Thalassinia needs you and your experience on land and your commitment to the ocean environment. It is your duty to lead them.”
This is al so overwhelming—the idea that I might be able to retain my title, I might stil be able to accept my responsibility as Thalassinia’s queen, al while remaining true to Quince.
B u t would I be true to Quince? I’m sure he would understand the need for the single kiss—or at least he’d pretend to understand—but the bond is never that cut-and-dried. As he and I learned a few weeks ago, the bond plays with your emotions and your thoughts, magnifying whatever feelings already exist. Bonding with Tel in wouldn’t be as simple as kiss-and-move-on. We would be connected for life, for a century or more.
I can’t take the risk that this sham bond might eventual y come between me and Quince.
Looking into Tel in’s expectant gaze, I shake my head.
“I’m sorry.” If he had ever been in love, he would understand. “I just… can’t.”
“You mean you won’t.”
“Yes. Both.” I give him a sad smile. “We each deserve better than that kind of empty connection. And Thalassinia deserves better than me.”
The muscles in his neck tense, and he looks so wound up that I want to rest my hand against his cheek to tel him everything wil be okay. But who am I to know whether every-thing wil be okay? I’m just struggling to get through the day-to-day.
“I’m not giving up,” he final y says. “I have until next Tuesday at midnight to convince you of the merits of my proposal. You wil realize that fulfil ing your duty is the right choice, the honorable choice for the future of our kingdoms.
Don’t expect me to disappear.”
“You won’t change my mind.”
“Maybe not,” he says. “But I have to try.” I nod. We’re both being steadfast in what we have to do.
For half a second I wonder which of us is going to succeed in the end.
Then, with a nod, he stands.
“Tel Dosinia I said good night,” he says, and he turns and heads for the door. “I’l see you tomorrow.” It seems wrong to let him just walk away. He was one of my closest friends for many years, and he is in a strange town for the first time.
“Do you have somewhere to stay?” I ask.
He stops in the doorway. “No.”
My heart melts a little. He took a big risk coming here, with no plan except talking to me. And I just shot him down. I can’t send him out, alone, into the Seaview night. Not when there are sheets to spare and a sofa bed in the living room.
“I’m sure Aunt Rachel wil insist you stay with us.” I don’t know if I make the offer because he is my childhood friend or because, maybe, one tiny little part of me wants to give him every opportunity to succeed in convincing me to agree to his plan. Like Doe hoping I can help her get over her hate. It’s hard to toss aside a lifetime of duty. “The couch converts into a very comfortable bed.”
“I would be”—Tel in turns back to face me, a sober expression on his face—“very grateful.”
“Come on,” I say, trying to break the tension, “I’l show you where the linens are.”
As Tel in fol ows me to the hal closet, I can’t stop thinking about his what-if. And wondering whether the two of us, united, could turn it into reality.
“What do you mean, he’s staying with you?” Quince asks through the phone.
I wiggle my tail fin to send smal waves of salty suds up over my torso. “He doesn’t have anywhere else to go,” I explain. “He is one of my oldest friends. I can’t just throw him out into the street.”
Quince mumbles something that sounds like “I can.” I haven’t told Quince about Tel in’s proposal. I can just imagine the results. Quince would probably grab Tel in and throw him headfirst out the front door. At this point, it’s better that he not know. It’s not like it’s going to become an issue.
“You’re just mad because he ate al the cookies,” I tease.
“Aunt Rachel and I wil make a double batch tomorrow.” Knock, knock, knock, knock, kno—
“What?” I shout at the door. Instead of an answer, I see the door handle turn. “Dosinia!”
Who else would just barge in on my bath? Certainly not Tel in or Aunt Rachel.
Sure enough, her blond head leans in.
“Your aunt said you could show me how to communicate without a message bubble or messenger gul .” I sigh back against the porcelain.