Page 23 of A Kingdom Threatened (The Vazula Chronicles 3)

Well, her world had expanded exponentially since then. And, perhaps inevitably, so had her rebellion.

The thought brought a grim sort of humor, and she pictured the scandalized face of the mermaid who ran the charity home if she knew that Merletta had become the head of a secret resistance operating from within the Center. Most likely she’d mainly just be offended that her own efforts had failed so dismally to subdue Merletta’s rule breaking.

With nowhere to be—she still had almost a week of her break, and Sage’s family wouldn’t be expecting her for dinner for another hour—she directed her strokes toward her old waters. Her thoughts floated uncomfortably toward the record she’d found in the center of the maelstrom.

Elminia and Elric, Hemssted.

Merletta recalled the head at the home telling her that she had no memory of the names of Merletta’s parents, when she’d challenged her during her first year at the program. Merletta had no idea whether that had been another of the head’s lies, or whether she truly didn’t know. But someone knew. Someone with access to Merletta’s second year test. Which meant it was someone at the Center.

She was determined to search for more information about those names, but it seemed fraught with danger to try to follow the trail from her test back to whatever upper echelon of the Center’s hierarchy had been behind the stunt. Perhaps she would do better to start asking questions in Hemssted.

She wrinkled her nose, still predisposed to think poorly of the city, given how unpleasant most of the Hemssted trainees seemed to be. It was unpalatable to think she might be one of them by birth.

Either way, she was unlikely to find any answers at the charity home, or elsewhere within Tilssted. She’d come within sight of the familiar building now, and she hovered for a moment, letting the current lift her. She’d been so glad to say goodbye to the place, ready to prove everyone in it wrong about her, and their sneering certainty that she would never make it in the Center’s training program.

Well, they’d been right about one thing, as it turned out. She’d certainly had a lot to learn.

Putting the unwelcome memories from her mind, Merletta turned away, starting at the unexpected sight of a familiar face.

“Tish,” she said, pulling up short.

“Merletta!” Tish was clearly equally surprised to see her.

For a moment they just stared at each other, the awkwardness of their last encounter disseminating through the water between them.

“Merletta?”

The somewhat abrasive voice pulled Merletta’s attention to Tish’s companion. She hadn’t initially even noticed the mermaid floating next to Tish.

“You’re the Tilssted trainee, the one who grew up in the charity home with Letitia?”

“Uh, yes,” said Merletta lamely. “I’m…that’s me.”

The other mermaid looked her over. “Scrawnier than I expected.”

Merletta felt a flicker of amusement. She glanced at Tish, hoping to share the joke, and earned a slightly strained smile.

“I work at the same shellsmith’s tower as Letitia,” the other mermaid informed Merletta, extending a hand. “I’ve heard about you, of course. Shame I wasn’t there the day you came to visit.”

Merletta shook the offered hand, looking her over. Scrawny was certainly not a description that would ever be applied to this girl. Her muscled arms were twice as thick as Tish’s, and she was tall, her fins almost scraping the ocean floor below them.

“I know, I don’t look like a shellsmith,” the other mermaid said bluntly. “My pa is still angry about the apprenticeship. He says I was built for real labor, not fussy carving and whatnot. But I didn’t fancy a life on the kelp farms. Especially not now.”

“Not now?” Merletta asked, frowning.

“Let’s not get into politics,” Tish interjected quickly. She smiled tentatively at Merletta. “It’s good to see you, Mer. What brings you to these waters?”

“Sentiment,” Merletta told her cheekily.

Tish gave her a look. “It may have been a while, but I think I still know you better than that.”

The other mermaid let out a guffaw. “Not much sentiment hangs around charity homes, from what I’ve heard.” She cast an expert eye over Merletta’s person. “You need new shells. You’ve outgrown those.”

Merletta glanced down at her Center-issue shells, a little taken aback by the blunt observation. “It’s all right, I can make do.”

“Make do?” The other apprentice’s voice had a booming quality that was attracting interest from passersby. “Aren’t you a Center trainee? You shouldn’t have to make do.” She jerked her chin toward Merletta’s chest. “Those shells are for a girl, not a full grown mermaid. How old are you?”

Merletta cleared her throat, lowering her voice partly out of self-consciousness at the candid discussion of her body’s development, and partly out of deference for Tish’s obvious discomfort at the attention they were gathering.