“No, of course not,” I say, giving Calliope a meaningful look.
“No, no,” she says. “I can tell you that of the three tests, one will challenge you physically, one will challenge you mentally . . .”
“And the third?” Quince asks.
“The third will challenge you emotionally.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“It will test the strength of your love.” Calliope gives us a brilliant smile. “And after having worked with you both before, I am sure that will be the easiest of the three.”
Quince squeezes my hand. “No problems there.”
He’s taking this really well, and maybe that’s because he doesn’t yet understand how difficult these tests will be. There’s no point in worrying him now. He’ll find out eventually, when the instructions come. And either he’ll handle them . . . or he won’t. There’s nothing we can do about it now.
I refuse to even consider the possibility of failure.
Calliope gets up from her chair. “I should return to the kingdom. I’ll leave you two to discuss things.” She lifts her tote bag onto her shoulder and reaches in to dig something out. “I am quite sure you will meet the Trial of Truth without difficulty,” she says, and I hope Quince doesn’t notice the waver in her voice, “but should you need anything—anything at all—you can send for me.”
She pulls out a small yellow scroll of kelpaper and hands it to Quince.
Yellow kelpaper for an urgent message.
“Simply call a messenger gull and give it this,” she explains. “I will help in any way I can.”
Quince thanks her, and she gives him a quick hug. I give her a longer hug. I’m not sure how much help she can be when the tests begin, but I’m glad to have her on our side.
After we say good-bye, Quince turns to me. “Call a messenger gull?” he asks with a laugh. “How am I supposed to do that?”
“I’ll teach you,” I say, leaning forward to give him a quick, reassuring kiss. “It’s easy.”
He turns his attention to the map on the table. “You’re going somewhere?”
I’m not sure if he’s dismissing the trial as insignificant or trying not to think about it. I’m definitely in the second category.
“Yes,” I say, relieved to be talking about the other big concern in my life right now. “I’m going to visit the kingdoms in the region.”
I give him a quick rundown of my plan, how I need to gather information about the scope of the problem so I can garner support—in writing—for a joint effort to address the environmental concerns in the oceans and the mer world. So the kingdoms don’t feel like they have to face it all alone.
“Sounds like a great plan,” he says.
“I think so too,” I reply. “I’m just not sure how to start. Calliope thinks I should talk to the nearest kingdoms first, get as many on board as quickly as possible.”
“But Doe thinks you should start at the top and work down from there.”
“Exactly.” I stare helplessly at the map. After going around in circles with Doe’s, Calliope’s, and occasionally Shannen’s input, I feel completely lost.
“What if the top dog won’t play?” he asks.
I look up, wondering what he means.
“What if you go all the way up to the ice kingdom,” he says, tracing the journey along the east coast, up to Glacialis, “and the queen says no?”
“That would be terrible,” I say. “It would be so much harder to get other rulers to cooperate after that. She is highly respected.”
And a little feared. I saw her power firsthand in the council meeting. She left, and the others followed. Few would actively go against her if she took a stand opposing my plan.
“What if one or two of the little dogs say no?” He draws a big circle with his finger, encompassing the kingdoms nearest Thalassinia. “What happens then?”
I shrug, beginning to see his point. “If some of them say no, then it will be disappointing.”
“But not devastating?” Quince twists his mouth and shrugs at me, as if to say “Then that’s where you should start.”
“Plus,” I continue, feeling like I am finally coming to a decision, “it will be easier to convince the smaller, less powerful kingdoms to join in the effort because they are the least equipped to deal with the problems. They should want to cooperate more.”
“Sounds like you know what you need to do, then,” he says.
I nod, grabbing the wax pencil that has rolled to the edge of the map.
“I’ll start here,” I say, drawing a red circle around Trigonum, Desfleurelle, and Antillenes—Thalassinia and Acropora’s nearest neighbors. “With luck and a current boost from Daddy’s trident, I can get to all three kingdoms this weekend.”
If I can harness my new power, that will speed up the trip even more.
Quince leans in over the map, studying, and I think he’s going to ask me something about the kingdoms or my plan or Daddy’s trident.
Instead, without taking his eyes off the map, he asks, “What happens if I fail?”
“What?” I whisper.
“If I don’t pass the three tests,” he says. “What’s the consequence?”
I suck in a shaky breath. This is the part I didn’t want to talk about, the part I hoped he wouldn’t ask about. But I guess he’s too clever—or has learned too much about how mer-world magic works—to assume there won’t be a price.