“You’re in love with this girl, aren’t you?”
The question pulled Heath out of his thoughts with a vengeance. He turned startled eyes on his grandmother, feeling blood rush into his face then drain out of it in quick succession.
“Of course not,” he said, a little too quickly. “I hardly know her.”
His grandmother raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps I spoke too strongly. I should have said you’re very drawn to her.”
“Not…not in the way you mean,” said Heath, still speaking too quickly. “How could I be? She’s not, I mean she wasn’t…you know. Human.”
The older woman looked like she was trying not to smile, but she forbore to tease him. “It wouldn’t be wrong, Heath. To be attracted to her. She sounds a lot more human than I would have expected of a mythical creature.”
Heath jumped gratefully at the opportunity to change the direction of the conversation. “That’s what Reka said. He couldn’t seem to get it into his head that she wasn’t human.”
“Is that so?” His grandmother’s expression was once again thoughtful.
“Are you really not going to tell me what you know, or at least what you’ve guessed, about what’s going on with Reka?”
She sighed. “I’m not trying to be frustrating, Heath. But it’s like you said…some information can’t be taken back once it’s exposed. If I told you what’s in my mind, it might cause all kinds of problems for you. You might very well wish you didn’t hold that knowledge.”
“That sounds extremely evasive,” said Heath, unimpressed.
She smiled. “I know it does. But I need to think some things through. I’m going on memories from decades before you were born. I’m not at all sure of my guesses.”
“You’re as cryptic as Reka,” Heath grumbled. “You obviously spent too much time around your dragon friend.”
His grandmother laughed lightly. “I don’t think I’ve spent half as much time with Elddreki as you have with Rekavidur.” Her expression turned serious. “I meant what I said, Heath. I don’t believe for a moment that Rekavidur’s friendship is lost to you forever. You would be very foolish to let that happen. I haven’t forgotten, if you have, that he publicly named you as a dragonfriend at the Winter Solstice Festival last year. Do you understand how rare a thing that is? Especially for a human who doesn’t even wear a crown? Don’t throw it away because you need someone other than yourself to blame for what happened to Merletta.”
Heath was silent. There was a streak of rebellious defense still inside him, but he was feeling more and more chastised as his grandmother continued.
“For what it’s worth,” she said gently, “I don’t think either you or Rekavidur is really to blame for whatever did or didn’t befall this Merletta. It sounds to me like she made her own choices, and would probably stand by them, regardless of the outcome.”
Heath felt a curious mixture of pain and amusement. His grandmother was undoubtedly right.
“Mermaids don’t stand,” he pointed out.
Another low chuckle greeted his words. “Well, she’d probably float by them, then.” She stepped away from the battlements. “I’d best return to the castle. But you take your time up here. It’s a good place to think.”
Without another word, she moved away, her steps graceful. Heath turned his attention back to the vista before him. The conversation had certainly given him a lot to think about. Was it possible that Merletta was alive?
It took very little thought to convince him that his grandmother was right about one thing. He would never be fully at peace until he confirmed it one way or the other.
It seemed it was time to communicate with Reka again after all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
By the time they finished dinner on her first night back in the Center, Merletta could see that Sage was as on edge as she was. It had probably been cruel to tell her friend she had big news so long before they actually had the opportunity to talk. But she was still nervous about putting Sage at risk, not just with her information, but by pulling her off somewhere away from crowds.
But that was ridiculous, she told herself firmly. Sage wasn’t just a trainee, she was a legacy applicant—her mother was a record holder as well. People would notice if someone attacked her. She wasn’t as vulnerable as Merletta.
The thought stirred something in Merletta’s mind, but she didn’t have leisure to pursue it. The dining hall was beginning to empty, and Sage was looking at her meaningfully. She gave a tight nod, and they rose into the water together. Andre, the new trainee, showed signs of wanting to hover, so they headed for the girls’ barracks, where no reason would need to be given for why he couldn’t follow them.
But of course they couldn’t really speak freely in their sleeping quarters. Lorraine shared their room, and she was drifting along not far ahead of them. When she was satisfied that Andre had gone elsewhere, Sage tugged on Merletta’s arm, tilting her head toward the darkening streets.
They swam through the gloom, and Merletta quickly realized that Sage was leading her to a nearby coral garden. She did a quick circuit of the area, satisfying herself that no one else was there, before settling on a stone bench next to her friend.
“No one’s likely to interrupt us here after dark,” Sage said quietly. “This is more of a daytime garden.”
She was right. They were enfolded in darkness, the only light coming from jellyfish lanterns set at the entrances to the garden. It was no great barrier to their mermaid eyes, but it created a sense of privacy. In the distance, Merletta could see the ubiquitous plankton lanterns casting their soft glow around the quietening streets, but the garden itself was fading away into a purplish black. It hadn’t been cultivated for night enjoyment, like some of the gardens had. There were no bioluminescent species of coral to attract night wanderers to sit or swim between the orderly rows.