Wicked Winters

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Wicked Winters Page 7

by Melanie Karsak et al.


  “Could be better, Missus Scrooge, but I’ll be on my feet again in no time.”

  “I’ve asked Fawn to have a doctor come around to see little Timothy. Please ask him to have a look at your legs when he comes,” I said.

  “A doctor? You’re having a doctor come here?" Bailey asked.

  “Yes, and have a look at these. Let me know what you think,” I said, pulling the sketches I’d done from my pockets. “You’ll need to look over the supports. I’m not sure I’ve sketched the joint points quite right. I have an exciting, new venture planned for us for this new year, Bailey Cratchit. I hope you’re ready to stretch your skills.”

  “I…” Bailey began, looking over the schematics. “This is brilliant.”

  “Good. Let’s discuss it next week when you return from your holiday. Now, where is little Timothy?”

  “I’m here, Missus Scrooge,” the boy called. He was sitting at his small stool in the corner reading a book.

  Pulling a seat from the kitchen table, I joined the child. “And how are you on this lovely Christmas?” I asked the boy.

  “Very well, Missus Scrooge. I am very pleased to see you here.”

  “And I am pleased to see you as well. I have something for you. Two somethings, in fact,” I said, then dipped into my bag, pulling out an orange, which I handed to the child.

  He took the fruit, a wide smile on his face. “Why, it’s big enough for all of us.”

  I smiled at him. “There are more here for your brothers and sisters as well,” I said, patting my bag. “But this one is for you,” I said, then dipped into my bag once more. From inside, I pulled out a small, stuffed kitten with a bell on its collar, which I’d picked up that morning at the toymaker’s shop. I handed it to him.

  “Why, it’s a tabby,” Timothy said with a laugh.

  “Indeed, it is. Once, I had a little girl, Maisie. She had a kitten just like this one. Made at the very same shop. It was her favorite. I thought you might like one too.”

  “Oh, I do. Look at its little bell,” the boy said, ringing the small bell on the kitten’s collar. “I’m glad you came to see us, Missus Scrooge. It truly is a very Happy Christmas.”

  “That it is. Bless you, Timothy.”

  “Bless you, Missus Scrooge. And may God bless us each and every one.”

  “Even those of us who are broken?” I whispered to him.

  The boy raised his eyebrows in surprise, then wrapped his tiny arm around me and whispered in my ear. “Especially the broken ones,” he said then hugged me tight.

  And from that Christmas thereon, I never uttered another humbug.

  About Melanie

  Melanie Karsak is the author of The Airship Racing Chronicles, The Harvesting Series, Steampunk Red Riding Hood, The Celtic Blood Series, and the Steampunk Fairy Tales Series. A steampunk connoisseur, zombie whisperer, and heir to the iron throne, the author currently lives in Florida with her husband and two children.

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  Holiday Hopes by Erin Hayes

  A Sirens of the Deep Short Story

  Holiday Hopes Description

  A Sirens of the Deep Short Story

  Rather than go with the yearly whale migration, a young princess feels compelled to stay in case her long lost sister comes back—and finds so much more.

  Holiday Hopes

  "The whales have already started their migration," my father says as he comes into my room. "We're expected to follow shortly behind." He pauses as he takes in the state of my room. And the fact that I'm sitting at my vanity. "Adria, what in the seven seas?" he exclaims.

  I know that he sees a young, thirteen-year-old mer princess sitting amongst her things, her blond hair unkempt, surrounded by her empty luggage. He sees his daughter entirely unprepared to leave her home for the winter.

  I told the servants to go away and even had to fight them to leave.

  “I’m not going,” I tell him flatly as I watch his reflection. “I’m staying right here.”

  Father pauses for a long moment before his face falls, and he pulls up a chair next to me. "Adria…"

  I look up at him with tears in my eyes. "What if she comes back, Father? What if she comes back after we leave, and we're not here?"

  Father lets out a long sigh, bubbles bursting with his breath. “It’s been eight years since she left, Adria. Your sister is not coming back.” He rubs at his temple. “We migrate every winter, why are you so concerned this year?”

  I can’t tell him why I’m suddenly so concerned.

  My bottom lip trembles and I don't have to fake it. "But I want her to come back."

  He puts an arm around my shoulders, his powerful biceps squeezing with the motion. “I know. But you’re going to have to let her go. She has a new life now.”

  "A new life?" I try to think about how my sister is somewhere else without me. Does she ever think about me? Does she even care?

  I try not to think the thought that scares me even more: what if she doesn’t know I exist?

  I don’t know much about babies. I was only five years old when she left as an infant. But my only real memory is of her sea-green eyes and her shock of blond hair. I only got to hold her once, before Father gave her away to keep her from the clutches of the sirens of the deep. The sirens who wanted her for their devious plans.

  I’d been promised that she would come back. By Father, no less. He’d told me that this was only temporary, that it was for the greater good. It was to protect her. And it was to protect me from the deep as well.

  Do I still hold onto hope that she’ll be back?

  Yes. Because if I lose that hope, I’ll learn that false promises are just that. False.

  Eight years, though. Such a long time.

  Something special is going to happen, though, this season. I can feel it. My nanny calls it clairvoyance, although I don't know if that's the same as future sight. If it can even be called that. What I have are more like gut feelings. Like I get a feeling in my stomach that tells me to do something. I either have to listen to it, or it will just keep growing worse and worse until I go crazy.

  My gut is telling me to stay here, despite the whales migrating to warmer waters during the cold season. Even though, politically, the royal mer family has always traveled with the whales as a sign of solidarity.

  No, my gut is telling me that something big is going to happen. Although I can't quite say that to Father. He wouldn't understand.

  So I sit at my vanity because there's nothing else for me to do.

  “She’ll come back,” I whisper. “I want my sister back.”

  I can see the hesitation in Father's expression reflected in the mirror, and he frowns and sits back. "Adria," he says, his voice a little sterner now.

  I gulp down my fears and hold my head up like a princess. “I’m staying.”

  Because if I don't, I'm going to miss something significant.

  “Listen to me…" Father starts again, but the door to my room opens, and my nanny Mira stands in the doorway. He turns to look at her, and there’s an unspoken conversation that exchanges between their looks.

  “I’ll speak with her, Your Highness,” she says, bowing her head.

  “What will that do?” my father asks, helpless.

  Mira looks up, and her blue eyes glitter in the bioluminescence of my room. “She will go with the migration after we talk. Just let me speak with her. Alone.”

  I want to cross my arms in defiance and show Mira
exactly what good talking to me alone will do, but I’d rather have Father leave and deal with Mira than anger him. So I keep my mouth shut as I look between Father and my nanny, wondering if he’s going to leave me alone with Mira.

  He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “All right, fine. But Adria had better come willingly. Or else.”

  Or else.

  When else has Father used that threat and followed through with it? Never, but I know my parents spoil me. I know that they indulge my every whim. I don't want to take advantage of that, except I do know that I must stay here.

  I know that Father has other pressures. There are politics to our winter migration that the royal family must support and protect the whales during their seasonal movements. It's a practice that has been around for the last three hundred years, and my ancestors haven't missed one yet.

  But going with everyone means not following through with my gut.

  Mira meets my eyes, keen understanding in her gaze. “Understood, my lord.”

  She waits until Father exits my room and closes the door, and even then, she waits a little longer before speaking.

  “This is very important, Adria,” she says calmly.

  “I know.”

  “It is a sign of solidarity for you and your father to go with the migration.”

  “I know that, too.”

  Mira crosses her arms. “So why haven’t you packed, child?”

  I press my lips together.

  She raises an eyebrow. “Adria.”

  “You know those gut feelings I get? The future sight?”

  Her expression darkens. “Yes?”

  “I have one.” I tap the coral surface of my vanity with my finger. “It’s telling me that I need to stay here. Right now.”

  Mira considers this, then narrows her eyes. “Are you certain?”

  I nod.

  Uncertainty edges into her face before her stern facade drops, and she gives a quick look around before pulling up a chair next to me. "You must tell me everything."

  I lift a shoulder, suddenly very self-conscious of this, because it feels like I'm crazy. After all, what are gut feelings? How can I expect to distinguish them from real future sight versus eating some rotten kelp?

  But I take a deep breath, clasp my hands in my lap, and turn toward my nanny. "I don't know. I get that weird feeling inside, the kind that makes me feel like something horrible will happen if I don't follow it." I let out a shuddering breath. "Something is telling me to stay here."

  Mira frowns. "Did you mention this to His Highness?"

  I shake my head. "No."

  She closes her eyes and sighs with a definitive nod. "Good. You know how dangerous it is for you to have future sight, right?"

  "Yes."

  Future sight falls into what everyone in the seven seas calls magic. And magic — outside of what are just little parlor tricks — belongs to the sirens of the deep. The sea witches that make up my worst nightmares. Any of the mers who show magic are outcast to the deep, where they're at the sirens' mercy.

  If Father ever knew that I have future sight, he'd be forced to make a terrible decision whether or not to banish his eldest child to the deep, which is why I wouldn't say anything about it in his presence.

  But still, regardless if it's dangerous or not, I do have this gut feeling that I just can't rid myself of. And if I am to stay to see my sister, then so be it.

  Mira cups my cheek, her expression sad, contemplative. I wonder how she knows so much about future sight and why she hasn't told my father of it yet. Then I realize that I don't want to ask that question in case my nanny comes to her senses and does just that. The news would rock the seven seas to its very depths.

  So I wait for her to say something.

  "And you're sure of this?" she asks sharply. "That if you were to stay here, Her Royal Highness, the lost princess Guinevere of Atlantis, would come back to our shores?"

  That's a very tall order from her. And I don't know if it's true or not. But I hold my chin up, look Mira right in the eye, and nod.

  "Yes. Yes, I do believe that."

  Mira considers this for a moment, and she gets to her feet. She makes her way to the door and opens it, taking one last look at me before she slips outside. "I'll stall His Highness for as long as I can. I'll tell him that you'll be ready by nightfall tomorrow. That perhaps it's your upset stomach that is making you feel like you need to spend one more night."

  My heart leaps into my throat. "Tomorrow?" I don't know if that's enough time. But it's more than I would have otherwise, so I clasp my hands again and bow my head. "All right. If you think you can convince him to stay another day."

  A smile tugs at Mira's lips. "I know. That's not so long that the whale migration won't be too far ahead of us," she says. "No one will be offended by this change. But you must be ready to leave, Adria, even if your sister does not arrive, all right?"

  That will have to do. I nod.

  She smiles and leaves me again. I turn to face the mirror and let out a long breath, bubbles flying up.

  "Where are you, Guinevere?”

  Mira stops by later to tell me that my father acquiesced and is allowing me to stay for a little bit longer. Through nightfall tomorrow, as she promised. I don't know how Mira does it, but I take the extra time that I have to see if there's any way that I can help fate along.

  I also want to avoid Father's wrath, so I sneak out my bedroom window to the Downs — my gut is telling me that I need to go there. Even though I don't wear my scales for fear of being recognized, I still make good time to the Downs. I don't need to shift to my fishtail to swim. After all, I am an Atlantean princess.

  The Downs are the mers' name for the cluster of shipwrecks off the coast of their land. There is a reef here, full of sharp rocks that ground ships if they're not careful. It's the closest any mers are allowed to go, as it's just on the border of our territory and the humans'. It's mostly to keep out of sight and make sure that our existence is kept secret. After all, once humans discovered whales, they hunted them to near extinction. We wouldn't want that for the mers, especially since we look so alike.

  Only a few chosen humans know of our existence. And I think with my father's latest worries about the state of the ocean, he'll be shrinking that circle of trust even further — no contact with the human world.

  So me going to the Downs is a risk, even though other mers are allowed to visit. As a princess, my privileges are far more restricted.

  I ignore a nagging feeling in the back of my mind as I spy the group of wrecks, each long-forgotten ship looking like a whale's ribcage with long, curved wooden slats or metal bars if a ship is newer. The quality of the water changes the closer I get to the wrecks. There's a swirl of iron and copper in amongst the usual other scents and flavors of the ocean, and I nearly gag as I get closer.

  What I'm looking for here, I'm not exactly sure. My future sight wants me there, as if to discover some lifeline or connection to the human world. Perhaps there's something to tell me a little bit more about humans and why Guinevere would have to stay with them for so long. There is so much I don't understand about my neighbors on land. But there's a part of me that wants to know. To break the barrier that's been erected between our two worlds for generations.

  There has to be something more to it than territory disputes. We look very similar. We can swim in the water and walk on land, although our two kinds have thrived in different conditions.

  But we should be working together. Right?

  I frown as I look between the ships, wondering which ones are the newest. Not knowing much about human culture or history, it's a little hard to discern which ones that could be. I do know that the more ornate wooden ones are older, and while they are fun to explore, I won't get any new information from there. The more modern ships are made out of metal, and they tend to look more box-like, although they seem to have more space to hold cargo than the older vessels.

  It's while I'm here, p
aused and looking at the ships, that someone sneaks up on me.

  "Shouldn't you be going with your father to head up the winter migrations?"

  I turn with a startle, only to sigh in relief that it's just my friend Theseus. "Don't scare me like that," I mutter, shoving his shoulder.

  He grins at me widely as he crosses his arms and cocks his head. "I wouldn't scare you if you were more aware of your surroundings."

  I roll my eyes. Theseus's father is the royal weapons master and fighting teacher and has taught me how to defend myself. Unfortunately for me, that also means that Theseus gets to train with me and make my life hell. Because while Theseus is a year younger than me, he's bigger and can throw me off any fighting pose.

  "I was busy," I mutter, turning back toward the shipwrecks.

  "I can see that," he says. "But what are you doing out here when you should be preparing to migrate with the whales? I heard from your nanny that you were sick."

  "I am sick."

  "You don't look that way to me. Sick princesses don't usually go out trying to find shipwrecks."

  I glare at him, and he stares back at me with a small smile on his lips. He's an aggravating boy, all right. But he always knows how to make me laugh, and I'm powerless against it.

  So before I know it, I'm laughing in a splutter of bubbles, and he joins in.

  We're comfortable together. He's both like a brother to me and one of my best friends. There aren't a whole lot of mers around my age in the palace, so I'm fortunate to have found a friend in Theseus.

  Except when he follows me to places where I'm not supposed to go. I hope that he won't tell his father or my father about where I am. Especially since I'm supposed to be sick.

  "Seriously, Adria," he says. "What are you doing out here?"

  I let out an annoyed huff as I choose one random shipwreck and begin swimming toward it. "I'm trying to see if there's anything that can show me why my sister hasn't come back," I say.

 

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