Luce couldn’t believe what she was hearing. No one had ever taught her as much as Nausicaa had. How could Dorian not realize that? “She’s so brilliant, Dorian. And she knows so much . . .”

“She is, she is, she is. Brilliant. But Luce, Nausicaa’s also, like”—Dorian laughed—“old-fashioned. She just doesn’t get how different everything is now. Because, I mean, from everything I’ve been reading the ocean is really in danger. And I know you’d like to help, right? If you could. But the thing is, there’s not a whole lot you can do about it if you’re stuck living in some cave somewhere, and you can’t even let anyone know you exist.”

Luce had a sudden queasy sense of where this was going. He hadn’t mentioned his idea of trying to turn Luce human in weeks. Why did he have to bring it up now? “Dorian, it’s crazy to keep talking about this!”

“It’s not crazy! You could do so much more if you were human again, Luce. I’ve been thinking, we could both become like marine biologists or climate scientists, and I’ll be an artist, too. Then we could work together to change things! It would be a lot smarter than splashing around getting chased by orcas. But Nausicaa would never be able to see that, and as long as she was hanging around . . .”

Luce understood. Dorian hadn’t bothered to mention his project of turning Luce human recently because he’d known he’d never be able to persuade her to attempt it. Not while Nausicaa was there urging Luce not to listen to him. But now . . .

“Nausicaa knew a bunch of mermaids who tried it. Changing back. She said she’s known hundreds of mermaids who left the water, and only two of them survived.” Luce tried to keep her voice calm and reasonable. Why couldn’t she make Dorian understand this? “So, Dorian, you really shouldn’t keep asking me this! Not unless you want me to die.”

“But those—” Dorian began. Luce looked up to see his eyes staring into the darkness. The indigo sky was crystalline with falling snow and with icicles that spiked from the roots above them. He took a deep breath. “Luce, those mermaids didn’t have any help, right? They just let their boyfriends carry them onshore.”

Luce was bewildered. What kind of help could a mermaid have in that situation? The best she could hope for was that someone would hold her while the pain lanced in from all directions, while she screamed in a blur of white, burning agony. Luce had felt that impossible suffering when she’d left the water to save Violet, and even the memory of it made her shiver. But if Dorian did have a better idea, well, then she might at least consider . . . “Help? Dorian, what are you talking about?”