Of Poseidon 02: Of Triton

he was letting his imagination get the better of him. Now he’s not so sure. “What do you mean?” he says lightly.
    Toraf nods down toward the sand. “You know what I mean. Looks like you have the red fever.”
    “The red fever bloats you all over, idiot. Right before it kills you. It doesn’t make your fin grow wider. Besides, the red tide hasn’t been bad for years now.” But Toraf already knows what the red fever looks like. Not long after he first became a Tracker, Toraf was commissioned to find an older Syrena who had gone off on his own to die after he’d been caught in what the humans call the red tide. Toraf was forced to tie seaweed around the old one’s fin and pull his body to the Cave of Memories.
    No, he doesn’t think I have the red fever .
    Toraf allows himself a long look at Galen’s fin. If it were anyone else, Galen would consider it rude. “Does it hurt?”
    “It’s sore.”
    “Have you asked anyone about it?”
    “I’ve had other things on my mind.” Which is the truth. Galen really hadn’t given it much thought until right now. Now that it has been noticed by someone else.
    Toraf pulls his own fin around and after a few seconds of twisting and bending, he’s able to measure it against his torso. It spans from his neck to where his waist turns into velvety tail. He nods to Galen to do the same. Galen is horrified to find that his fin now spans from the top of his head to well below his waist. It really does look like a whale tail.
    “I don’t know how I feel about that,” Toraf says, thoughtful. “I’ve gotten used to having the most impressive fin out of the two us.”
    Galen grins, letting his tail fall. “For a minute there I thought you really cared.”
    Toraf shrugs. “Being self-conscious doesn’t suit you.”
    Galen follows his gaze back out into the sea ahead of them. “So what do you think about yesterday’s tribunal?”
    “I think I know where Nalia and Emma get their temper.”
    Galen laughs. “I thought Jagen was going to pass out when Antonis grabbed him.”
    “He’s not very good at interacting with others anymore, is he?”
    “I wonder if he ever was. I told you how crazy Nalia always acted. Could be a family trait.”
    It looks like Toraf might actually smile but instead his gaze jerks back out to sea, a new scowl on his face.
    “Oh, no,” Galen groans. “What is it?” Please don’t say Emma. Please don’t say Emma.
    “Rayna,” Toraf says through clenched teeth. “She’s heading straight for us.”
    That’s almost as bad . Of course, it could be worse, considering all that happened yesterday. Jagen’s outrageous claims—not to mention King Antonis’s wild display of temper—landed all the Royals under Archival restriction. They must now keep within the narrow confines of the Boundary until the tribunal ends. Emma’s presence would more than complicate things. Everyone is already suspicious of the Royals; what would the council of Archives think if they knew the Royals were hiding the existence of a Half-Breed? It would ruin any hope they have—what little there may be, that is—of getting a positive verdict back from the council.
    No, Rayna’s arrival isn’t the worst thing that could happen—unless, of course, it means Emma is in some sort of trouble. But Toraf would tell him if Rayna were swimming with more urgency than normal, wouldn’t he? Still, Rayna’s unannounced visit isn’t a good thing. Grom and Toraf will share the same foul mood. Plus there’s always the issue of Rayna’s mouth. But what did they expect? Rayna has never been especially fond of being left out. He knew it was just a matter of time. “You have to meet her, tell her to turn around before she gets in the Boundary.”
    Toraf shakes his head. “She’s been in range for a while now. She started this way yesterday while the tribunal was in session. While I couldn’t do anything about it.” Toraf turns to Galen. “Trackers have already sensed her. She passed within range of at least two Poseidon Trackers on the way. They’re following her.”
    “How long until she’s here?” Galen still can’t sense her, so she’s still a good distance away. “Why can’t you just go meet her?”
    “We’re being watched as we speak.” He inclines his head to their left—the general direction in which Galen feels Jagen’s pulse. A pulse that gets stronger by the second. He’s coming toward us.
    “Shark,” Galen mutters.
    Toraf nods. “I know. But