The Luna Choosing Game
Poor thing didn’t want to miss a minute of this adventure.
One of the merfolk children tugged at my arm. She was a bit older than Elva, maybe seven or eight, with her hair done up in elaborate pigtails. A row of pearls dotted across her forehead. A royal, then.
She pointed at the wall behind them, where I noticed some shelfs had been set up, each covered in some soft-looking cushions.
“When we get sleepy,” the little princess said, “that’s where we sleep.” She twisted her tail so that she could twirl her fins around her fingers. “Elva would like it. It’s what the mermaids do.” She giggled at the word.