Page 51 of Depths
“Has anyone seen a Mr. Whelk?” Keelan demanded. “The thief has stolen my hat! Without my magic hat, I’ll never get the queen to marry me!”
Most of the children shook their heads. “Nope. Never seen him!”
“Are you sure?” Keelan raked a hand dramatically through his hair, which was still striped black and white on the side for Humberto. “I mean, have you seen our Queenie?”
A dozen eyes darted in my direction, and someone in the crowd whistled.
Keelan snapped his fingers and pointed. “Exactly. So I need that hat back!”
A little mer girl whose tail was as striped and vibrant as a rainbow, took pity on Keelan and opened a gap in the barrier. “You promise you’ll be nice?”
Keelan stuffed his hand over his heart. “I promise—ahh!” He shrieked and darted forward to seize the hat, but the turtle was too quick. He rose up high, and Keelan swam after him, stretching so he could finally get his hands on a corner of the misshapen hat.
Mr. Whelk and the siren climbed above all of us as a very elaborate game of tug-of-war began. It was clearly a game they played often because Mr. Whelk knew exactly when to turn his head in order to tug the hat out of Keelan’s golden grip. He also teased the poor siren by popping his head into his shell, dropping the hat and letting Keelan dive for it, only to pop out at the very last moment and scoop the hat up, to the shrieking delight of everyone in the crowd.
Keelan was better than a court jester.
I watched every eye in the crowd and in the parade itself turn toward him. He simply redoubled his efforts, growing more ridiculous. Eventually, the two ended up rolling through the water in a series of flips even Ugo couldn’t have managed. Keelan’s hand emerged with the hat—victorious. Then, my suitor stumble-swam toward me, dizzier than the day he was born.
He gave me a lopsided grin, and I couldn’t help but laugh as he swept his chewed-up, bedraggled hat down in front of him when he gave me a bow.
“Queenie.”
I smiled as I reached out my hand, and he grabbed it and kissed it, to the grand delight of the crowd. “You’ve certainly made yourself a fan favorite,” I whispered.
“Well, if I can’t be yours, at least I’m theirs.” Keelan’s eyes drifted to Watkins and Humberto. Watkins gave an annoyed groan.
I leaned in and gave Keelan a wink. “Don’t be so sure you aren’t.” I let my fingers squeeze his, enjoying the jolt that went through me when his fingertips caressed my palm in return. As I watched his face light up and his breath catch, I wondered if I might finally have found what I’d been hoping for from the start, a man who’d compete, not for the crown, but forme.
15
A sharp wit can cut deep enough to kill a spirit.
—Sultan Raj of Cheryn
* * *
The parade was followedby a torture session. Mayor Deacon had arranged a dinner at his palace, and he had invited the head of every guild in the city.
“Trade me places,” I teased Gita as I sat in my guest room and she changed out my gown from the parade masterpiece to a top made only of lace—my attempt at a compromise between the sea’s topless styles and my sense of modesty—and a skirt of bunched purple tulle that puffed out like a storm cloud around my hips.
“I’ll trade you dresses,” the mermaid offered with a grin as she swiped away the parade makeup and replaced it with dark charcoal for my eyelids.
“Dresses and places,” I bartered.
Sahar clucked her tongue at me. “You’ll be fine.”
I made a silly face in her direction, but the truth was I was incredibly nervous. This was to be my first appearance, besides the tournament ball, where members of the public had direct access to me in an informal situation. Royal appeals in the palace were one thing. Queen Gela had taught me how to run a court. But mingling? That was the one area of ruling I’d been too young to learn from her. Balls, dinners, small talk preceding business. The art of saying what you wanted while your words remained inane and inoffensive.
I knew how to compliment these guild masters. I didn’t know how to please them. I still felt far too ignorant of the sea and its functions to face them. Despite myself, I bit my lip, giving away my nerves.
Sahar swam forward and put a gentle finger to my chin, raising my gaze to hers. “Remember, treaties will benefit them. Trade will give them larger groups of consumers—well, for some things anyway,” she acknowledged with the tilt of her head. “Swim lightly around those algae bloomers. They’ve got gold coins gleaming in their eyes but a product that tastes worse than …”
“An octopus’s backside?” Gita supplied before opening one of my many trunks and grabbing some gold cuffs to decorate the tips of my wings.
“Does an octopus have a backside?” I asked.
“Bottom side?” Sahar offered.
