She scoffs. “I’m going to leave now. You’re going to stay right here.” She whirls them around in one fluid motion and backs away from him, toward the entrance. A tantalizing smirk curves her lips. “You must have bumped your head on the way in,” she says, tucking the hook behind her, probably into her braid. “To think that would work on me.”
Grom never takes his eyes off her. “And what do you think will work, pray tell?”
She shrugs. “I don’t suppose it matters much.” Nalia glances back at the stone tablet she was reading. “Since I don’t have a choice one way or the other.” Then she speeds away with such force that a swish of water slaps at his face in her wake.
When the length of her elegant fin disappears behind a bend in the cave, he glides over to the tablet. He could go after her. He could even call her bluff on the lionfish venom—she wouldn’t keep such a deadly threat tucked against her bare flesh. Or, he could let her bask in this small victory. Let her think he’s weak.
His eyes scan the tablet, but his attention is still overwhelmed by the memory of her. If she didn’t find what she was looking for here, then it’s not likely that he will either. Their future course is set. One day, they will be mated. It’s a battle neither of them can win. He knows it. She knows it.
But today, Nalia started a new battle. One that he’s intent on winning.
The one for her heart.
Grom finds his mother in her private chamber, right in the middle of her usual routine of caring for her human relics. She uses her finger to gently swipe off a layer of silt from a tall clear cylinder, which she claims the humans use to contain fire for light. After it’s spotless, she moves on to a small white box, her favorite of them all. “I can’t touch this one anymore,” she says without looking up. She puckers, then blows a gentle stream through the delicate flowers carved on the lid. A slight cloud of black wafts up, just before the surrounding water absorbs it. “Last time I chipped one of the small green pieces, see?”
Grom swims forward and squints, more in a show of interest than in actual interest. “Are you sure it wasn’t already like that? You did recover this from a wreck, after all.”
She bites her lip. “I’m sure. I cried when I did it.”
“You and your human treasures,” he says, not unkindly.
“Oh, not you too,” she says, waving her hand. “Do I not get enough complaints from your father? Is it so wrong to want to preserve beauty, even if it’s made from human hands?”
“Of course not,” Grom smiles. “Otherwise, the Cave of Memories would be outlawed. Besides, I didn’t come here to complain.”
“Excellent! I do get weary of having to defend myself. What can I do for you, my son?”
“It’s about Nalia.”
The queen groans. “Oh, Grom. You know that’s the one thing I can’t—”
“I want her for my mate,” he blurts.
“I…You do?” She clasps her hands together. “Because I was certain that you’d rather mate with a rockfish. In fact, I think you’ve said as much on several—”
“Things changed. She changed. But I want her to want me too.” Sort of. He wants her to want him, so he can reject her the way she rejected him. But that explanation won’t convince the queen to help him.
“Truly? Do you…do you love her, then?”
“No,” he says, even as he feels Nalia’s pulse thrum through him. Ever since their meeting in the Ceremony Chamber, he can’t shake it. Sometimes it’s light, almost like a phantom tickle, easily brushed aside. Other times it’s maddening, strong and intrusive, so that he can’t think of anything else but her. And apparently talking about her triggers the madness. He doesn’t like that. Not at all.
“Then why?” His mother’s lips press into a line.
Grom chuckles, hoping it doesn’t sound as fake as it feels. “Have you seen Nalia lately, mother?”
The queen gasps. “Are you shallow as a clam pool, boy?”
“Triton’s trident! Ever since she was born you and father have twisted my fin to accept her. Now you’re upset that I’m willing to mate with her. I do wish you’d make up your mind.”
His mother grimaces in obvious shame.
“Truth be told,” he says, almost choking on the words, “I think it’s more than love. I think it’s the pull.”
“The pull!” she says, gliding over to him. “Grom, are you sure? What makes you think so?”
Grom shrugs. He should have looked into the whole ridiculous legend further before going around spewing “the pull” all over the place. He has no idea of the supposed symptoms. And symptoms they are, since Grom has always considered the pull a mental defect, at best. The idea that nature could force a couple together in order to produce stronger offspring has always been nonsensical to him.
“Do you think about her all the time?” The queen’s eyes light up. “Do you always sense her, no matter how far apart you are?”
There is nothing fake about his scowl as he realizes he does. Not possible. It’s not possible that I actually do feel the pull for Nalia. He clears his throat. “Er…yes.” The words taste like squid ink in his mouth.