Luce had imagined doing exactly that a thousand times, but now she felt a stubborn impulse to argue with him. “The timahk doesn’t come out of nowhere, actually. Nausicaa told me the whole story.”

“She also told you she’s three thousand years old,” Dorian observed roughly.

“And you’re kind of right, about somebody making us into mermaids. Except he was trying to help us by letting us change.”

“Some help, making you all into murderers,” Dorian hissed. Luce felt Dorian’s body shift as he pulled himself straighter, and she looked up to see the dark smolder gathering in his eyes. “Who is this scumbag?”

Luce suddenly remembered what Dorian had said before, about wanting to kill whoever was responsible. He wouldn’t be crazy enough to think he could fight a god, would he? A little nervously she told him the story of Proteus and the Unnamed Twins, and how the mermaids had first come into the world. “And that’s why it’s just a thing that happens to girls. That’s what Nausicaa said. She said there aren’t any exceptions for boys, ever. But, Dorian, maybe if we asked him . . .”

“Forget it,” Dorian snarled. Luce gazed up at him in dismay. “Not because I don’t want to be with you, Luce. I do. But because— Think about it. This story. It sounds like Proteus is just another asshole dad who doesn’t want his daughters to grow up. Of course he wouldn’t let any boys change. Because then his daughters would just leave him.” Luce was surprised and also a little impressed. None of this had occurred to her, but now that she heard Dorian say it she thought he might have a point.

“I don’t think my dad would have been like that,” Luce objected, but her voice was suddenly uncertain.

“Yeah, well. Too bad your real dad is dead. Just because he ran into this, like, project Proteus had of making a bunch of girls into total killers. Luce, I don’t know how you can even think about asking this creep of a god for a favor.” They were both gazing out at the narrow band of sea that showed beyond the boulder, and Dorian had started lightly stroking her body. Platinum ribbons of sunlight stretched in sleek layers on the water. “Look at that! Luce, do you see . . .” An arch of dark gray flesh like a living cathedral split the surface, not that far away.

“The gray whales,” Luce said. “They’re migrating now.”

“They were talking about that in school yesterday . . .” Luce began to feel Dorian’s sudden excitement running through her own body, and she twisted around to face him. “Oh my God, Luce. Let’s get the boat! We can go out there—”

“Nausicaa is swimming with them, though!”

“So?” Dorian was grinning now, with the hard, defiant courage Luce loved so much. “You said you want me to meet her.”