“Adaro, son of Leomaris and champion of the Southern Seas,” Kurt flourishes in my direction. “I present to you Tristan Hart, son of David Hart and champion of King Karanos.”
Freaking Adaro with his shiny golden staff and wind-tossed black hair. The white of his teeth is blinding against his cinnamon skin. He’s loud and maybe a little drunk. He’s in full human mode, though right at his ankles are a leftover spattering of red and yellow scales. I realize they’re there on purpose, letting him wave his family colors like a flag. So I let my blue scales surface on my wrists.
He sits up, sloshing white slushie down his chest and abs, and soaking the hem of his golden Speedo.
I start cough-laughing and Kurt gives me a few good smacks.
“I didn’t peg you for a piña colada kind of guy,” I say.
“It’s a piña colada kind of day!”
“Here we go,” Layla mutters behind me. Despite the tension in her body, she keeps her chin up.
“It’s wonderful to see you!” Adaro opens his arms wide toward me. Does he expect me to hug him? He pulls me into a bear hug, lifting me way off the ground, then kissing me on each cheek. He looks Thalia and Layla up and down with drunk golden eyes and kisses the back of their hands. Then, looking down the beach, he does a double take. Gwen in a long, white dress, stark against the grayness of the beach.
“I didn’t realize Princess Gwenivere was here,” Adaro whispers, patting my back too long.
Her eyes twinkle the closer she gets, and she smiles, letting me take her hand for a kiss. I hope she’s not still mad about this morning. She bows to Adaro, offering congratulations, before joining the others in the tent. Adaro drinks his piña colada faster. “Is it getting warm here?”
A mermaid close to him draws out a fan and starts batting it at him.
“Please, sit!” Adaro gestures to his makeshift court. “Make room for our welcome guests.”
Every princess, except for Sarabell, does as she’s asked. They trade wicked glances, like they hope any moment Adaro and I will just start going at it. Right, court politics. It’s not like I haven’t played this game before. Angelo calls them “faux bros.” Guys from other swim teams that we hang out with even though they’re our competition.
“I must tell you,” Adaro says, taking a tiger-shell plate of oysters and passing them down my way. “I’m not much for cold seas, but this shore is rather charming. It’s like a parade of foot-fins! Look, look at that one!”
A jogger passes by. He’s muscular and has a lion tattooed over his chest. He lowers his sunglasses to get a better look at us but doesn’t stop. I catch Sarabell gazing after him, and when she sees me staring, she scoots away from me as if my very presence offends her.
“I should be congratulating you.” I try to match his enthusiasm, but it’s hard to keep up with.
“And I you.” His golden eyes are happy and wet. He combs his hair back coolly and opens his mouth, accepting the golden grape Princess Violet of the loveliest purple hair feeds him.
I lean over to Kurt and whisper, “She got over you really quickly.”
I don’t give him time to react. I lean forward to Adaro and ask, “So what’s the story, man?”
“The story?”
“Yep, the story.” I take the tray from Sarabell, despite the nagging looks from Kurt and Gwen as I do so, and suck down an oyster. The salt wakens up my taste buds, and the meat is tender so I take another. “Every adventure comes with a story.”
Gwen leans back and says, “Everyone knows how Tristan found the quartz piece.”
Sarabell eyes me. “Yes, the youngest sightless oracle deemed you worthy.”
My eye twitches when she says that, but I keep my smile frozen.
“Tell it, Addie,” Violet says. Her voice is like pressing the belly of a doll that sings back to you.
Addie, I mouth to the bronze merman, who doesn’t like his girlfriend’s nickname coming from me.
“Sit back, cousin. I will tell it,” says Sarabell. She stands with her back to the water. Her skirts are the color of sunset, the material sheer and threaded with gold. It has the effect of a great flame. Her smile is wicked, marring the smooth, chiseled lines of her face. “Our family is descended from one of the original kings of the sea, Ellanos—he carried the staff. Wielded it to shape the