I gritted my teeth, settled in for a miserable day. But much to my surprise, we settled into conversation—real conversation—pretty quickly as we debated the merits of different plans. Kenji, big surprise, wanted to go after his lands first. He made a persuasive argument: Tiamat had taken over his people and if we could hit her first, before the others knew to be on alert, we could end this thing early. After all, she was in charge. If we got to her right away, then there was the chance that the others wouldn’t fight.
While I understood where he was coming from, I disagreed. Not necessarily with hitting Tiamat first, but with the idea that when we went for the others, tried to reclaim our territories, things would fall apart for everyone else without Tiamat around to pull the strings. I remembered Sabyn talking about Coral Straits, about how he was settling in, claiming it, with or without Tiamat. He was dug in for the long term, and I didn’t think even his girlfriend’s death would be enough to shake him out.
Which is why, Dimitri said, we needed to hit them all at once. A massive blitz attack that they weren’t prepared for. One that would take out each of our opponents at the same time and allow us to reclaim our territories. I liked that idea a lot, but Vikram was quick to point out that a massive strike like that required a massive amount of soldiers and firepower, something we were definitely lacking. We had approximately two thousand mercreatures on the island with us, but some of them were old, some were too young. A bunch, while the right age and loyal, had never been trained for combat.
“We’d better get to training them, then,” I argued. “I’m not saying we’ll turn them into incredible fighting machines, but no matter what, they should be able to defend themselves, for no other reason than if Tiamat or one of her minions decides to attack this place.”
“And if Tiamat turns their loyalties?” Kenji demanded.
“If Tiamat turns them,” I said, “then we have bigger problems than taking back our territories. These people came with you. They showed loyalty and courage in fleeing the sea witch or the Leviathan or whoever came for your territory. You do them a disservice by not standing with them now. They trusted you enough to flee with you when it would have been easier, much easier, to stay and swear fealty to a new leader. Trust in that. Trust in them.”
They all looked thoughtful after I spoke, like they agreed with what I was saying. Except for Kenji, who said snidely, “Why should we believe you when your own people don’t? Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you the only leader here who didn’t bring followers with her? Except, of course, for that sweet little errand girl who just left here.”
“Back off, Kenji,” Kona growled.
I put a hand on his arm in the universal gesture of I-Can-Handle-This. After all, Kenji was right—my people had turned against me. They’d chosen Sabyn over me, and more than once today, I’d wondered if I was doing them a disservice by trying to get him out. If they really wanted him, really thought he was the best merleader, then I should step aside. Let them have him. Then again, I was terrified that it was only a matter of time before he turned on them the way he’d turned on me. That I couldn’t allow to happen.
But if I wanted to avoid it, I had to be careful. We couldn’t just rush in there and hope for the best, as Dimitri was suggesting. There could be no test runs, no preliminary attacks like Vikram wanted. Sabyn was more than capable of cutting off his nose to spite his face, and I refused to give him any reason to hurt the people I had come to care for and feel responsible for. Besides, doing that was basically sending people in to be slaughtered. This wasn’t chess. I wasn’t up for sacrificing pawns just to get the king.
Kona, however, refused to listen to caution, or even my determination to do things slowly. He agreed with Dimitri, wanted a full-scale blitz. And no matter how much I talked or reasoned, he wouldn’t back down. It wasn’t long before we were going head to head, each of us determined to get the other to see his or her point of view.
It was Kenji who finally called a halt to the in-fighting. “Look, it’s late. We’re not getting anywhere,” he told us. “Why don’t we call it quits, go get some dinner and come back to this discussion tomorrow when we’ve all had time to think.”
“So that my people can spend another night under the Leviathan’s rule?” Kona demanded.
Kenji just stared him down. “They would anyway. Even if you got your way in this, none of us is jetting off tonight to take care of this. So chill out. If you want to free them, we’ve got to get the right plan together.”
I couldn’t believe that Kenji was the voice of reason here, but I wanted to cheer his little speech. Kona was dangerously close to spinning out of control and Kenji had delivered just the kick in the butt to get him back in line.
But Kona was right about one thing. We were running out of time and running out of options to discuss. Sooner or later we would have to pick a plan and stick by it. The only problem was, for the first time since I’d met him, I wasn’t sure I could follow Kona. If he chose the wrong plan, I would have to be strong enough to stand against him. To defy him.
Kona had never taken defiance very well and now, in this, I was afraid telling him no would destroy the fragile ties of our friendship once and for all.
But what could I do? Go along with a plan that I believed would get all of us killed, even if it freed his people?
I wasn’t hungry, so I stayed on the beach while everyone else went up to dinner. I was tired of talking, tired of thinking strategy. I wanted a break where I could just veg, where my battered body could relax and just be.
Stretching out on the sand, I pillowed my head on my bent arms and stared up at the stars. It was strange for a mermaid, I knew, but I had a habit of looking to the stars to calm me down. To help me figure out a problem. It was a habit my dad had helped me cultivate at an early age and one Mark let me indulge in whenever we were on the beach at night. I couldn’t begin to guess how many hours I’d spent staring at the sky, playing connect the dots as I made order from chaos—in the heavens and in my own life.
I felt a little twinge—okay, a big twinge—as I thought of Mark and my family. Just the idea of them was a fist to the gut, and I fought the urge to curl into a ball and weep. I’d done more than enough of that in the last few weeks. Now was the time for action. For resolve.
I found Andromeda in the sky right above me, panned over until I found Pegasus and had connected all of his dots. Then moved way down to Cassiopeia. It was amazing how close they were, how different the sky above this tiny island looked from the sky above my house in La Jolla. Then again, I don’t know why I was surprised. Everything else about my life was different here. Why not the stars and sky as well?
I shut that train of thought down quickly as I dotted my way over to Perseus. No crying also meant no self-pity. Besides, the point of this exercise was not to think. Not only was I thinking right now, I was wallowing.
Frustrated with myself and the whole world, I shoved to my feet. If I couldn’t stargaze my pain and worry away, maybe a night hike around the island would do the trick. I’d gone only a couple of steps, though, when something broke through the water.
I whirled around and prepared to blast whoever it was to hell and back when I realized it was the subbloon. Mahina had returned.