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“You ask too many questions.”

“And you don’t tell me important information.”

Middlebrooks doesn’t respond. We make our way through dim corridors I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen in all my explorations as a child. Finally, we stop at a door. She presses her finger to her mouth, though she nearly misses, before gently knocking.

“Come in,” says my father’s voice from the other side.

She fumbles with the knob and opens the door.

I expect to see a smaller version of the throne room, but that’s not where my dad sits. He isn’t seated. The room is smaller than my suite without even a single chair, much less pompous seats for the king and future queen. My dad is pacing and muttering to himself. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him so flustered.

“Dad, are you okay?”

He turns to me. “Did you hear?”

“Tiberias’s announcement?”

“He wants to battle to the death for the throne! That’s never been done before. It’s unheard of. Nobody has ever done this in the history of the oceans!”

“I wouldn’t say nobody.” The words fly from my lips before I can stop them. I cover my mouth.

Dad stops pacing and stares at me. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

Middlebrooks approaches me. “You’ve heard of this? Under the waters?”

Crap. I didn’t want to tell him about Queen Sirena. “Have you responded to Tiberias?”

“Don’t change the subject.” Dad inches closer, his fists glowing green.

I swallow. “I’ve been reading old manuscripts about Queen Sirena.”

He tilts his head. “Because of your hair? You think you’re her or something?”

“What did you find out?” Middlebrooks demands.

No point in trying to keep this from him now. “That’s basically how she came to rule.”

Dad narrows his eyes. “She killed the previous king?”

I nod, bracing myself for his temper. Especially if he presses for more details and I have to admit that she killed her dad to come into her full powers.

He looks to the side, appearing deep in thought. The green fades from his hands. Then after a moment, he turns back to me with a spark in his eyes. “You can fight in my stead!”

I give him a double-take. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been preparing for the championship. It makes perfect sense. I can send you in my place.”

“You can’t be serious! I haven’t been using my trident for even a month.”

“It’s the perfect solution.”

Anger races through me. I don’t know why it surprises me that he’d be willing—no, eager—to pit me against my uncle in a fight to the death. “You’d risk my life for the crown?”

“He wouldn’t kill you. My brother’s always had a soft spot for you.”

“What do you expect to happen, then?” I ball my fists and they glow green. How could my uncle, who I haven’t seen for most of my life, be more concerned about my well-being than my own dad?