As I pass her, my fin kick must disturb her hair, because she glances up. Her attendants look up, too, and I feel their gazes on me as I continue, taking my place at the end of the table.

Their attention must catch the notice of the other monarchs and attendants, because as I turn to face the gallery of assembled kings and queens, every single eye in the room is fixed on me.

I suck in a sharp breath.

And I thought delivering a speech in English class was terrifying.

Tellin passes behind me, taking his place at my side. One pair of eyes in the room shifts to Tellin. His father, King Gadus, does not look pleased. Tellin was not even certain if his father would be here to participate in the council. Not only because Acropora’s king is ill, dying from the effects of ocean warming that are slowly but surely destroying his entire kingdom, but also because he resisted calling a council of kings and queens for so long. Until recently, he was too proud to allow even his son to ask for help. It seems he’s still not entirely thrilled at the idea.

I haven’t seen King Gadus for several years, but he looks decades older than the last time. His salt-and-pepper hair is thinning, his cheeks are hollow, and his skin is looser than it should be. But he’s here and—if the simmering look in his brown eyes is any indication—ready for a fight.

I grip the stone table with both hands, squeezing tight to give my nerves a way out. It’s not enough. My mind freezes as I confront all the faces awaiting my words—if not eagerly, then with annoyed anticipation. Everything Shannen taught me about public speaking, everything Daddy told me about making a presentation to the council, everything Quince said to help me relax, knots up in my chest, and I start to feel like I might faint.

I’ve never thought of myself as a coward—except where my crush on Brody was concerned, though that seems like a silly thing now—but I really don’t think I can do this. My muscles tense, and I’m ready to bolt for the door, when I feel a pressure on my wrist. I look down to see Tellin’s red-freckled fingers slip over mine.

I stare at our hands, and it’s like a wave of calm washes up and over me. Instantly, my heart rate slows, and I can practically feel the adrenaline in my bloodstream oozing away.

I look up at him, startled.

He smiles, his eyes steady and reassuring, and I feel it. It’s like his calm certainty becomes mine.

The bond. I smile back. I really needed this right now.

Taking control of my emotions, I look up and face some of the most powerful merfolk in the seven seas. I suck in a deep breath, prepare the words in my mind, and open my mouth to speak.

“Wel—”

“What in all the oceans is this about?”

Everyone turns to look at the door, where Queen Dumontia—in all her icy-blue glory—is sweeping into the room like a wave into a tide pool. Her long, beautiful hair swirls around her, creating an aura of silvery white. The look on her face is as stark as the arctic world she rules. Stony and cold.

My stomach backflips.

“Queen Dumontia of Glacialis,” Mangrove calls out belatedly, his voice quivering.

She tosses a dark look in his direction, and he quickly backs out of the chamber.

“You are right on time, Queen Dumontia,” I say, trying to keep the fear out of my suddenly tight voice. “We were just about to begin.”

She washes her gaze over the room, maybe to find an empty seat for herself and her bodyguards, or maybe to give everyone a nasty look. When she spots a vacant chair between King Zostero of Desfleurelle and one of Queen Cypraea’s advisers, she swims over the entire table to get there.

As she settles into her seat—the bodyguards taking their places behind her, in very military-looking stances—she mutters, “I can’t believe we had to answer the request of a mere child. Again.” She cuts a look at King Zostero. “Probably as much a waste of time as the one your brat called.”

The silence of the room only makes her comments resonate more.

In that moment, as scared as I am, I am also annoyed. I am not a child. I am a crown princess. It is my right—and my duty, in this instance—to call a council of kings and queens.

If she doesn’t like it, then she can just deal.

I clear my throat, drawing back the attention of the room. Even Dumontia reluctantly turns her gaze on me.

I avoid that gaze as I begin.

“Welcome, kings and queens of the Western Atlantic,” I say, maintaining my calm even as Tellin pulls his hand away. “Thank you for coming all the way to Thalassinia. I have called you here today to request your help. One of our sister kingdoms is in trouble”—I glance at Tellin and find him looking solemn and concerned—“but together I know we can help. Crown Prince Tellin of Acropora will tell you more about the problem.”

I float back a bit to let Tellin share his part. I watch the gathered assembly as he talks about the dying ecosystem, the mass emigrations, and the bleak future of his kingdom. My emotions well up, and I expect to see matching tear-glittered eyes in the rest of the room, but I don’t. Everyone is listening attentively—even Dumontia—but they look kind of unaffected.

Maybe they’ve learned how to mask their emotions better than I have.

When Tellin finishes his part, I float forward and prepare to make the formal request.

“As you can imagine, Acropora is in desperate need of our help.” I look out over the crowd, trying to make eye contact with as many rulers as I can. “That is why we have called you here. To ask for pledges of support. What Acroporans need most right now are food and first aid, but that will only help in the short run. They also need long-term assistance in the form of broader trade routes and refuge in other kingdoms and, ultimately, in rebuilding their ecosystem.”