Of Poseidon

law—and the Royals—pointless.” And it doesn’t sit well with Galen. Especially that Romul gave his opinion at all. The Archives are bound to tell the facts—nothing more, nothing less. Romul had told him that himself when Galen first visited him as a youth. But Romul is more than just an Archive to Galen, he’s his mentor. No, more than that, he’s his friend. Friends share opinions with each other.
    But Archives have no place speculating before kings.
    “Well, it’s like you said, it’s just a theory. But it’s one I can’t ignore. I’ve decided to let him use Toraf. If Paca’s alive, Toraf will find her.”
    Galen nods. And if Paca has the Gift of Poseidon, there won’t be a need for Emma … at least not for Grom. His heart races with an emotion he can’t name. “If this gets out—”
    “It won’t.”
    “Grom—”
    “But just in case it does, keep Rayna with you, wherever you’ve been. I don’t want to see your faces again until this is resolved.”
    “We’re not fingerlings. Rayna’s even mated.”
    “No, but you’re what’s left of the Triton Royals, little brother.”
    The words hover between them, prodding them with the gravity of the situation. So much at stake, so much dependant on if. Does Antonis have Paca? And if he does, will he turn her over peaceably? And if he doesn’t have her, will Grom’s investigation incite Antonis to make a bloodless war bloody?
    But it’s worth the risk. If Paca does have the Gift, mating with Grom will ensure the survival of the Syrena. And Galen will be free and clear to chase after a certain white-haired angelfish.
    But is anything ever that simple?
    Grom stares out over the canyon, entombed in his thoughts, emotions absent from his face. Galen clears his throat, but it doesn’t pull his brother out of his trance. He considers dropping the subject altogether. Opening old wounds is the last thing he wants to do, but he has to know. There will never be a good time to talk about it, but this might be the only appropriate time. “Grom, I need to ask you something.”
    Hesitant, Grom tears his gaze from the abyss and settles it on his brother, but his eyes still hold a distance. “Hmm?”
    “Do you believe in the pull?”
    The question visibly jolts Grom, replacing the detachment in his eyes with pain. “What kind of question is that?”
    Galen shrugs, guilt stabbing him like a trident. “Some say you felt the pull for Nalia.”
    Grom massages his eyes with fingertips, but not before Galen sees the torment deepen. “I didn’t realize you listened to gossip, little brother.”
    “If I listened to gossip, I wouldn’t bother to ask.”
    “Do you believe in the pull, Galen?”
    “I don’t know.”
    Grom nods, sighing. “I don’t know either. But if there is such a thing, I guess it would be safe to say I felt it toward Nalia.” With a flit of his tail, he swims forward, turning away from his brother. “Sometimes I swear I can still sense her. It’s faint, and it comes and goes. Some days it’s so real, I think I’m losing my mind.”
    “What … what does it feel like?” Galen almost can’t ask. He’d already determined to never have this conversation with Grom. But things have changed.
    To his surprise, Grom chuckles. “Is there something I need to know, little brother? Has someone finally hooked you?”
    Galen doesn’t quite get his mouth closed before his brother turns around. Grom’s laugh seems foreign in this dismal place. “Looks like she’s got you hooked and reeled. Who is she?”
    “None of your business.” At least not yet.
    Grom grins. “So that’s where you’ve been. Chasing after a female.”
    “You could say that.” In fact, his brother can say anything he wants. He’s not telling Grom about Emma. Not while Paca is out there somewhere, just waiting to be mated with a Triton king.
    “If you won’t tell me, I’ll just ask Rayna.”
    “If Rayna knew, there would have already been a public announcement.”
    “True,” Grom says, smirking. “You’re smarter than I give you credit for, tadpole. So smart, in fact, that I know I don’t have to tell you to keep her away from here, whoever she is. Just until things settle down.”
    Galen nods. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

15
    THE SMELL of blueberry muffins usually sweetens my mood, but after the lukewarm shower I just took, blueberry muffins don’t stand a chance at making my mood any sweeter than vinegar. Mom’s pulling the pan