by Terry Spear
The scientist shook his head. “There’s nothing in the book about a land-born mermaid.” He rubbed his smooth, stubby chin. “But perhaps, sire, she’s a changeling.”
Persephonice didn’t like where this was going. The changelings she’d read about could take a variety of forms. What if that scared the river elves? They seemed not at all enlightened, despite having a so-called scientist among them.
“A changeling?” The king’s voice sounded concerned. “What kind of a changeling?”
“I would have to research some other reference materials to see if I can find anything about them. If you will give me a few days—”
“You have until the evening meal to discover what she is.”
Or else? What would the king do to his scientist?
“Can she swim?” the scientist asked.
The king looked back at Persephonice. “Well, can you?”
Dracolin had asked her that very same question and had seemed concerned that she could. He had even asked if she was a mermaid.
“No, I can’t swim.” She hated lying, but she figured maybe she’d be safer if she said she couldn’t.
The king nodded and rose from his seat. “We’ll test her when she’s not quite so groggy.”
Great. When they discovered she’d lied, she’d be in even more trouble.
“We will know what you are.” He turned to the woman. “Watch her, Swiftia. Don’t let her out of your sight. Two guards will be posted at all times, until the facilities are ready for her.”
“But if we don’t know what she is…I mean, if she’s a changeling, how can we be sure it will keep her from escaping?”
“I am not a changeling. The form you see me in is the only form I can be in,” Persephonice said, highly agitated.
The king studied her for a moment more, then grunted. “We shall see.”
Persephonice swallowed hard. Not only did he not believe her from the sounds of it, her situation was growing worse by the minute if they were preparing a cell for her if that was what the facilities were all about. Or worse, would they do experiments on her?
All the moisture in Persephonice’s throat dried up at once. When would the cell be ready? She closed her eyes, wishing the grogginess she felt would disappear. Until she felt more herself, she had no hope to escape.
Again she swallowed, but her throat felt parched like the time she’d crossed the Peroso desert on the Langorian planet without enough water in her pouch.
“I am thirsty. Do you have something I can drink?”
The king nodded, then left the room.
Within minutes a man entered the room bearing a tray, a cup and a pitcher of blue glass.
Persephonice wasn’t sure whether the liquid was blue, or seemed blue from the color of the vessel. She drank some of the liquid and was relieved it soothed her dry throat.
But then she felt the drink wash over her like a calming potion. She groaned inwardly. They would drug her until she was placed in her permanent cell. Somehow, she had to avoid eating and drinking until she could escape this…
She sighed deeply, already losing her train of thought. Escape from here, Persephonice. You must escape.
Chapter 5
For two days, Dracolin had searched with Prince Cronus and Balon for Persephonice without success. He knew trying to find her would be wrought with difficulty, the way the river kings lived in their castles, some only accessible by diving through the water to underground cavern palaces. But he hadn’t had one clue that would help him even pinpoint the area they’d taken her to.
He suspected King Landers had her, as he ruled over the kingdom closest to where the river elves had captured her. But none of the shadow elves knew where the entrance was. Whenever they’d battled them, usually over access to the River Ro, the river elves would just seem to appear.
Dracolin chewed on a piece of dry beef as Balon stoked the campfire. “We’ll find her,” Balon said. “As determined as you are, we’ll find her.”
The prince pulled off his boots. “Just remember, she belongs to my father. I can’t imagine you’d have any notion of keeping the girl for yourself, but she’s not a shadow elf. Just remember that.”
“I promised to keep her safe,” Dracolin said, not meaning for his tone to be so grouchy. He hadn’t promised any such thing to the girl. But silently, he’d made the vow to himself. For whatever reason, she drew him to her.
And though he had no idea what she was, she needed a warrior chief to keep her safe as defenseless as she appeared. He had every intention of being that one.
He glanced at his friends and frowned when he found them watching him. “I have no intention of taking her for myself. She’s not a shadow elf, for Talon’s sake. What would I do with her?”
Balon shook his head.
The prince tilted his chin up. “You kissed her, for one.”
Dracolin stared at the prince. He had thought the edge of the cliff had hidden his actions.
A slow smile appeared on the prince’s lips. “So what was it like, kissing this creature we know nothing about?”
No way would he tell the prince what the girl did to him when he kissed her, stirring him with a longing he’d never before experienced, heating him to such an extent he felt his blood was burning up. She’d tilted her chin up to him and her eyes and lips had begged for another kiss. And he would have given it to her, too, if it hadn’t been for the river elves’ untimely appearance.
“Ah, he kisses all of the girls,” Balon said, his eyes sparkling with humor, but Dracolin knew he also said it to get him out of the bind he was now in with the prince.
“Only shadow elf girls. Nothing else, eh, Dracolin? Tell us, what did she taste like?” the prince asked.
The prince wanted to know, and he wasn’t letting go of the notion until Dracolin told him the truth. Could he handle the truth? The prince had never kissed a girl. His father wouldn’t permit it until the right one was selected for him. And Balon had never been bold enough.
Dracolin sat down on his bedding. “The truth is I have kissed no finer maid.”
His companions stared at him, waiting for more.
Dracolin shook his head. “You know, I never tell all.”
Balon snorted. “Ahhh, you are leaving out the best parts, as always.” He climbed between his bedroll.
The prince studied Dracolin and reserved comment for several moments. Then he nodded. “It is as the seer says. A strange creature will steal the heart of the son of my father’s chief advisor. Just beware, it may be the heart that beats and not your love the seer spoke of.”
Dracolin smiled. “The seer never said anything like that.”
“No?” The prince pulled his bedroll to his chin. “She says a strange and enchanting creature will visit us and will change our lives forever.”
“For good or bad?” Balon asked.
The prince rested his head in the crook of his arms as he stared up at the double moons. “The seer wouldn’t say.”
“Did she say we will make a great fortune some day in the future? Or that we will find a good friend in hard times? Such is the way of the seer. One riddle will fit all circumstances.”
“You jest, Dracolin, but she has always been right.”
“And what is she right about?” Dracolin rolled over on his side and studied the prince. “The part about the strange and enchanting creature—”
“You have to admit that Persephonice is that.”
Yeah, Dracolin did. “All right, so did she say this before or after we had found Persephonice and brought the tale back to our people?”
“Before. A month ago, in fact. I never mentioned it because you scoff at her prophecies, and Balon worries too much.”
Dracolin smiled. The prince had that right. “But the part about her changing our lives forever.”
“Yes, and wouldn’t you say Persephonice has already done so? You have gone against my father’s wishes and your father’s even. Have you ever done such a thing befo
re? I believe what the seer says is true.”
“Yes, well it is conveniently open ended. She didn’t say whether our lives would change for good or bad.”
“Do you want her to tell you everything?” The prince smiled. “What would we have to live for if we knew everything that would happen beforehand?”
Dracolin folded his arms. “She didn’t say I’d lose my heart to the girl.”
“She didn’t have to. Why else would you have kissed her?”
“He kisses all the girls,” Balon said.
The three laughed.
“But not only that,” the prince continued, “why else would you vow to protect the girl? You can say it isn’t so, but I believe you have already lost your heart to her.”
Dracolin frowned. “She is not of our own kind. It would be folly to marry such a creature. How can I lose my heart to a girl when I know so little about her?”
“It was the kiss,” Balon said, waggling his brows. “I saw the way she looked up at you with longing. Do all of the shadow elf females react the same way when you kiss them?”
“Of course.”
The prince and Balon laughed.
“It is good to know you have not lost your sense of humor along with your heart,” the prince said and closed his eyes.
Dracolin looked at Balon who winked at him. “Night.”
Dracolin had to convince his companions he felt nothing for the girl, well except for protective, like a brother would feel toward his sister. Only, it wasn’t a sisterly kiss he had given Persephonice. He groaned and closed his eyes. Indeed, she was an enchantress. And if she wouldn’t tell him what she was, she must be an evil enchantress.
If the seer was right, and as the prince said, she always was, Persephonice would change their lives. He suspected for the worse. Somehow he had to prevent it.
With a heavy heart he considered his only option, freeing her from the river elves, then taking her far away from their own kingdom, and leaving her so that she could never harm his people.
His people always came first, so why did the thought of abandoning a creature he knew nothing about miles away from his kingdom to keep his people safe, tear at his heart?
***
Persephonice was certain matters would only get worse for her the longer she stayed with the river elves. Some kind of an argument took place as night shrouded her room in darkness except for a shimmering light in one corner of the room.
The woman still sat there, watching her, but as soon as Persephonice stirred, the woman stood, then crossed the floor to the door. “She’s awake,” she told someone in the hall.
“The king says she’s to be allowed to come to the meal, under guard.”
“And if she causes trouble?”
“She will be brought back here immediately. He wants to see how she reacts to our people. And he wants to see if she’ll eat our food. She’s made friends with the shadow elves. Will she convince her people to ally with us instead? He wants her to come to the meal.”
As long as they didn’t eat anything too horribly awful, like raw fish, she thought she could manage a meal with the blue-haired elves.
She rose from the bed, but was quickly disheartened when the bones in her legs felt like they’d dissolved. Would they drug her at the meal, too? She’d probably pass out in the middle of it.
“She’s still pretty unsteady,” the woman warned.
One of the guards stepped into the room. “I’ll carry her.”
When he carried her into the dining hall, she took in her breath sharply in astonishment. There must have been a hundred or more blue haired people already sitting at long tables organized in rows. The monotonous color of blue permeated the room. The men wore from light to dark blue tunics and breeches. The women wore shimmering gowns similar to what Persephonice wore, again, in light to darker shades of blue.
Blue cloth covered the tables and blue glass plates and goblets sat at every place setting. She snorted under her breath. They should have been called the blue elves instead of river elves.
Situated at the back of the room and elevated a foot above the rest, five tables rested end to end. Here, the king sat on a golden, intricately carved throne, and a woman sat beside him on a lesser ornate throne. She wore a thin silver crown too—the queen?
Persephonice imagined everyone at these tables were higher nobles, if her study of some societies was correct. An aristocracy ruled the people, rather than them ruling themselves.
The hall that had been filled with conversation suddenly grew hushed as the river elves diverted their attention to her. A strange feeling swept over her. Always part of a crowd, she’d never been one to be noticed. Her skin prickled with a sickly kind of anticipation. Every move she made would be monitored closely.
The king motioned to a half empty table near a wall of water. Like the room where her bed was, this room had pillars supporting the high vaulted ceiling and screens of waterfalls that poured into a steady stream just outside of the hall. The swooshing noise from the constant flow of water was the only sound in the room.
But the sight of the out of doors encouraged her to have hope. As soon as she finished her meal, she’d attempt her escape that way.
The guard seated her at a bench away from the elves near the water wall. Then the two guards took seats beside her. Servants carried platters piled high with a rainbow of colored fish to each of the long narrow tables next. When the platter reached her, she scooped up several pieces like others had before her, hoping at least one of the varieties would appeal to her. Already her stomach growled with gusto.
Servants served loaves of green bread shaped like fish, and a green leafy substance that looked like kelp. Dishes of some kind of a yellow creamy substance, sprinkled with bits of green, she imagined were herbs of some sort, sat out of reach. Everyone used the creamy stuff to coat his or her slices of bread.
Her stomach rumbled and she realized she hadn’t eaten in ages. She leaned over to the guard seated to her right and pointed at the yellow spread. “Can you pass that to me, please?”
He ignored her.
She took a deep breath, exasperated. With a three-pronged fork, she ate a green-colored fish. Tasty and highly spiced. She took a sip of a drink from a blue glass that tasted like sweetened water. Hopefully it wasn’t drugged.
When she’d finished eating every piece of fish, she tried the bread, but it was way too dry. She pointed again to the yellow spread. “Would you please pass that to me?” she asked the guard.
The guard glared at her, then continued to eat his meal. Did he not like doing what the prisoner asked of him? She couched her irritation and glanced around the room. Many of the river elves conversed with one another, but most watched her—the curiosity of the meal.
She looked back at the yellow spread. Well, if she couldn’t get the guard to pass it to her, she’d just get it herself. She attempted to rise from her seat. All conversation ceased at once.
The guard grabbed her arm and shook his head when she looked at him in surprise. “Sit and eat,” he commanded in a low growl.
“I only wanted to spread that stuff on my bread,” she said, her voice light and pleasant, trying to persuade the guard to give her what she wanted without creating too much more of a scene. She fully intended eating her bread, as hungry as she still was. The river elves’ food completely agreed with her.
Again the guard ignored her. Maybe it was her inborn obstinacy that made her do it. Maybe it was the drug that still ran through her bloodstream. But whatever it was, she sensed immediately she’d made a near fatal mistake after she did it.
Concentrating her mind on the spread dish, she drew it toward her. It floated above the table in a direct line toward her bread plate.
At first, silence fell over the entire hall. Then a few gasped. Three women fainted at another table.
“A high elf!” someone shouted, then the elves began to panic.
Using her ability to transport objects had been a really bad
mistake.
Chapter 6
“A high elf,” several others echoed, their voices both angry and frightened at the same time as Persephonice steeled her back.
Evidently, the river elves didn’t like the high elves, and she’d made a really serious mistake.
The two guards rose from their seats and drew their swords while four men rushed out of the hall.
Now what? Well for one, she was finishing her bread as tasty as it was with the creamy yellow stuff coating it.
Several more elves stood at their tables while some males quickly ushered women and children out of the hall.
Persephonice finished her bread as fast as she could, sensing they’d remove her from the hall as soon as they safely could.
To think all she wanted was a little bit of the tasty cream on her bread. Exasperated with herself, she had to learn to be more careful. These were a primitive people, she reminded herself. No wonder overseers didn’t stay to observe such a world.
“Stand,” the guard ordered her, as the four men ran back into the room with a silver fishnet.
Licking the tasty creamery off her fingers, she stood.
Instantly, she didn’t like the looks of this. She’d already blown it. She might as well give those who remained more of the show. “What is this all about?” she attempted to ask in her most diplomatic tone of voice, the one she was trained to use in confrontations with civilized beings.
She didn’t expect anyone to answer her. She was a prisoner, not a guest.
Silence.
The guard pointed his sword at her chest, which in any civilized culture was both terribly rude and extremely dangerous.
“Lower your sword,” she commanded, giving him the option first to obey or pay the consequences.
His eyes narrowed. She shook her head, not wanting to ruin his good sword that he probably paid a blacksmith half a year’s wages to forge.
“I warned you.” Quickly before he could react, she grabbed the point of the sword, holding her fingers on the flat sides. A second later, the blade dripped to the floor like melted wax.