Chapter 2

The bath is steaming hot as I step into the tub. I sink down and stretch my legs out in front of me, sighing as my body absorbs the calming effects of the water. My hair is carefully pinned up, out of the way, so the squid ink doesn’t contaminate the entire tub and wind up turning my skin blue.

Closing my eyes for a second, I focus on my transfiguration as human flesh magically shifts to mermaid scales.

“Ahhhh.” I smile. This is exactly what I need—a brief break from the world to relax my thoughts.

That might require a longer bath than I have time for.

Since I got back to Seaview yesterday morning, I’ve been thinking nonstop about the problems in Acropora. From what Tellin says, things are really bad there. His people are starving, their environment is dying, and they are leaving the kingdom in droves to seek better chances either on land or in neighboring kingdoms. Daddy confirms that Thalassinia has seen a surge in immigration; he just didn’t know the reason.

Now we know why.

I shake my head and sink a little lower in the water.

How could this have been happening to the kingdom next door without us having any idea? It’s sad and a little scary.

That’s why I’m so eager to call the council meeting and get the other rulers involved. Everyone in the Western Atlantic should know what’s happening to their kin. That Tellin’s dad, King Gadus, has kept this a secret for so long has only made things worse. He let his pride hurt his people, and that’s something a ruler should never do.

“But,” I say to myself, “things will get better after the council meeting.”

Tellin and I will make our plea as a united front, and the other kingdoms will step up to help. It’s the mer-world way.

Eyes closed, I relax against the wall of the tub. I need a little more time in the water. I’ll get out in a minute. Then I’ll finish up the invitations and send them off by messenger gull to royal palaces across the Western Atlantic. After that, it’s just a matter of figuring out what to say and waiting for the offers of help.

Meow!

My heart lurches, and I sit bolt upright in the tub. Water sloshes over the edges and onto the white tile floor.

Meow meow meow!

“Prithi,” I growl at the door, where Aunt Rachel’s cat is scratching to get into the bathroom. “Go stalk Doe.”

She lets out a plaintive meow and then goes silent. I twist around in the tub and see the shadow of her paws under the door.

“Fine,” I mutter. “Time to get back to work anyway.”

Quickly transfiguring back into my legs, I lean forward and pull the plug from the drain. As the lime-scented water swirls away, I maneuver up onto my knees and turn on the faucet. I unclip my hair, lean to the side, and stick my head under the running water.

From the corner of my eye, I see dark blue running down the side of the tub. I squeeze some coconut shampoo into my hand and scrub it into my hair. Blue foam bubbles up around the drain. I keep lathering and rinsing until the foam and the water streaming from my hair have no traces of blue.

I shut off the water and quickly wrap my head in a soft, fluffy towel.

Climbing out of the tub, I grab another towel to dry off my body. I kneel down and mop up the water from the floor before tossing the soggy towel into the hamper.

Standing in front of the mirror, I pull the towel off my head and expect to see my normal blond rat’s nest. Instead, I see a blond rat’s nest with a giant splotch of blue on one side.

“No,” I gasp.

Apparently squid ink is both water- and shampoo-proof. I grab the towel and scrub desperately at the discolored hair. When I pull the terry cloth away and find no traces of blue, I know I’m in trouble. It’s not rubbing off. My hair is well and truly dyed.

And not in a cool way. If it was just the tips or even one long streak, that would be fine. But it’s a big blob. Most of the bottom half of my hair on the left side of my head. Just . . . blue.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

There are three options. I can cut off the blue and the rest of my hair to match, leaving me with a bob-length style. I immediately dismiss that. One disastrous experiment with short hair my sophomore year that left me looking like a fuzzy blond Q-tip taught me that lesson.

I could dye the rest of my hair to match. That would even things out, but I’m not cool enough to pull off blue hair. I’m barely cool enough to pull off normal hair.

Or I could just leave it like it is and hope it eventually fades away.

I don’t like any of the options. But as I stare at the wet curls of blue and blond in the mirror, I know I don’t have much choice. I will just have to live with it for a while.

Meow.

“Okay, okay,” I say to the impatient cat. “I’m coming.”

I get dressed and, after briefly considering—and then dismissing—the idea of fashioning the towel into a blue-hair-disguising hat, open the door. Prithi stares up at me. She blinks several times before turning and running down the hall, into Doe’s room.

“That bad, huh?” I call after her.

When I walk back downstairs, I brace myself for a tsunami of comments about my blue hair. Doe’s will be the worst, I’m sure. I step into the kitchen and find it empty. The table is clear, not even a trace of squid ink on the painted surface. Wish I could say the same about my hair.

Guess this explains why Prithi abandoned her Doe worship for a while.

I spin around, looking for signs of what happened, or maybe a note. I find one stuck to the refrigerator.