The smile on my face slows and stops altogether as I spot the familiar critical look in his eyes. I sigh. Speio and I used to be so close, but lately, everything I do seems to piss him off—field hockey, my friends, school, all of it. I can’t do anything right, and it’s getting to the point that he’s becoming the nagging older brother everyone assumes he is. I know he means well. After all, his parents are tasked with keeping me safe, but it’s not like that’s his job.
“We need to talk,” he says, and grabs my arm to pull me to a bench across the street. He’s barely six months older than I am, but he’s strong and his fingers dig painfully into my upper arms.
“Ouch,” I mutter, pulling away and rubbing my already reddening skin. “What the hell, Speio?”
“What do you think you’re doing?” he says in a low voice.
“What? You mean the game?” I can hear the defensive tone in my own voice as he nods. If Speio called the shots, I would be the kid who sits in the back row at school and never answers any questions or sits in the library all day...under a protective tarp in flame-resistant gear. “You followed me to the game at Bishop’s?”
“I have to keep an eye on you,” he says. “And I saw you. I saw what you did at the end with the three defenders.”
“What did I do, Speio? Move a shade faster than normal?” I say as a wave of irritation replaces my earlier defensiveness. “Besides, what does it matter? Your parents are Handlers here. Not you. You don’t have to watch me every ten seconds!”
Speio flinches as if I’ve struck him, but then brushes it off. “I just don’t get it. Why do you try so hard to be like them?”
The soft comment strikes an unexpected nerve. “You know why, Speio,” I snap more harshly than I intend. “I have to fit in.”
My words are sharp but true. I’ve spent almost my whole life studying the other side, trying to understand humans and learn everything I could about them. And now, living here as a human, I’ve had to put theory into practice. As a student, I’ve absorbed everything academic they’ve thrown at me. As an athlete, I’ve enjoyed all the games, using my legs to run and my arms to swing a stick—things I’d never before experienced. Here, I’ve felt free for the first time in my life. Unfettered with who I am.
Now, a year after my father’s cryptic message, it seems that I’m only delaying the inevitable—facing what is left of my legacy. The truth is, I don’t want to think about any of it. So I’ll pretend that what I’m doing is still the same, until someone tells me it’s time to go back. And if that day never comes, maybe I’m fine with that, too. I’d rather be here, pretending to be young and carefree, instead of there, where everyone will look to me for the answers I don’t have.
My family’s legacy and my royal duty.
Speio stares at me. “But that’s just it. You don’t have to, because we don’t belong here. We’ve been here three years already, and you don’t even talk about going back. Waterfell’s your home. You have everything there, can’t you see that?”
Not anymore. I shake my head firmly. I may have been born in Waterfell, but my father was clear that I should never return—someone else was the ruler of our undersea home now. I grit my teeth, raising cold eyes to Speio. “I’m here to learn—this is part of my initiation cycle. You know that. And until I come of age to rule, we stay.”
“And then what?” Speio presses. “We go back? You won’t even talk about going back, and that’s what scares me. Because you don’t want to go back, do you?” His eyes widen at my expression. “That’s the truth, isn’t it? I can see it written all over your face when you’re with the humans. But you’re not them. Don’t you get that?”
My blood rushes in a slow surge at his rising tone. “Careful, Speio,” I tell him.
“Why?” he shoots back. “For being honest? You’re so selfish, Nerissa.”
“I’m selfish?” I repeat carefully, unable to keep the anger from seeping into my voice. Speio is only here because his parents, Echlios and Soren—both Handlers—are sworn to safeguard me. There’s nothing he can say that will make them break their blood oaths. It’s a fact, but still, something in his last words sneaks under my skin, unsettling me. Maybe because there’s truth in what he says or maybe I’m still rattled from Jenna’s accusations on the field. “Why am I selfish?”
“Because this is all about you,” he says. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”
I glare at him, a thousand fiery emotions running through my brain. “It is about me. And yes, I’m the one who’s decided to stay here. But you’re free to go back if that’s what you want. Go, and be one with the home none of us have anymore.” Speio’s eyes widen, but I don’t stop. My words slow and become more enunciated, exhibiting the fact that English is not my native tongue. I hate the way the words taste in my mouth, so clipped and guttural. I also hate the way the commands come so quickly to me as if being a ruler is an inborn trait.
Because it is.
No matter what I look like, I can never escape who I am.
So I become the monarch. I become the royal with the clipped tones and the icy, immovable face. “You weren’t told because I didn’t want you to know. We don’t have a home anymore, Speio. The Gold Court is finished. Wake up.” He flinches at the cruel whip of my words. “We’re never going home. Do you understand that? We have nothing to go home to.” I gesture madly to the people walking around us and to the school behind me. “This is our home now. Accept it.”
“But you’re—”
“But nothing. I’m nobody.” I lower my voice, forcing a smile to my lips even though all I want to do is scream...scream all the pain and anger and loss seething through me at his naïveté. Speio’s expression is scared and confused. I gentle my voice. “Ask your parents. Get them to tell you the truth.” I pause and press my hand to his shoulder in a comforting gesture, an apology of sorts, but he shakes my arm off like it’s a snake. “Tell them that I commanded it.”
I walk across the parking lot without looking back, and jump into my car. My hands are trembling with emotion and my throat is dry like sandpaper. I gulp and lean my head against the cool window, heaving breaths into my lungs, hoping to staunch the tide of helpless anger that’s threatening to overwhelm me. But it’s too late. I need to get out of there before I do something ridiculous like throw up all over the floor of my Jeep. Flooring the gas pedal, my tires burn a black path across the asphalt as I peal out of the lot, gasping for air and heading blindly for the shoreline. I need to get to the ocean.
The drive seems endless even though it’s only a few minutes before I see blue on the horizon. Then I’m out of the car and running on the sand as fast as my legs can take me despite my exhaustion from the earlier hockey game. I don’t care. If I stop, I’ll break...I’ll collapse and never be able to get back up. My face is wet as the taste of salt dips into my mouth, making me ache even more. Driven by pain, my vision spirals into the raw memory.
Days after my father’s warning, Speio’s father, Echlios, came back from a brief trip to Waterfell to see me. He was different that day. I’d never seen a Handler express emotion, but he did. He repeated exactly what my father had told me, but I already knew. My father never would have risked contacting me otherwise.
“Your father is dead,” he said. “The High Court has been taken by Ehmora.”
“Ehmora?”
Echlios nodded. I wasn’t surprised. Queen of the lower Ruby Court, she belonged to one of the stronger families, always opposing my parents, always scheming to replace the Gold Court