I’m about to say, “Don’t worry, it’ll grow back,” but he raises his blade with a deep grunt and charges at me until I find myself stuck between Kurt and the edge of the ship once again.
Note: Don’t mess with a merman’s full head of hair.
It’s the reaction I want—careless, reckless, thoughtless. Until we’re stuck in a mirror image with my sword at his throat and his at mine.
“Draw?” Kurt suggests.
“I don’t think so, bro.” I shake my head, pressing the cold metal of his own knife to his abdomen. My heart is pounding, partly because I can’t believe I did it. Partly because Kurt digs the edge of his sword into my throat some more.
“Easy,” I say. Neither of us stands down. “If I show up to the oracle without a head, she’s going to think I’m rude.”
With a loud harrumph, he steps back, lowers his weapon, admits defeat by bowing. It takes all of me, and I mean years of discipline, to not shout, “Yeah, in your face!”
But this is not me beating my buddy Angelo at Mortal Kombat. This is how grown-up mermen fight. I bow back to him, accepting his defeat but keeping my eyes on him at all times. The clapping above us breaks our warrior trance. Kurt blinks into the blinding sun beating through the sails. I flip the small knife in the air, catch it on its blade, and hand it back to him. He grunts a short “Thanks.”
“Well done, Master Tristan,” says a baritone voice. Arion, the captain of our ship, hovers over us. He’s a merman just like Kurt and me, but he’s royally bound to the vessel. Enchanted black vines twine around his wrists and his tail. The black and silver fins lick at the empty air beneath him. The binding stretches all over the ship, allowing him to go as far as the topmast, but never into the sea. A punishment carried over from father to son.
I reach up and shake his hand. “Thanks, man.”
“You’re a fast learner,” Kurt says, nodding. I can tell he doesn’t say this easily. “A natural, really, if you adjusted your focus.”
“You should have more faith in me,” I say.
Kurt takes one step closer. Whatever he’s going to say is interrupted by blue and purple blurs.
It’s the urchin brothers, pulling sails and tying ropes to create a little bit of shade. When they stop running around, you can see their true shapes. Their almond-shaped eyes are big and black, like their gums, which freaked me out when Blue woke me up this morning. True to their name, the urchin brothers have spiky heads that are surprisingly soft to the touch.
Note: Don’t mess with an urchin’s head of hair, either.
The food they’ve spread out on silver platters, tarnished from being stored below deck, is decadent. Dried salmon skin, pink stuff that jiggles without touching it, and whole calamari jerky that looks like Buddha hands coming to get you. There’s caviar in the brightest colors on top of crunchy dried seaweed. Steamed seaweed. Seaweed noodles. Seaweed chips. There’s a great big seaweed party in my mouth.
Blue is studying my face. He’s been trying so hard to make something that I’ll like. “Special, for Lord Sea Tristan.”
My smile is strained. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to a mer diet. But he’s trying so hard and I don’t want to hurt his feelings. “Uh—thanks, little dude.”
I make to sit down, but Kurt stands in my way. He flips his hair back, splashing me on the way. I knew he was a sore loser, but damn, let me live.
“What?” I ask irritably.
“Don’t you think it’s time, Tristan?”
“Time for what?”
“You said you’d tell us.” He turns back to Layla, then to me. “About the other night. With the oracle.”
Friday night. The night I claimed one of the three trident pieces from the oracle in Central Park. I’ve been putting off the details, but I’ve run out of reasons.
“It might help us with the next oracle,” Layla urges.
“Perhaps later—” Gwen starts.
“Not later,” Layla presses, sitting up on her knees. “I mean, you just left. Then you return with your giant metal toothpick and Princess Snowflake here, and you won’t tell us what happened.”
“Tristan doesn’t have to tell you everything,” Gwen says.
Layla ignores her and looks up right at me. “What did she do to you?”
I’m not sure if she means the oracle or if she means Gwenivere.
I hold my hands up in defense. “You guys. It’s just—”