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There were no words to describe the release she’d felt at seeing him. Not just because finding out that he was alive lifted one of the crushing weights of guilt she’d been carrying. Almost as exhilarating was the relief of finally being able to tell someone everything, without doubt about their trustworthiness, and without fear of the consequences to them. She’d always been able to speak freely to Heath, and she’d never needed his listening ear more.
And he’d invited her to come and live in his kingdom!
But it was better not to think about that. Too many conflicting emotions. It was a tantalizing offer, and she couldn’t deny to herself that she’d been tempted. But quite apart from the fact that she couldn’t abandon Sage, and Tish, and everyone, she could still see his eager face as he said it.
No one would have to know you were a mermaid.
She knew he meant well, but his words had sent a pang of grief through her heart. She was fooling herself to think that her impossible legs made her a human. She was still a mermaid—the sea would always call to her. She didn’t think she could maintain the pretense of being human all the time, and she didn’t even want to.
She shook the thought from her mind, trying to pay attention to Andre’s chatter about his day off with his family. Reading between the lines, it sounded like he’d spent most of the day boasting to his parents about how well he was doing in combat class. Merletta and Sage exchanged indulgent smiles.
“I’ll be seeing them again tomorrow,” he added, his face suddenly dropping into more serious lines.
“Why?” Merletta asked curiously.
Andre lifted one shoulder slightly. “They’re having a public memorial for the guards who died from the land sickness. I’ve told Father that I’ll come. I’m hoping Instructor Wivell will give me special leave.”
“I’m sure he will,” Sage said gently.
Merletta couldn’t find anything to say. Her stomach was churning with the usual horrible guilt. Heath had been kind to say it wasn’t her fault, but she didn’t set much store by the reassurance. It was like him to try to make her feel better, but he wasn’t really one to talk. Hadn’t he admitted that he’d been consumed with guilt over her drying out? And that hadn’t been his fault.
She wondered if she should try to get leave to attend the memorial as well. She’d done nothing further toward her vow to find out what had happened to the guards, and the event might be a good opportunity to do some sifting. It would be illuminating to hear the official story of what had happened. Surely whoever was responsible for spreading the tale about land sickness was also responsible for the guards’ deaths.
As it happened, neither Merletta nor Andre had any need to get special leave. In the first lesson of the day, Wivell announced in a somber tone that they were all to attend the memorial at dawn the following day.
They were therefore all up before the sun. It wasn’t yet the normal breakfast hour, but a number of other Center dwellers were attending the memorial, too, so special breakfast arrangements had been made. Merletta filed behind the other trainees to collect her shell of boiled fish. It had presumably been cooked over a thermal vent nearby, because it tasted fresh. The trainees sat at their usual table in a subdued mood, eating quickly and not talking much.
“I don’t think I’ve had this type of fish before,” Merletta commented, trying to break the tension. “I don’t even recognize it.”
She saw Oliver’s lip curl as he looked at her bowl, but she ignored him. She had long ago become used to the derision of the Hemssted trainee at any display of her ignorance.
Andre peered into her shell. “Looks like some kind of bream.”
Merletta smiled her thanks, but he’d already bent over his food again, his crimson tail passing slowly back and forth through the water. He was surely thinking of his father’s friend. The familiar churning started in her stomach and she said no more, putting aside her barely eaten fish.
The patrol had been made up of Skulssted guards, so the memorial was held in the wealthiest of the cities. The trainees made their way into Skulssted in a block, accompanied by both Wivell and Ibsen. Agner, they were told, would be traveling with the guards.
They had almost reached the site of the memorial—a public square considerably larger than the one where Emil had teased Sage—when Andre pulled to a sudden stop, and sprang into a salute.
Following his gaze, Merletta saw a burly merman, looking to be about fifty, swimming up behind them. He wore the sash of a Skulssted guard, and was flanked by two younger guards.
He paused as he drew level with them, exchanging a quick word with Instructor Wivell.
“That’s my father’s superior,” muttered Andre to Merletta and Sage. “The head guard of Skulssted.”
Merletta regarded the merman before her with interest. This was the one who’d told Andre’s father that August and the others were dead, but hadn’t allowed them to see the bodies. She’d wondered how to get the chance to speak with him, and here he was before her.
The head guard’s gaze passed to the trainees, and Merletta saw a hint of recognition as his eyes rested on Andre.
“A sad day,” he said gravely.
“Yes, sir,” Andre said, dipping his head respectfully.
“We appreciate you stopping classes to allow the trainees to attend,” the guard said, looking back at Wivell.
“Of course,” said Wivell. “We wish to pay our respects.”
“We all do,” Merletta interjected, and everyone’s eyes snapped to her.
