The boy clenched the edge of the boat and gave a single gasping laugh. Then he poured out the melody in return. Now that he was so close, Luce could actually feel how he seized her song with his voice, bent it, and twisted it back at her. It felt like a physical movement, as if her voice were caught in a hard grip and wrenched. Trying to enchant him was pointless. He could deflect her as long as he had to.

Luce let the music drop abruptly, and they stared at each other again. She could see the golden brown tint of his eyes even in the blue darkness, see the harsh skepticism on his face. A cloud of dark sparkling flickered around his head. With a human girl that shimmer would have been a sign that she was on the verge of turning into a mermaid herself. But as a boy he couldn’t possibly change, even though he was marked the same way Luce was.

The wind sighed around them. He laughed again, with the same hurt, sarcastic suddenness.

“You think I’m surprised? I know what this is about. I knew it as soon as you didn’t come to the beach.” His voice was low, taunting. Luce shuddered, wishing she could pull her gaze away from his. “I just wanted you to talk. I need to understand—what happened to me. But I guess you’re never going to give me that. What’s it to you, what I need, right? You really won’t say anything to me? One word?” Luce heard herself sob. He stared hard for a moment, as if he wanted to give her time. “Then get it over with, already.”

Why did you have to tell the police about us? Luce wanted to ask, but the words seemed too difficult. Instead she bit her lip, and let her body drop straight down into the water. Catarina’s voice whispered on in her mind, telling a story about her previous tribe on the Russian coast, about Marina, who’d been queen there. One man—I don’t know how he managed to resist her. Marina was a singer like no one I’ve ever heard; her voice could swallow a ship whole. But he held out, so three of us shot up from beneath his lifeboat and capsized it. Marina pulled him under . . .