Of Poseidon 02: Of Triton

wasn’t exactly … Rachel has a complicated past. A past that makes it impossible to properly bury her.”
    I can tell this has already been weighing on Grom’s mind. Is this the sort of thing adults think about when someone dies, to take care of these matters first and grieve later? A look of understanding passes between Grom and my mom. “I’ll talk to the council about the Tomb Chamber,” he says. “I hardly think they’ll put up much of a resistance after today.”
    “I would like that,” Galen says from behind his brother. I swim to him and he meets me halfway. His big arms encircle me. It’s not a bear hug, or a sensual touch. It feels like Galen is clinging to me for dear life. Like he is caught in a riptide and I am his anchor.
    “I’m so sorry,” I whisper into his neck. The words almost lodge in my throat. He clutches me to him tighter, and rests his chin on the top of my hair.
    “Woden has her,” he tells Grom. “Until we decide what’s best.”
    Grom doesn’t answer. In fact, after a few minutes, I sense the pulses of Mom and Grom moving away from us. After several more minutes, I can’t sense them at all. The only pulse I feel is Galen’s. It drums against me, through me, around me.
    Things will change without Rachel. Life will not run as smoothly. But this will not change. The way we fit together. The way we know each other.

Epilogue

    “YOU’RE SURE you want to do this,” Galen says, eyeing me like I’ve grown a tiara of snakes on my head.
    “Absolutely.” I unstrap the four-hundred-dollar silver heels and spike them into the sand. When he starts unraveling his tie, I throw out my hand. “No! Leave it. Leave everything on.”
    Galen frowns. “Rachel would kill us both. In our sleep. She would torture us first.”
    “This is our prom night. Rachel would want us to enjoy ourselves.” I pull the thousand-or-so bobby pins from my hair and toss them in the sand. Really, both of us are right. She would want us to be happy. But she would also want us to stay in our designer clothes.
    Leaning over, I shake my head like a wet dog, dispelling the magic of hairspray. Tossing my hair back, I look at Galen.
    His crooked smile almost melts me where I stand. I’m just glad to see a smile on his face at all. The last six months have been rough. “Your mother will want pictures,” he tells me.
    “And what will she do with pictures? There aren’t exactly picture frames in the Royal Caverns.” Mom’s decision to mate with Grom and live as his queen didn’t surprise me. After all, I am eighteen years old, an adult, and can take care of myself. Besides, she’s just a swim away.
    “She keeps picture frames at her house though. She could still enjoy them while she and Grom come to shore to—”
    “Okay, ew. Don’t say it. That’s where I draw the line.”
    Galen laughs and takes off his shoes. I forget all about Mom and Grom. Galen, barefoot in the sand, wearing an Armani tux. What more could a girl ask for?
    “Don’t look at me like that, angelfish,” he says, his voice husky. “Disappointing your grandfather is the last thing I want to do.”
    My stomach cartwheels. Swallowing doesn’t help. “I can’t admire you, even from afar?” I can’t quite squeeze enough innocence in there to make it believable, to make it sound like I wasn’t thinking the same thing he was.
    Clearing his throat, he nods. “Let’s get on with this.” He closes the distance between us, making foot-size potholes with his stride. Grabbing my hand, he pulls me to the water. At the edge of the wet sand, just out of reach of the most ambitious wave, we stop.
    “You’re sure?” he says again.
    “More than sure,” I tell him, giddiness swimming through my veins like a sneaking eel. Images of the conference center downtown spring up in my mind. Red and white balloons, streamers, a loud, cheesy DJ yelling over the starting chorus of the next song. Kids grinding against one another on the dance floor to lure the chaperones’ attention away from a punch bowl just waiting to be spiked. Dresses spilling over with skin, matching corsages, awkward gaits due to six-inch heels. The prom Chloe and I dreamed of.
    But the memories I wanted to make at that prom died with Chloe. There could never be any joy in that prom without her. I couldn’t walk through those doors and not feel that something was missing. A big something.
    No, this is where I belong now. No balloons, no loud music, no loaded punch bowl.