“Count me out,” Doe says, heading for the stairs in what almost seems like a desperate retreat. “I need another bath.”

She’s gone before I can reply.

Like she can’t wait to get away from me.

Whatever. I’m not the cause of her problems—I’m trying to help solve them.

“Guess it’s just the two of us then,” I say to Tel in with a smile. “More cookies for me.”

I wave him into a chair at the dining table while I arrange a nice stack of cookies on a plate. I pour us each a glass of milk and then take the trayful to the table. I’ve consumed two milk-soaked cookies before I feel ready to talk.

“So,” I begin, “why are you in Seaview?”

He swal ows the last of his third cookie. “What if.”

“What if.” I sigh. This is what I’m afraid of.

“I can’t stop thinking about it, Lily,” he says, sliding from his chair across the table to the one next to me. “Since our conversation in Thalassinia I’m consumed with the idea of our what-if.”

I’ve been thinking about it too. Especial y considering what’s going on with Doe. The thought has crossed my mind that, if the mer world weren’t a secret, precautions might have been in place and Doe’s parents might never have died. Things would be so different right now.

Sadly, the other risks and losses far outweigh that potential gain.

He gets up and starts pacing. I’ve never seen Tel in in terraped form, and I wonder briefly what his legs look like under his pants.

“I’m tired of hiding in the ocean.” He stops behind a chair and grabs the back with both hands. “I want to tel the world

—the whole world—who and what I am.”

“You know that’s not possible,” I argue, even if I wish it were. “It’s not responsible. Think of how many merfolk would be put at risk.”

“That’s melodramatic,” he returns. “There wil be a period of adjustment, to be sure, but I believe that terrapeds and merfolk can coexist peaceful y.”

I shake my head slowly, sadly. “I don’t—”

“I think you believe it too.” He drops back into the chair and lays his hand over mine. “You wouldn’t be living on land if you didn’t.”

“I…” The idea is too big; my mind is swimming. “Even if I did,” I insist, “there’s nothing we could do about it. The heads of al the mer states would have to agree. We can’t force them to take that kind of risk.”

“I know it can’t happen overnight,” he says. “But you are the royal princess of Thalassinia, and I’m the crown prince and acting king of Acropora. With our joined forces, we can initiate the tides of change.”

Could we? I wonder. If Tel in and I were to put the resources of both our kingdoms to the effort of trying to bring the mer world to a consensus about revealing ourselves to the human world, could it happen?

Should it happen?

Even if it might be possible, we’l never find out.

“I’l admit it’s a bril iant dream,” I say. “But you’re forgetting one thing.”

He lifts his cinnamon brows, waiting.

“After my birthday next Tuesday, I wil no longer be a royal princess. As an unbonded heir, at midnight I wil sign away my title.”

Tears prickle my eyes at the thought. I’ve been a princess al my life, raised to be the future queen and to accept al the responsibilities my position entails. To behave with decorum and compassion and with the greater good in mind. The idea that, with one scrawl of my name, al that wil be gone… wel , it makes a mergirl sad.

Not that I would change my decision. I would never be a great queen, and Thalassinia deserves a great queen. I belong with Quince—I belong on land. Which makes Tel in’s what-if al the more appealing.

Living on land means living a lie. The possibility of discarding that lie, of admitting my true identity, of helping my kingdom openly from land, is an enticing prospect.

It’s also an unattainable dream.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Lily.”

“Yes,” I say, my throat tight with tears. “It does. I’m renouncing my title and living on land as a practical y human girl. It’s the choice I’ve made.”

“But what if you didn’t have to choose?” He lifts my chin until he can look me straight in the eye. “What if I offered a solution that would al ow you to remain with your beloved and fulfil your duty to your kingdom?” Love and duty. If only. My heart beats faster. “What solution?”

His pale blue eyes don’t blink. “Bond with me.”

“What?” I bark with a strangled laugh. “That’s ridic-ulous.”

“Is it?”

Of course it is. I love Quince, and Quince loves me. I’m not about to go bonding with another boy, just because he happens to be a mer prince with some big ideas—even if they are big ideas I happen to agree with.

“I don’t mean a true bonding,” he explains. “A bond in name only. So you could remain Thalassinia’s princess—

her crown princess, and her future queen.”

“That’s… I don’t know,” I say, processing out loud. “I can’t bond with you. You’re like my brother.”

“Think about it, Lily.” He leans closer. “One brief kiss, and everything remains as it should be.”