“You can’t—”

“Can’t I?” I reply, before Astria can finish her sentence.

“You won’t,” Venus says weakly.

“Won’t,” Piper whispers. Then she turns to her friends. “My dad would kill me if I got expelled from the palace.”

Astria tilts her head slightly to the side, pursing her lips as she studies me. Like she’s weighing the options of her response.

To my surprise, her better judgment wins out.

“Of course, Princess,” she says, bowing her head in slightly less mocking respect than usual.

Her mirror images do the same, muttering quietly, “Yes, Princess.”

I bite back a smile.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” I say, tugging Peri’s hand and swimming around the three mergirls I used to be afraid of, “we have a very important appointment.”

We maintain our composure until we get halfway up the ramp to my bedroom. Then we explode into giggles.

“Oh my gosh,” I burst. “That was kind of awesome.”

“Kind of?” Peri echoes. “Try very!”

We’re laughing as we swim into my room. Floating to my bed, we curl up next to each other in the giant shell. I begin peeling the paper off my kelpcake.

“Thank you,” Peri says, delicately pulling the paper from her cake and setting it on my bedside table.

“For what?” I ask.

“For standing up for me,” she says quietly.

“Me?” I say, my kelpcake halfway to my mouth. “You stood up for me. Twice. That was amazing.”

Peri shrugs. “I guess we stood up for each other.”

“Always,” I say before taking a giant bite out of my kelpcake.

“Now,” Peri says, inspecting her treat to find the ideal first bite, “what happened at the council meeting? Was it as bad as Astria said?”

“Oh, Peri,” I say around my mouthful of kelpcake, so it sounds more like “Oh, berry.” I swallow my ambitious bite. “It was awful.”

“Tell me all about it.” She leans her head on my shoulder. “And don’t leave out the part about why your hair is blue.”

I smile as I rest my head on top of hers and start spilling the details. Too bad changing the past isn’t one of my new powers.

Chapter 6

The royal guard wants to escort me all the way back to my house, but I convince them to leave me at the beach. Not only would a group of military-jacket-and-finkini-wearing soldier dudes make more of an impression than I’d like, I also want the alone time. The plan was to call Quince when I got back to the beach. He would come pick me up and drive me the two miles back home.

But as I watch the guards dive back into the ocean, all I want to do is take that long walk in the moonlight.

I feel so disappointed, like I’m such a failure. A selfish failure. Am I really so naive to think that just calling mer kings and queens into a meeting will solve a problem as big as the changing environment? Or that they aren’t facing huge problems of their own?

I can hardly blame them for storming out the way they did. If I were in their positions, I might have done the same thing.

That doesn’t mean I’m going to let it end like that. The mer world needs help, and I’m going to find a way to make things better. To make the rulers see that working together is our only hope. This is my duty and my mission.

Scuffing my flip-flops along the sidewalk, I stare up at the starry night above. The sky looked just as clear and peaceful and welcoming the first night I spent in Seaview. Almost four years ago, I left the only world I’d ever known to come live on land, to live among humans, and to find out more about my mom’s world.

Now I’m practically a woman. I am a crown princess and a girlfriend and a half-human mermaid who sees a big problem in the world and is determined to fix it. I just need to figure out how to do that.

The distant roar of a motorcycle brings me out of my fog, and I turn to see a single headlight shining from the beach end of the street. I stop, smiling, as Quince rolls up on Princess and pulls over in front of me.

The boy sure does know how to rock a leather jacket and a pair of biker boots. He pulls off his helmet and hangs it on a handlebar.

“I thought we had a plan, princess,” he says without accusation.

“I know.” I shake my head. “I needed some time to think.”

Quince cuts the engine and climbs off the motorcycle. “Bad?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” I say. “I thought it would be so easy.”

He stuffs his hands into his back pockets. “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” I say, stepping forward and slipping my arms around his waist. As I lay my head against his chest, I sigh. “I want to go back to yesterday and tell myself not to be so stupid.”

“Lily,” Quince says, his disapproval rumbling in his chest, “you’re not stupid.”

“Fine, naive,” I say, trying to pull away, but Quince tugs me back. “I’m an eighteen-year-old princess.” I roll my eyes at myself. “What do I know about interkingdom politics? Or widespread environmental disasters? Or even how to talk to a roomful of people without freaking out like a fraidy fish?”

Quince is silent for so long, I finally pull back and look at him, half afraid I’m going to see pity and disappointment on his face. That’s how I feel, anyway. But instead I see strength and confidence.