“The dining hall is through those doors,” Eloise said with a smile, gesturing to a pair of double doors to her left. “We can come in with you so you don’t have to sit alone, if you want. The pureblooded merrae keep to themselves most of the time, so it’s usually awkward if there aren’t any turned humans to eat with.”

“I actually think I’m just going to grab some food and take it back to Triton’s room with me,” I said quickly. “Thanks, though.”

“Any time. Come find us if you need anything,” she offered, gesturing to herself, her mate, and Heidi.

I wouldn’t know how to find them, but I thanked her anyway before crossing the hallway. When the doors closed behind me, I let out a breath of relief.

Until I noticed ten sets of eyes on me.

Everyone in the room was staring.

The blue hair made it impossible to hide.

A woman glared at me.

Guess I’d found someone who voted with Joa.

The man next to her leaned over and whispered something in her ear. A pair of people at the table next to them leaned over and joined their whisper conversation, too.

I looked away.

Two frazzled-looking merrae couples with three babies and four toddlers between them turned back to their kids.

A man and a woman who looked absolutely uninterested refocused on their meal.

My face heated.

Maybe I should’ve accepted Eloise’s offer after all.

The doors opened behind me. A tall, dark, and handsome hero came to my aid, stepping up beside me and draping an arm over my shoulder.

“Wennel told me he and Eloise found you in the hallway. Are you okay?” Triton asked me mentally.

Relief had me immediately relaxing against his side as he led me smoothly across the room. “Yeah, just hungry.”

“The kitchen’s this way. You put your order in, then wait for it to come out. Doesn’t take too long,” he said into my mind.

“Thanks,” I whispered back.

“You were supposed to wake me up when you needed something. How did you get out of the grotto?”

“I decided to be independent, and figured out how to use my magic. Only fell on my ass once.” I paused. “Okay, twice.”

He rumbled unhappily. “You’re hurt?”

“Only a little.” Unless you counted my soreness. Then, it was a definite yes. I ached everywhere.

“You should’ve asked for help, Sweetheart.”

“I can manage just fine on my own.”

“Of course you can. You’re the queen. But you’re my queen. And that means I don’t want you hurting. Or struggling.”

We reached a set of menus, and I scanned the list slowly. The writing was elegant, and it may as well have been in a foreign language for all my skill at reading it.

I was too sore and exhausted to try to translate it.