“The baleen whales, yeah. Those screen things are baleen. Nausicaa, I hate to break it to you, but the whales are in pretty serious trouble anyway. There are these insane levels of like mercury in their bodies—”

“But they’ve been coming back!” Nausicaa’s voice was suddenly so frantic that Dorian softened visibly. He looked like he wanted to give his old enemy a hug. Then Luce saw him glance down nervously at Nausicaa’s magnificent bare chest, only partly hidden by the dense tangles of her hair.

Luce was ready to be irritated when Dorian turned his gaze deliberately on Nausicaa’s eyes instead of her body. “I love them, too, Nausicaa. The way that gray whale looked at me . . .”

“What you humans call love, though . . .” A little of Nausicaa’s contempt was coming back.

“But I’m not totally human!” Dorian blurted. Luce smiled to herself. It was wonderful to hear him defend himself that way. “I mean, Nausicaa, if Luce can see it you must be able to, too, right? I’m like”—Dorian laughed—“a land merperson.”

Luce stretched her tail, feeling the cold silky wavering of the sea against her scales. The brilliance of the stars filled her eyes, and she wished again that Nausicaa would leave so she could wind her fingers through Dorian’s hair. It was strange and uncomfortable to be so near him without touching him, without feeling his breath on her shoulders, tasting his mouth . . .

“You mean, can I see how you waited on many nights for your mother to decide—”

It took Luce a moment to realize what Nausicaa was about to say, and she jolted out of her daydreaming in alarm. “Nausicaa!”

Nausicaa only glanced at Luce curiously and went on. “To decide to kill you, as she stood above you with the pillow in her hands? And how your father insisted that you were insane and that he’d have you sent away to the asylum if you spoke of this to anyone?” Nausicaa asked all this in the same cool, almost scientific tone she’d once used to suggest that Luce might someday commit suicide. “I’ve seen this, yes.”

“Nausicaa, stop it!” Luce cried out breathlessly. She was almost in tears, and she looked at Dorian with helpless anxiety, wondering what he would do. His face was bone white around his stunned, vacant eyes, and his hands were clenched. He tilted his head and gazed vaguely into the darkness, and a crescent of reflected starlight gleamed on his wet lower lip. He might start screaming, lashing out, calling Nausicaa a liar . . .

Instead Luce watched him exhale deeply, once and then again, and then slowly start to uncurl his trembling fingers. He shot Luce a quick, reassuring look, then turned with an obvious effort to face Nausicaa again. “I guess I shouldn’t have asked that,” Dorian murmured wryly. “Not if I didn’t want an answer.” He flashed a contorted smile.