Of Poseidon

island?” Emma asks, finishing the rest of her juice.
    “Who else is talking about it?” Galen frowns.
    “In the living room, I heard Toraf give her a choice between going to the kitchen or finding an island.”
    Galen laughs. “And she picked the kitchen, right?”
    Emma nods. “What? What’s so funny?”
    “Rayna and Toraf are mated. I guess humans call it married,” he says. “Syrena find an island when they’re ready to … mate in a physical sense. We can only do that in human form.”
    “Oh. Oh. Um, okay,” she says, blushing anew. “I wondered about that. The physical part, I mean. So they’re married? Seems like she hates him.”
    Galen hesitates. He remembers Rachel’s outrage about this subject when he first told her all those years ago. Emma will find out one way or another. Might as well be now. “Toraf asked our brother for her, and he consented. I know humans do it a little differently, but—”
    “ What? ” Emma eases out of her chair, leans over the table with arms crossed.
    Here we go. “Toraf asked—”
    “You’re telling me your brother forced her to marry Toraf ?” Speaking while her jaw is clenched makes her words difficult to understand.
    “Well, it’s not like she was there—”
    “ What? She wasn’t at her own wedding?”
    “Emma, you need to calm down. Syrena don’t call it a wedding. They call it—”
    “I don’t care what you call it,” she shouts. “And I don’t care if she’s human or not. You don’t force someone to marry someone else!”
    “I agree!” Rayna calls from the living room. Toraf follows her into the kitchen grinning, despite his split lip. Rayna plants herself beside Emma, crosses her arms the same way.
    Emma nods to her. “You see? She doesn’t like it. She shouldn’t have to be married if she doesn’t like it.”
    “Exactly my point,” Rayna says, elbowing Emma in a show of camaraderie. Galen shakes his head. Emma doesn’t seem to remember that just last night, Rayna used that same elbow to try to puncture her left eye.
    “Morning,” Toraf says pleasantly, taking the seat next to Galen. “I trust everyone slept well?” Rachel silently serves him breakfast and pours him some water.
    Galen sighs. “Emma, please sit down. This isn’t some new law she didn’t know about. She did have a choice at first. If Rayna had picked a mate sooner, this wouldn’t have—”
    “There’s a time limit to picking a mate? Really? This just gets better and better. So tell me, Galen, if I turn out to be one of you, will I be expected to mate? Do you already have someone in mind for me, Your Highness?”
    There she goes again . All night she called him Your Highness and Majesty. And by the face she makes, she considers it an insult. Which is why he’s dying to tell her she’s a Royal too, but that would create more trouble than eradicating that smug expression would be worth. And it would make her think she could pick her mate, like most female Royals can. But Emma isn’t like most female Royals. She’s the last living proof of the Poseidon line—which dwindles her choices of a mate to one.
    “ Do you have someone in mind, Galen?” Toraf asks, popping a shrimp into his mouth. “Is it someone I know?”
    “Shut up, Toraf,” Galen growls. He closes his eyes, massages his temples. This could have gone a lot better in so many ways.
    “Oh,” Toraf says. “It must be someone I know, then.”
    “Toraf, I swear by Triton’s trident—”
    “These are the best shrimp you’ve ever made, Rachel,” Toraf continues. “I can’t wait to cook shrimp on our island. I’ll get the seasoning for us, Rayna.”
    “She’s not going to any island with you, Toraf!” Emma yells.
    “Oh, but she is, Emma. Rayna wants to be my mate. Don’t you, princess?” he smiles.
    Rayna shakes her head. “It’s no use, Emma. I really don’t have a choice.”
    She resigns herself to the seat next to Emma, who peers down at her, incredulous. “You do have a choice. You can come live with me at my house. I’ll make sure he can’t get near you.”
    Toraf’s expression indicates he didn’t consider that possibility before goading Emma. Galen laughs. “It’s not so funny anymore is it, tadpole?” he says, nudging him.
    Toraf shakes his head. “She’s not staying with you, Emma.”
    “We’ll see about that, tadpole, ” she returns.
    “Galen, do something,” Toraf says, not taking his eyes off Emma.
    Galen grins. “Such as?”
    “I don’t