Of Poseidon 02: Of Triton

fine.”
    Galen decides on proud. Oh, and completely besotted. She gives him a curt nod to which he grins. Turning to the crowd of ogling Syrena, she says, “I am Emma, daughter of Nalia, true princess of Poseidon.”
    He hears murmurs of “Half-Breed” but it sounds more like awe than hatred or disgust. And why shouldn’t it? They’ve seen Paca’s display of the Gift. Emma’s has just put it to shame.
    She gives the Arena time to digest that, striking a regal pose she only could have learned from Rayna. An undertone of shock rumbles through the assembly. Some can’t take their eyes off the mass of darkness surrounding them. Most can’t take their eyes off Emma.
    After a while, she raises a finger to her lips, the human signal for silence. The Arena seems to know what she means. “I’ve come to testify on behalf of the Royals. As you can see, I have some evidence that might have been overlooked.” She motions to outside of the Arena, where her collection of meat-eaters hover in wait of her next order.
    When Jagen detaches from the crowd and comes toward Emma, Galen puts himself between them. “You’re not welcome here, Half-Breed!” he snarls.
    Grom joins the three of them at the center stone. A crowd gathers around them. “You yourself summoned her here,” Grom says. “Did you not, before everyone, insist that Toraf bring the Half-Breed here?”
    “You’re Jagen,” Emma says, crossing her arms. “You’re the cause of all this stupidity. Where is Paca?”
    “Paca has nothing to say to a disgusting Half-Breed,” Jagen spits. “In fact, none of us here have anything to say to one!” He looks around the growing ring of onlookers. He gets very little support.
    Emma treads back, nodding. Searching the faces of the throng surrounding them, she says, “It’s true. I am a Half-Breed. Nalia is my mother. My father, a human, is dead. And as for me being welcome here, that’s not a decision for one Syrena, but for all of them.”
    Indecisiveness ripples through the masses. They pack closer to get a better look at Emma. Galen doesn’t like the suffocating number of them. Some are still loyal to Jagen. Some of them might want to hurt her.
    Jagen pushes against them in warning, forcing them to maintain at least a small center stage. He turns on Emma. “Actually, it was decided for them all. Our great generals effected that hundreds of seasons ago. ‘No contact with humans.’ If you’re claiming Syrena heritage, you should at least learn some of our laws, young human.”
    Emma laughs. Galen recognizes it as her go-to when she’s about to prove him wrong about something. But he doesn’t want her to prove Jagen wrong. He wants to get her out of here. His whole being thrums with the need to steal her away.
    But Emma is determined. “ Now you’re concerned with the laws? I didn’t realize you could pick and choose which ones to follow, Jagen. That sounds pretty convenient, huh?” She earns a few nods of approval from their audience, not the least of which comes from King Antonis. He watches her intensely, pride stuck on his face like squid ink. Galen knows the feeling.
    Emma pauses, and her whole demeanor changes from huntress to mother as she looks to the accumulation of fish above her. “Those who need air may surface. Come back when you’re done. Young ones go first.”
    Emma turns her attention back to the Syrena. “I possess the Gift of Poseidon. Look around you and deny it.”
    Jagen’s nostrils flare. “Do not let yourselves be charmed by this Half-Breed, as Poseidon did so long ago. That’s why Triton ordered all Half-Breeds killed in the first place, is it not? And now you would allow her to defile the sanctity of our Arena with her lies of having the sacred Gift of Poseidon?”
    Rayna pushes through the audience, and to Galen’s dismay she’s holding Toraf’s hand. She propels them both into the center. Toraf and Galen exchange nods, but Galen feels as though icicles run through his veins. Emma shouldn’t be here. And she’s here because of him .
    “I, for one, do not believe she has the Gift of Poseidon,” Rayna says gleefully. “If you have the Gift of Poseidon, make those hammerheads attack Jagen where he stands.”
    Galen pinches the bridge of his nose. Toraf smirks at him, but Galen will not return the sentiment. Not now and not in a thousand years.
    Emma mulls over this for a moment, then points to a female Syrena on the front line of the ring. Galen recognizes her