in his case, leprosy, but I know better. They’re what remain of his gills. His eyes are sharp sapphires framed by a face that is gaunt and poreless. His ’fro is untamed. His pants are filthy and ripped, and right at the center of his chest is a keloid in the shape of a trident. Just like my mom’s scar. Just like the tattoo between my shoulder blades.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats louder, still eyeing my food.
I hand my tray to the old man in a hurry. “Take it.”
“I couldn’t.” His voice is hoarse and dry like paper.
“Please, take it. I’m not hungry.” It’s not exactly what I want to say. I want to say, “I’m sorry that this happened to you. I wish I could fix it.” I should sound nicer, soothing.
The man takes the food, ripping bread and meat and shoving it into his mouth. Between swallows he manages, “Thank you, sire. Thank you.”
Kurt has stopped in the middle of a crowd, shielding his eyes from the sun. People shove him out of the way, but he keeps standing his ground. The boom-box bicycle speeds back the other way. More children are crying. The photographer is snapping away. I stuff my garbage in a plastic bag.
“I lost them,” Kurt says.
The fat, oily man on the bench beside me taps my shoulder.
“What?” I don’t mean to sound so exasperated, but that’s how it comes out.
“You shouldn’t do that, you know.”
“Relax, I’m not littering,” I say, showing him my bag of garbage. But he grabs my hand. If people keep grabbing me, I’m bound to start chopping off hands—like a real king.
“I meant feed them. You shouldn’t do that. They’re like pigeons.”
I pull out of his hold and start walking to where Kurt is waiting with a worried look on his face. The fat, oily man keeps shouting after me. “You give them a little, and they just keep coming back for more.”
Kurt pulls me away, farther into the crowd. “I don’t want Thalia with those people. I have to find her.”
I hate the way he says this, like somehow we’re better. I keep a steady pace beside him, weaving through the throngs.
Suddenly I flinch. A hand comes out of my blind spot and smacks me across the face. I stumble into a group of angry dudes who push me back. I fall at her feet. I follow the slender ankles, the bare legs beneath a sheer dress. Her hair billows wildly in the breeze, framing radiating amber eyes.
When I stand, I’m a foot taller than her, but somehow she makes me feel small.
Her full lips part slowly and growl, “You’re late.”
How am I late?” I press my hand to the hot sting on my cheek. “We said afternoon.”
She points at the sky. People are starting to look. I grab her as lightly as possible by the shoulders and walk her toward the railing separating the boardwalk and the sand.
“It was high noon two hours ago!” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ve been here surrounded by the beastliest of creatures. I’m hungry. My legs hurt. Do you know what that feels like?”
“Sara—”
“Do you even care?” She presses a slender hand over her chest. “Oh boy.” I look to Kurt who can’t do anything more than scratch his head.
“Well?”
This girl, this incredibly beautiful girl, is seething in my face.
Her shoulders are hot under my hands.
“Of course,” I say. “Of course I care.”
Her eyes soften. “You do?”
“I was just looking for you.” I run my hands through my hair.
“There are so many people, you know?” I try my most charming smile, the kind that’s gotten me in (and out of ) trouble in the past. I pretend I’m smiling at Layla and it becomes easy. Sure, there’s a nasty knot in my gut, but I have to push through. Since leaving the Vanishing Cove, I’ve felt like I have a bunch of broken pieces in my hands. If Sarabell can point me in the right direction, I’m going for it.
“Come.” I take her hand. She crosses her fingers with mine, and I resist the urge to pull away. “Let’s swim.”
•••
This is the girl who’s supposed to get me closer to Adaro and the next oracle?
They might as well lock me in a cage with a hungry tiger. Sarabell is all smiles now, raising a proud chin to the sky and turning her mischievous eyes to me. “You appear nervous, Lord Sea.”
“I’m not nervous,” I lie. The sand is boiling hot under