I cut through the water, twitching my fins in annoyance. I had been pushed well past my limits today. Enough was enough.

I swam upward toward the shallows, flaunting the rules. The surface was forbidden—it was dangerous—but I didn’t care. I exhaled as I broke the surface, glaring at the shore.

Usually, I could stare for hours. I was endlessly fascinated by the colors, the greens, yellows, and reds. Even the sky was a shade of blue you never found underwater. Everything was so bright compared to the muted world I lived in. But today, the sight of the shore only made me angry.

It was so very far away.

I’d waited forever for this chance, and now she was going to ruin it!

I’d been minding my own business, scavenging for oysters in a favorite kelp bed. She must have known I was there. She probably followed me, the little sneak. My red hair and the bright blue green of my scales made me far too easy to spot, which she frequently did. It was something she had done ever since I could remember. It would have been cute if Thalia were an ordinary little sister.

But she wasn’t.

Only a few years younger, she had never been a real sister in any sense of the word. She was wanted. I was not. She was allowed in the main house, and I was not, unless it was to serve the two mistresses of the manor. We may have had the same father, but that was where the similarities ended.

We lived under the same roof, technically speaking, but our circumstances could not have been more different.

She was spoiled, petted, praised, pampered, and adored. Beautiful clothes, a bounty of delicious food, tutors, and fun and friends were hers for the taking.

Meanwhile, I was relegated to the servants’ quarters. I was what they call in polite society ‘a poor relation.’ Only, I wasn’t really related to any of them. Only Thalia and I shared blood, so I supposed that my stepmother didn’t really owe me anything. I was there on her charity.

And Thalia loved rubbing my face in it.

In fact, it seemed like it was her life’s mission to make me feel awful on a daily basis. She constantly insulted me, but I could handle that. It was all the sneaky little things she did to make my life more difficult that drove me mad.

Following me. Telling lies to get me in trouble with her mother. Even stealing my few possessions. She was so determined to make me miserable that nothing was beneath her.

I did my best to ignore her, as I had for years.

But today, she had gone too far.

Thalia would not stop preening about her new armor and weapons for the Trials. She usually limited her torture to home. Now, she was even haunting me out here, the one place I was usually free of her.

As usual, she was not alone. She’d even brought her awful friends along. Thalia never traveled without a school of sharp-tongued harpies. The Mean Mers, I called them. I didn’t think she even knew all of their names. I certainly didn’t.

They were only there to serve as an audience. It gave her someone to talk to, I supposed. Someone to make sure her barbs landed where she wanted them to.

On me.

Her mother’s family was one of the wealthiest in the Northern Waters, which was a part of the Atlantak Ocean, as the two-leggers called it.

Well, one the wealthiest other than the Royals. No one could match their wealth and privilege. I imagined them to be even more spoiled than my half-sister. More spoiled and more powerful.

Not that I’d ever met any of them myself, but they didn’t live too far from where we were now, an hour’s swim or so further north from the rocky cliffs that marked the edge of the sea.

Or at least, an hour at the speed I usually swam.

I scowled, diving beneath the waves again. I nearly slammed into a large, dark shape that seemed determined to block my path. I swam neatly under it instead, muttering as I barreled forward. I was determined to ignore everything else around me.

I wanted to be alone. I was supposed to be gathering food or practicing for the Trials with my limited free time between shifts. Instead, I wanted to go off and lick my wounds.

It’s not fair!

I didn’t have so much as a helmet to protect me in the Trials. No matter how many oysters I sold, I’d never have enough to buy proper armor.

The worst part was that Thalia had no interest in actually winning. It was all a big joke to her, something frivolous to entertain her and raise her status. Not a lifelong goal. She was using the Trials as a fashion show, hoping to catch the eye of the Prince.

I knew because she’d told everyone within earshot that little tidbit. Being wealthy and spoiled wasn’t enough for her. She wasn’t satisfied with all the privileges she had. She was lucky to have a loving mother and a full belly, never mind a soft bed and a roof over her head.

Oh, no, not her. She wanted to be a Royal on top of everything else.

I wouldn’t even have taken issue with it if she hadn’t been such a miserable, vicious Mer!

The irony was, she really did look lovely in her armor. I had no doubt that she would catch the eye of anyone she pleased. My sister was heartless and self-centered, yes, but if she wanted to hide it from you, you would never know.

The truth was, she looked like what the two-leggers called an angail, even though she was anything but.

On the surface, she was nearly perfect. Beautiful, with long, silky blonde hair that did what it was supposed to (unlike my wild red curls), clear blue eyes (not dark green like mine), and flawless skin (I was born covered with freckles). She could carry a tune and make polite conversation, and she was surprisingly intelligent when she bothered to take an interest in anything other than her wardrobe, which was rare. She even had a bit of magic, something I was woefully lacking in.

In fact, if she weren’t so awful, she might have been quite wonderful. I’d cared for her once. Loved her desperately, even.

We’d been two lonely little girls in the same house, a palace that was stiff and formal. We should have been friends, if not truly sisters. And she’d been sweet as a child, the few times I’d been allowed to play with her. But all of my lame attempts at sisterly affection over the years had been rejected, to put it mildly. I told myself that I had accepted that she was pure evil and moved on.

But as usual, she got to me anyway.

I swam faster, wishing I had sponge in my ears so I wouldn’t have to listen to her. I hoped they’d give up and find someone else to torment. I knew I wasn’t their only victim. Any young Mer who got in their way was fair game.

Finally, I was far enough that I couldn’t hear even one tiny shrill giggle from them.

I sighed deeply in relief. It didn’t slow me down though. I wanted to get as far as I could from her. I didn’t belong here, and I couldn’t wait to escape, once and for all. I was nearly of age, so it wouldn’t be long.

Maybe I’d even go as far as another ocean.

I might even settle for a lake, if it was big enough.

I thought for a minute then rejected that idea. No lake was big enough. I loved to swim long-distance too much. It was the one thing I was good at. I was a bit of a show-off, truth be told.

Lake-dwelling Mers had to be much more careful about being spotted by the two-leggers. That didn’t sound like fun to me at all.

Another ocean, or even a sea, would be best, I decided. Maybe the Indyan Ocean. Or the Meditoraneanne. I could pack light and take the Straight of Gibraltar. That sounded nice.

Either way, I was getting out.

Someday, I wouldn’t be the poor girl who lived on the fringes. I wouldn’t have to rely on someone else’s charity. I’d be somewhere else entirely.

Someone else.

I kicked my fins harder, determined to outswim the tears that were forming in my eyes.

My speed didn’t stop the dark shape from pursuing me. Most Mers would be afraid if they saw what it was. I just rolled my eyes as the thick gray behemoth slammed into my side.

It was a shark. My shark.

Or rather, I belonged to him. Most Mers had an animal familiar. Sadly, we did not get to choose them.

They chose us.

Beazil was a fearsome creature. Or at least, he looked like a fearsome creature. He was a great white shark, nearly twenty feet in length, a terrifying predator that could tear his prey apart with one bite.

In reality, he was as friendly and docile as a seal.

I shook my head. Typhoon forbid he ever got into a real fight with a giant squid or something big enough to take him. He would probably try and make friends instead of defending himself, which could be disastrous.

I remembered when he was just a baby, tugging at my fins as I ran errands for my stepmother. He’d been a pest then and he was a pest now.

Pest or not, I loved the silly thing. He was the only family I had left. I had friends, sure. Not many, and not what you would call best friends, other than Lila, but I had them.

But family? Someone who loved me above anyone else? Someone who would bend over backward to help me and vice versa? It was just the big guy with the teeth.

I sighed, slowing my pace so he didn’t have to keep up. I was an unusually fast swimmer, like my father had been. He’d been a Royal Messenger. That was how we got into this mess to begin with.

As a Messenger, he was considered to be quite a catch, so he’d been single for about two swells after being widowed after my mother’s death.

He’d landed in another Mer’s lap within the year and married shortly after that. I’d been moved into an enormous underwater palace and spoiled rotten. It wasn’t so bad at first, though I really did not like the stiff formal clothes I was expected to wear. I did enjoy the rich and plentiful food.

Until the unthinkable happened.

He’d barely been wed for half a year when he was sent on a dangerous journey to deal with a rebellious kingdom on the far side of the world. His new wife was carrying his babe when he’d disappeared. He’d been called away, never to return, which left me with a vain and callous stepmother who wanted nothing to do with me and the world’s most obnoxious and self-absorbed sister.

Half-sister!

I clenched my jaw in annoyance.

“Keep up, Beazil!”

Even after I’d slowed my breakneck pace, Beazil was lagging behind me. My shark was not all that fast, at least not for his size. Beazil was not just unexpectedly friendly for his species, but he was also unaccountably lazy.

I’d heard that sharks never stopped moving. They had to swim or they would die. Well, Beazil did stop. Quite often, in fact. I assumed he had magical qualities that allowed for this, because I certainly hadn’t put a spell on him. I couldn’t.

He was overly fond of naps as well.

And belly rubs. They were his third favorite thing, after naps and eating, though I supposed that the eating was at least in character for a shark. But Beazil preferred seaweed and shrimp to large prey. Too much screaming and gore for his sensitive nature.

Yeah, my shark was practically a vegetarian.

“Come on, you big baby.”

He looked at me inquisitively, his eyes sharp with intelligence. Beazil was lazy, sure, but he was no dummy. Sometimes, I thought that being smart was part of the reason he was so lazy.

“We’re going to the cave.”

Beazil seemed to smile, swimming faster. He loved our secret cave as much as I did. There were delicious seaweed varieties along the coast, and the cave featured a wide shelf not far below the surface that was perfect for napping. And since the smaller fish that lived close to shore were unfamiliar with sharks, they practically swam into his mouth.

But that’s not why I wanted to go. I needed to practice and I didn’t want anyone watching. I didn’t want anyone to know I was practicing skills or that I was actually getting pretty good with a spear.

I didn’t want anyone learning all of my tricks.

The Trials started soon, and I was in for the fight of my life. Literally. Every hundred years, the crown held a series of contests for all the young Merpeople who were of age. Not just a competition either—the Trials were not unlike war.

Entry was mandatory, but I would have participated regardless of the rules. Even if I was on the younger side of all the entrants.

The Royals used the Trials to choose the Mer Nobility, which was earned through service and changed generation by generation. Messengers like my father were among the most important, though there were many other positions. The appointments came with status and wealth, sometimes even riches beyond imagination.

But I didn’t want to be a Messenger, even though it would solve many of the issues I was currently facing. I could finally face down Thalia and my stepmother. As a Messenger, I could hold my head high. I’d equal them in status, if not exceed them. Travel, adventure, respect, and material wealth would be mine.

I’d start with the repairs to the dilapidated home we used to live in with my mother. I had loved the house when I was a little girl and still visited it when I could. The garden was overrun but lovely, with my mother’s corals and grasses still growing.

It was a real home, the only one I’d ever known. One that had nothing to do with my stepmother or her wealth. A safe place that I could eventually move into myself.

But even more than that, I wanted to see the one thing that was out of reach for all Mers. I wanted to see it more than anything.

Land.

I had my eye on the highest prize of all.

The best of the best was assigned to become the Sea Spark. There were sometimes two or three assigned, but never more than that. More often, only the highest scoring Mer ascended to Spark. That meant there was only a handful at any time, with many never living to the age of retirement.

It was more than an honorary title. Sea Sparks could travel from land to sea at will. They were meant to keep an eye on the two-legger world. A Sea Spark would do anything they could to protect our watery domain, the underwater world the dry land folk seemed determined to destroy. It was the highest prize and the greatest danger one of the Nobility could face.

Humankind did not know of our existence, but they seemed determined to wipe us out.

Plastic. Chemicals. Oil rigs. Fish farms filled with toxic antibiotics. They poisoned the water, oblivious and uncaring of the extensive damage they caused.

Blah. It makes me sick. Two-leggers can be so gross.

I was desperate to learn as much as I could about them and their world. Why they treated the ocean as a garbage dump. Why they seemed so obsessed with material goods.

And how they could create such beautiful art and sculptures if they were so vile.

Plus, they saw things every day that a Mer could only dream of. Trees. Flowers. Sunrises and sunsets. Rainbows. Books made of paper that didn’t dissolve in your hands when you opened them. The big striped animals they called teegers.

Teegers were ferocious, with sharp claws and fangs, but also unspeakably beautiful.

As far as I knew, that was about it. In my dreams, I expected to see a teeger on every corner. I’d seen a skin once, a tattered rug in a shipwreck that had already been picked over. The oily fat on the underside had kept the colors bright. I’d trailed my fingers over the fur, wondering how anyone could kill such a magnificent creature.

I’d been endlessly fascinated by the land walkers as a child, and I’d yet to outgrow it.

Merpeople are long-lived compared to our dry land cousins. We might look human from the waist up, but we live a lot longer.

And we’re not nearly as stupid.

Most Mers live to be three hundred human years old or more. We’re adolescents for twice as long, leaving those who were chosen to serve for at least a century or two, until the Trials could be held again.

We also mature much slower, leaving a large group of teen and young adult Mers to compete in the Trials. Mers come from the world over to participate, and most are fiercely, and sometimes savagely, competitive. It’s not unheard of for ‘accidents’ to befall competitors, even when there are no weapons in a particular competition.

The current Trials were more important than they had ever been, with two-legger technology rearing its ugly head. I’d wanted to be a Spark ever since I learned the meaning of the word. I’d risk everything for the chance to turn the tide and make things right.

But it was a risk. The Trials were deadly more often than not. And the jobs themselves were dangerous. So many chose to just drop out by losing the initial race before things got bloody.

It was not a costume contest, as Thalia seemed determined to make it. I doubted she’d make it past the first round, opting out through deliberate defeat as many of the less ambitious Mers did. But me? I was going all the way.

I had to.

There was nothing else for me to do.

I had to win.

I had to be a Spark.