“We will certainly all stick together,” said the duke, in a voice that brooked no argument. “But there is no question of us not attending the tournament. We will all go, to show our support. We will not give the impression that the crown is imposing a penalty on us, or that we are unwilling to do our part to contribute to the stability of the kingdom.”
“Yes, Father,” said Heath quickly.
His gaze passed from his brother’s mutinous expression to the worry still lurking in his parents’ eyes, before lowering to the plate in front of him. He held back a sigh as he felt the weight of the ocean rock still in his pocket.
He was itching to discover what, if anything, was hidden below the water. But that mystery would have to wait. His feet were back on land now and, as expected, his problems seemed to have grown with the approaching shoreline.
CHAPTER THREE
Merletta tried not to stare at the building that rose up around her. This was no dim stone structure, roughly carved out of the rocky ocean floor, like the charity home she’d grown up in. The receiving hall for the Center of Culture was smooth, pale, and ornate. This structure had been built, not carved. The stone had been quarried from elsewhere, and polished into smoothness. It was inset all over with mollusk shells in pearly white or glinting green, making the very walls shimmer. A small interior coral garden brightened one corner of the space, with skillfully carved stone benches surrounding it.
Merletta swam to the stone desk behind which a mermaid about a decade older than her was seated. The mermaid didn’t look up immediately, distracted by something behind the desk that Merletta couldn’t see. After a prolonged moment, Merletta cleared her throat, and the other mermaid looked up.
“Can I help—oh,” the mermaid said. She ran her eyes over Merletta’s entirely unadorned form.
Merletta held her head up, a challenge in her eyes. She knew that the simple shells that formed her only attire, standard for beneficiaries of the home she’d grown up in, were conspicuously different from the decorated and embellished coverings worn by mermaids from Skulssted, or indeed the neighboring city of Hemssted. But she had no intention of showing any embarrassment.
“I’m here to apply,” Merletta said boldly.
“For the messenger position?” asked the other mermaid, her voice bored. The disdain in her eyes communicated what she thought of Merletta’s chances of achieving even that lowly position.
“No,” said Merletta defiantly. “I’ve just turned sixteen. I want to apply for training as a record holder.”
The mermaid looked up, her attention finally caught as her eyebrows shot up. “A record holder?” For a moment she looked too shocked to even be derisive.
“That’s right,” said Merletta, raising her chin.
The mermaid glanced over her again. “And you’re from Tilssted?” she guessed.
“I am,” Merletta confirmed.
The mermaid looked around at the room, empty except for the two of them. “Where are your parents?” Her lip curled slightly. “I suppose you don’t know how it usually works, but it’s traditional for the parents to accompany applicants, to give their blessing to—”
“I know how it works,” Merletta interrupted curtly. “I don’t have any parents. I was raised in a charity home.”
The mermaid just blinked, her expression blank. “You were raised in a charity home?” She paused. “In Tilssted? And you want to apply to be a record holder?”
“I’ve just said so, haven’t I?” Merletta said. She was annoyed to hear the sulky edge to her own voice, but as much as she had prepared herself for derision, it was still hard to take the mermaid’s obvious struggle to hold back laughter.
“Well,” the other mermaid said at last. “I suppose…I suppose you should take a seat.” She gestured toward the coral garden with its stone benches. “I’ll call the recruit-master.”
“Thank you,” said Merletta, as politely as she could.
Swimming over to the nearest bench, she settled herself on its smooth surface and let her tail swish gently back and forth in an attempt to release her nervous tension. She had been dreaming of this day for years—ever since she’d first learned about the Center and its role, when she was a child. She refused to allow anyone else’s attitude or behavior to chill the current of her enthusiasm. She was going to make it, like she’d told Tish. She was going to become a record holder, whatever she had to endure these next four years to make that happen.
The employee disappeared through a stone archway, and Merletta tried not to fidget as she waited. It was at least ten minutes before the other mermaid returned, an older merman following behind her. One glance at his face was enough to convince Merletta that whatever else his virtues might be, the recruit-master wasn’t known for his patience.
“You’re the new applicant?” the merman barked at her. His bristly brows—which had the perpetually puckered look of someone who always had somewhere more important to be—drew even further together. “The one from Tilssted?”
Merletta pushed off the bench, moving to float in front of him with rigidly straight posture.
“I’m Merletta,” she said, trying to keep her tone respectful even as she refused to acknowledge the label he had given her. She knew the law, and she let that knowledge buoy her up.
“It’s been some years since we’ve had any applicants from Tilssted,” the recruit-master said, a hint of distaste in his voice. “Are you sure you want to put yourself through the application process? It’s very rigorous.”
“I’m sure, sir,” said Merletta evenly.
The merman sighed, looking like he didn’t care enough to fight over the point. No doubt he expected her to fail the first round of testing and be out of his hair in no time at all. Merletta set her jaw grimly. He’d soon learn his mistake.