In the next instant there was a wild swirl of dozens of fins, and Luce found herself embraced on all sides.
“Luce! You figured it out! We stopped them!”
“They would have wiped us out if you hadn’t . . .”
“I was so worried when you told us your plan. I can’t believe it’s working!”
“It’s not just your singing. It’s how you think, too. You’re like a real general!”
“Hey, I haven’t met you yet, Luce. But I’m ex–Queen Eileen, and that was just awesome.”
Luce did her best to hug everyone back, trying not to cry. It was hard not to suspect that they were crazy to trust her this much.
Especially when she hadn’t even been honest with them, really. She hadn’t been lying, but she knew she’d been keeping too many secrets: about Seb, about the video . . .
And especially about what Seb had told her: that if she had anything to say, the humans might be ready to listen to her.
Even now that everything about mermaid life was changing—their whole world upended and the timahk hopelessly shattered—Luce couldn’t quite shake the sense that there were some things a mermaid just shouldn’t admit to doing. Talking to humans and saving them from the consequences of their own stupid behavior were both right at the top of the list. But Luce had never completely forgiven herself for lying to Dana about Dorian. She couldn’t make that mistake a second time.
“I’ve got some things I need to tell you,” Luce gasped out. Everyone fell silent almost instantly. Did they really think that what she had to say was so important? Luce told them the whole story: collapsing under that dock and swimming out the next day without caring that she might be seen, then her surprise at noticing a camera pointed at her. Rescuing Seb and everything he’d told her afterward.
There were a few shocked exclamations, a few sharply indrawn breaths, but at least no one told her off for behaving so dishonorably. Luce gazed around at them, wondering what they’d all say to her when the silence finally broke, and found that she could look at everyone except for Catarina. Cat was glaring at her with such obvious disappointment that Luce found it hard to meet her former queen’s eyes.
“Well, everything is different now,” Yuan said at last. “It actually makes sense strategically to try to get some humans on our side, right?” She sounded like she was arguing, though it wasn’t clear whom she was trying to convince.
“If Luce had saved someone who counted, I might have to agree with you,” Catarina announced. She spoke in a silky, disdainful tone that Luce hadn’t heard since the days when Cat was queen. “But saving a dirty vagrant like that, only because she felt sorry for him? What possible use is that to us? No, Luce is too impulsive, too thoughtless—”
“He made me think about submarines,” Luce pointed out, a little brusquely. “And talking with him gave me the idea about the bridge. You really think he’s supposed to do more than that?”
“And he’s why we know about the video too. If a lot of humans are already interested in Luce, then maybe they won’t like it that the government is trying to kill her. Cat, I have this feeling that we’re going to need all the help we can get, if any of us are going to survive . . .” Yuan had seemed so calm through all the craziness and violence that Luce was startled to hear the raw emotion surging in her voice.
“Look!” It was the mermaid who’d introduced herself as Eileen, pointing her freckled hand back in the direction of the bridge. “It looks like those humans are sending some guy over the side? What a weird thing to do!”
They all crowded together at the edge of the shadowed zone under the platform, watching while the cameraperson dropped in his harness. Luce realized that the camera would capture a beautiful image: the top of the standing wave leaped and fluttered, delicate wisps of foam spilling from its crest, while sheets of sunlight wavered on its flank.
“This is our chance!” Luce said, so suddenly that it took her a moment to realize what she’d meant.
“Our chance to do what, Luce?” Imani said softly just beside her, and Luce reached out and squeezed her shoulder.
“Our chance to talk to all of them,” Luce explained. All her joy rushed back at once. Maybe there was loss and terror and trouble all around them, but she suddenly felt absolutely certain that the Twice Lost Army was doing better than anyone could have dreamed possible.
“Talking to more humans? Luce, can’t you control yourself?” Catarina snapped.
“Talking to them is the whole point, Cat!” Luce’s tail gave an abrupt swirl of excitement, and she grinned around at everyone, almost quaking with the force of her inspiration. Now that she knew exactly what she needed to do, she wasn’t about to let Cat talk her out of it. “Hey, Imani? Do you think I could borrow your scarf for a few minutes?”
“Are you serious, Luce?” Imani asked. But her black eyes were gleaming with delight.
“One thing I know about Luce”—Yuan laughed—“if she says something that crazy, you better believe she means it!”
Almost everyone was giggling now, half-nervous and half- delirious. It was all just so different from anything mermaids had ever done before. It was strange to feel such happiness in the middle of a war, but Luce couldn’t stop herself from laughing along with the others in sheer astonishment at her own daring.
“Of course I’m serious,” Luce managed through her laughter. “I’m going to go up there and say hello. To every single human who’s watching this!”
Extraordinary as that night and morning had been, Luce thought that what came next was the most wondrous thing of all. And yet it was so simple: just the glow on Imani’s face as she reached back and untied her headscarf.
“Tell Pharaoh’s army I said hello too, okay?”
“If you want to, Imani,” Luce told her, “you can come up and tell them yourself.”
Luce launched herself into the heart of the rising wave.
She rose above San Francisco Bay, her view of it wrinkled and disturbed by the glassy curves passing in front of her eyes. Skyscrapers warped and shimmered to her right, glass panes glittering like fish scales. The power of the mermaids’ singing propelled her upward, and she had to use her tail only for balance. Tiny currents torqued and jarred around her, and she had to concentrate to keep herself from being flipped through complicated somersaults. She didn’t want the humans to get the impression that she was out of control in any way. So much depended on the coming moments, and she had to be strong and graceful and persuasive.
After all, she was there to represent the Twice Lost Army.
Luce twisted to a halt ten feet in front of the cameraperson, jouncing a little with the water’s irregular impulses. The man yelped and thrashed against his ropes as he caught sight of her. Luce couldn’t help grinning to herself at his eyes rounded into astonished Os, his legs kicking as he tried to run through empty air. Funny as his panic seemed, she felt enough compassion to wave the white scarf. She didn’t actually want him to be afraid of her.
In the widening sky behind him a dozen helicopters stuttered, but none of them appeared to be the heavy military helicopters that had attacked the night before. Luce looked again and saw that they were all pointing cameras of their own.
The cameraperson had stopped kicking and instead flopped weakly in his harness. But he wasn’t looking at the white scarf; his eyes were locked on her face. The hungry adoration in his gaze almost sent Luce diving back to her friends, but then she remembered why she was there. She tipped her upper body forward until the water-wall sliced open around her face. It felt sleek and cool, like bubbling silk against her cheeks. Her fins flicked continuously to hold her in place.