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Prologue
Daphne, Age 6
I knew two things: I hated lettuce and I really, really loved fish.
Lettuce was slimy and gross and the worst shade of green.
Fish were cool and colorful and there were so many different types of them.
All I wanted was to go see some of the fish outside. To the water. We were underwater but I could breathe just fine. I didn’t really know how that worked. But it was okay, because instead of the birds that would fly past my bedroom window, there were fish swimming outside this one.
But I couldn’t go see them, because my mom and dad said I had to go to this dinner. I tried not to move my food around with my fork—my mom said that wasn’t polite—but everyone was talking about stuff I didn’t really understand.
I was the only child at the table except for another boy sitting across from me. He looked a little older than me, maybe ten. As much as someone canlookten. I didn’t know if I looked six. No one ever really said anything about the way I looked.
I was really trying to sit still, I was. At least the boy looked equally as bored. He was stabbing lettuce with his knife but not eating it. And he was looking at the flimsy ones with a scrunched nose. See,hethought lettuce was gross too. I wanted to tell my dad, but he was talking to the boy’s dad.
My eyes drifted back toward the water outside, watching the fish and dolphins and sharks and other animals swim around the shelf the palace was built on. It was mesmerizing, watching them all swim, some together and some alone.
Much more interesting than having to try to keep up with a conversation I didn’t understand.
I watched them for a while, until my body jolted to the side. My mom had poked me in the ribs, which meant I made a mistake.
I looked at her, her face tight, but perfect, her ice blonde hair twisted up behind her head. She said, “Lord Poseidon asked how old you are, Daphne.”
Oh. I tried not to feel embarrassed. I looked at the older man, who had deep tan skin and dark brown, shoulder length hair. He had a kind smile, though, and that made me feel a little bit better.
I tucked my hair behind my ear. A nervous habit my mother hated. “I’m six.”
He smiled wider and I felt even better. “My son here,” he said, pointing to the boy across from me, who looked exactly like him except for the blue eyes his mother had, “is ten years old.”
I let myself smile a little. I knew he looked ten.
“Do you like it here?” he asked, moving a large hand around the room.
I nodded. “Yes, all of the fish are really cool.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. I was pretty sure that meant he was genuinely happy. “I’m glad you think so. Do you like whales, too?”
I brightened. “I do! They are big and a little scary but I like them. I like how they don’t eat fish.”
“They do actually,” he said. “Just really, really small ones. Sometimes shrimp and things like that, too.”
“That’s really cool!” I was smiling, I could feel it. “Do you have a favorite type of fish? Mine is the—”
“Daphne,” my mother snapped. Her tone was mean, but she was smiling. I wasn’t exactly sure what that combination meant, but it sounded like I’d done something wrong. My smile dropped.
“Remember what I told you?” my mother asked.
No one wants to feel like they are stupid compared to a six-year-old.
“Let’s not do that to Lord Poseidon,” she finished, placing her fingers with its many rings on my hands where they were folded in my lap and squeezing.
But he was the one asking me, I wanted to argue, but I’d learned long ago it was better to just nod and agree.
I picked back up my fork and went to eat lettuce. Ew.
“Why don’t you go outside, sweetie,” my mother said into the silence at the table. “There are fish out there.”
