Izar’s jaw clenched. How dare Osmundea accuse Antares? Yes, she knew both Antares’s name and Tang’s; yes, her name started with O, as did that of the author of the elixir note in his satchel; yes, the single line on the parchment precisely matched the words she’d just spoken; yes, the two halves of the shell fit together like the two halves of a coin; yes, her scar was a direct extension of his own; yes, Izar’s being a hummer would explain his transformation from a human to a merman; yes, Izar’s resemblance to her was uncanny, with the indigo eyes and tail; yes, the dates she mentioned aligned with his own, but she could not possibly be his mother, for the man she described—a murderer, an abductor—could not possibly be his father.
Izar rose abruptly and started to shift to the door, but he found himself so disoriented by the conversation that he stopped to lean against the mantel. A pretty piece of ivory parchment with cursive gold writing caught his eye. He read it absentmindedly:
The Elnaths and the Costarias request the pleasure of your presence,
along with your family,
at the engagement party of Ecklon Elnath and Coralline Costaria,
at noon on the fifteenth of July in the garden of the Elnath Mansion;
and, pursuant, their wedding two weeks after,
at noon on the twenty-ninth of July at Kelp Cove;
please confirm your attendance as soon as possible,
by scroll to either the Elnath or Costaria home in Urchin Grove.
Coralline Costaria, in Urchin Grove; it could not be his Coralline, could it? He tried to ask Osmundea, but he could not speak: His tongue flopped helplessly against the roof of his mouth, as loose as jelly.
“My sister, Rhodomela, invited me to Coralline’s engagement party and wedding,” Osmundea explained.
Rhodomela, Coralline’s former boss. That meant this wedding invitation was for his Coralline. Izar’s hands shook so violently that it took him long minutes to extract the merman’s portrait from within Coralline’s notepad. He handed it to Osmundea without a word.
“Yes, this is the merman she will wed—Ecklon,” she said, startled. “But how do you have this?”
The twenty-ninth of July was a week away. Coralline was going to marry Ecklon then. His Coralline was going to marry someone else.
A small sand-clock stood on the mantel, white sand trickling from its upper to lower ampoule through a narrow neck. Izar bent his head to read the horizontal lines engraved into the hourglass. His eyes widened. The time was almost two; he’d promised Coralline he’d return to her before noon. He bolted out the door.
When her sobs dwindled to hiccups, when her face became squashed in her pillow—only then did Coralline turn over onto her back. She stared unseeingly at the ceiling.
The men on the ship the day of the black poison spill—Izar must have been one of them. And she hadn’t stopped to think about it before now, but Izar had blanched when she’d shown him the pen engraved with the name Zaurak Alphard—he must know the man.
As a human, Izar was the enemy generally; what the card in her hand showed was that he was also the enemy specifically. It was because of him that her father’s hand was severed, and her brother lay on his deathbed.
All along, Izar had played a game with her in order to trick her for the elixir. Everything he’d done—rescuing her from the two brothers in Bristled Bed and Breakfast, dancing with her at the Ball, accompanying her into the darkness of the deep sea—was so that he could obtain the elixir. Last night, when he’d told her that he wanted her to have the elixir, it was so that she would loosen her guard about it, perhaps also so that she would sleep with him—as she had. He had probably planned to steal the elixir from her this morning, but he hadn’t needed to—she had placed it in the palm of his hand.
Coralline glanced at the sand-clock. The time was half past two in the afternoon. He would not return.
She turned to Pavonis, Altair, and Nacre, lingering together at the window, watching her. “I’m sorry to have let you down,” she said, “especially after all of you risked your lives to accompany me on this Elixir Expedition.”
“It’s not your fault you have no sense,” Nacre said with a sigh.
“If I ever see that despicable specimen again,” Pavonis growled, “no force on earth will prevent me from crushing him against the seabed!”
“I’m just glad we’re going home,” Altair said. “I can’t wait to return to my Kuda.”
How wonderfully simple it was between Altair and Kuda, Coralline thought. They would remain a pair until the day they died. Not for a moment before would either falter. And if one of them died before the other, the survivor would not seek a new mate. The word betrayal did not exist for seahorses.
A knock sounded at the front door, to the other side of the Telescope Tower.
“I’ll see who’s at the door,” Pavonis said. “If it’s constables, I’ll make a lot of noise, both to alert you and distract them. Once you hear me, escape out the window with Altair and Nacre, and I’ll come find you later. Understand?”
Coralline nodded, and Pavonis left. She crept out of bed and shifted to the window, her fingers grasping the windowsill nervously. “Coralline!” Pavonis called, from the front of the Telescope Tower. “You’ll never guess who it is.”
Her eyes widened. Izar, it had to be. He was late, but he had returned to her—with the elixir she’d given him for safe-keeping! She darted out her window, in through the living room window two stories below, and pulled the front door open.
The merman at the door had a silver tail, and his hair was the shade of pebbled sand. Dimples carved sudden triangles into his cheeks. Ecklon.
She did not know who moved first, but before she could draw her next breath, they were in each other’s arms, and he was twirling her in circle upon circle. They held each other so tightly that she thought her ribs might crack, but she didn’t care—Ecklon had come for her; halfway across Meristem, he had found her.
When they stopped twirling, Coralline peered into his silver-gray eyes. She had been upset with him about something in the last few days; what was it? . . . It came to her with such force that her voice turned harsh: “Are you betraying me with Rosette?”
“Of course not. What would give you such a ridiculous idea?”
He was telling the truth, Coralline knew, because he was looking directly in her eyes. Her stomach dropped to the level of her tailfin, and she suddenly felt as sick as though she’d caught Venant’s flu. She sagged against his chest, in part from weakness and in part so that he could not see her face.
Sage Dahlia Delaisi had been wrong. Ecklon was not betraying her. But Coralline had betrayed him.
Her head lifted cautiously from his chest. His silver-gray eyes were not looking at her, but were staring past her into the living room of the Telescope Tower, through the door Coralline had left open. “Where is he?” Ecklon demanded, a hard rim to his pupils.
“Who?” Coralline asked in a small voice.
“Venant Veritate,” he said, his gaze returning to her. “This is his home, is it not? I’d like to meet him.”
Of course. Ecklon admired Venant’s work just as much as she, having memorized whole passages from The Universe Demystified.