“Lily cured me,” Doe says, appearing in my open doorway and saving me from explaining. She spoons a bite of key lime yogurt into her mouth.
“Did she?” Daddy asks.
“I’m bonded to Brody,” Doe says with a little sass. As if expecting an argument, and total y ready for it. She licks her spoon. “Permanently. I love him.”
I think Doe and I are both shocked at Daddy’s response.
“Huh,” he says, pul ing his mouth into a considering look.
“Interesting.”
That’s it? Interesting?
Maybe Daddy’s losing it in his old age.
“Lily, why don’t you go make your phone cal ,” he says, not taking his eyes off Doe. “I’l be down in a moment.” Maybe he’s not losing it. He just doesn’t want to scold her in front of me. Sorry, Doe. She hands me her empty yogurt container and spoon as I pass by, and I lose a little of my sympathy.
“Okay,” I say, hurrying into the hal before the yel ing match begins. I just hope I don’t get any of the leftover wrath for not performing the separation ritual as agreed.
Twenty minutes later, Aunt Rachel is waving good-bye to us at Seaview Beach, and Daddy and I are heading into the waves. Despite al the looming craziness—my bal gown, the party details, the party, the title renunciation ritual—al I can think about is the hope that Quince wil be home when I get back.
My first birthday wish is coming true. Now I know what wish I’l be making over my underwater birthday cake.
Chapter 15
ou look…” I sense Peri moving away from me.
Y“Breathtaking. Open your eyes.”
When they performed the final fitting on Sunday night, Peri and her mom kept me blindfolded so I couldn’t see what the dress looked like. Now, less than an hour before my party, Peri has dressed me with my eyes closed.
The anticipation is kil ing me.
My first sight of the dress—of me in the dress—nearly knocks my breath away. Though I knew vaguely what the dress would look like from the pattern mock-up they pinned to me last week, the final product is so far beyond anything I could have imagined that I am completely stunned.
The halter top has a deep plunging V that, while reaching almost to my navel, manages to be completely modest.
From the waist, the skirt hugs the curves of my tail fin to the knee joint, before flaring out into a reverse-V hem. Dozens of ruffled layers fluff out the skirt in a mil ion shades of green with subtle hints of gold.
I recognize the petticoat fabric. It’s the cloth Peri was working on when I came home last week.
In the back, the hem trails off into a point several feet longer than my fin. The tail waves gently back and forth behind me in the soft current of the Gulf Stream.
And the best part? The body of the dress is a magical shade of gold. At this moment it perfectly matches the tear-glittered shade of my eyes.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “The dress is amazing.”
“Mom and I knew we needed something extra special,” Peri explains, “for your last gown as a royal princess.” If my eyes hadn’t already been glittering with tears, they would be now. Not because I’m sad, but because my life is about to change. Permanently. In a few short hours I wil no longer be Princess Waterlily. I’l be plain old Lily Sanderson, insignificant daughter of the king.
It’s a choice I’ve happily made, but that doesn’t mean the change is easy to accept.
“Come on,” Peri says, fussing with the green ruffles of my hem, “let’s get down to that party. I’ve heard the birthday girl is a total diva.”
We’re stil giggling as we swim up to the private entrance to the royal bal room. Mangrove, Daddy’s trusted secretary, is guarding the door. Ready to announce my arrival.
“You look beautiful, Princess,” he says, bending low over his fin.
“Thank you, Mangrove,” I reply dutiful y.
His hand on the door, he asks, “Shal I announce your arrival?”
After a quick shared look with Peri, I nod.
He pul s the door open wide, swims into the room, and using his most ceremonial voice, bel ows, “Princess Waterlily.”
A hush fal s across the bal room.
I force myself not to think about the last time I entered the royal bal room on a wave of silent anticipation—Quince-related memories wil only make me cry more at this point.
Instead, I focus on the crowd, on hundreds of merfolk dressed in their finest apparel, and on the bal room. The ceiling covered in gold and green seaweed streamers, six different buffet tables of the most mouthwatering delicacies in the ocean, a school of lightning-bug fish—a uniquely Thalassinian species—swimming amid the streamers, making the ceiling twinkle with their flashing lights. It’s every mergirl’s dream. The only thing that could have made it more perfect would be if—
No, I can’t think about him right now. For the next few hours I need to be Princess Waterlily, not Princess Waterpot. I want my last moments as a royal princess to be proud ones. They’l have to last me a lifetime.
“Happy birthday, daughter,” Daddy says, sweeping me into a massive hug and—thankful y—saving me from a Quince-related thought.
“Thank you, Daddy,” I say, hugging him back. “It’s beautiful.”
A mergirl’s eighteenth birthday is supposed to be the most magical day of her life. She is official y an adult, as far as the mer world is concerned, and al of her family and friends join in the celebration.